The Hun God Swords - Angel of hope

Untitled Part 9

Oguz sat on the floor for another minute or two. The ten heifers around him. Pej came over, too, and now he gasped Oguz's neck.

The boy looks at his arm. It's like it's broken. Both. Sky. His wrist is burning. Have you ever heard such a thing Eskamtól when young adolescents to feign lt miss their arms and battle the horse climbs. The bone is broken. The warrior's life is over unless the good talent heals the bone . Ha tu d ja.

He looks, turns his hands. His palm is intact. Seb nowhere. And there is blood on the ground. The right forearm, its internal front is also itchy. Maybe he will recover? Young, kid yet, but he understands that feeling. Experience. He's watching. A line begins to disfigure on his white skin, on the inside of his right forearm. M ajd the line of a drawing. By himself. Just because.

A drawing of a sword . It's not like his blade slipped out of his hand at first . No. It's a more ornate than that. Huge , maybe pallos, maybe two-handed. Or not. A flame snake in color around the blade. Blue. Sky blue. His right forearm glows in place of the drawing. The sword is what you want it to look like. He doesn't believe it, but he 's still there , on his forearm . He shows his hand to Pej. The horse steps back. He smiles, squirts.

- Hey Pej !! He shouted. I am. Pej doesn't understand. He pulls back, then stops. He looks at Ogu. The boy set his left forearm. It also itches. There is also a sword, sky with a blue flame snake. That's nice too . It's so varied. Where it is, where it is. Any, but beautiful. But only the ones he has seen so far, in pictures, at fairs, on the side of ornate gentlemen , only in other colors. Where it's silvery because you imagine it cute because you want to see one. Where large ho l medium, where small. The ztán the sword in toward his palms cs ú c has the skin and back, but not on the middle of his forearm. He briefly elnyugsz offer . As you slide there, it itches. Evening too. He rubs both . Then m price does not itch, just there. The swords rest. They are beautiful. He had seen similar pictures painted on the gentlemen's skin, most notably on their backs, but he had never seen such a beautiful one. It's like it's true. And it was for him, just for him.

Then all of a sudden he remembers Aldar and the cute sword. Pejre ugrat. He starts to gallop. Wind speed. Attila heads for a camp army. You know, you feel where you need to go. He's just hissing in the wind .