Myth becomes Legend {DP}

MYTH, The Wanderer

Myth panted and gasped for breath as he shakily got to his feet, staring wild-eyed at the shaggy corpse in front of him. Here he finally had a story about himself worth telling, and it ended with his death. He had no illusions about his survival; he’d been around the block enough to know what a fatal wound looked like. 

Myth grunted and collapsed against a tree trunk, his legs giving out from under him. It had been a rookie mistake really, he should have left the area when he saw the deer carcass, but he just had to keep chasing that rabbit, didn’t he?

A pained groan escaped his lips as he tried to halt the bleeding in his leg with his good hand. His knife was sunk deep into the bear’s skull, but not before it had severed an artery, and goddammit, with his right hand all mangled he couldn’t tie anything around the wound. After a few seconds struggle he gave up reached for the satchel hanging at his side.

It was a miracle that the bottle of whiskey hadn’t been broken in the fight, but he was glad for it. It took a moment to pull the cork out with his teeth and spit it away, but once done he took an eager swig.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d known something like this would happen one day. There’d be a peacekeeper patrol he couldn’t evade, or a snake in the grass he didn’t see. He just hadn’t expected it to be today.

No one ever did. Death found you no matter where you were. You couldn't outrun it forever. It seemed like things were getting dark, but it was too early in the day for the sun to be setting. “Caspian…Windy…. I’m sorry I wasn’t there... “ He murmured hazily.  He was going now, he could feel the light fading from his eyes. 

What would travelers think in the days to come, when they found the site of his final battle? What stories would they tell of the man and the bear?  Whatever happened in the future, he hoped it would be a good one.  As he'd often told other wanderers around the campfires, 

They were all stories, in the end.  

FIN