'You Cannot Kill That Horse'

It seemed only a matter of moments before the holes and cracks in the decrepit road caused the grey horse to stumble, but it possessed a singular knack for avoiding any impedance. All shouting had stopped, and there were only wordless spectators, myself included. Varsano pointed, and I saw that the horse's left flank was afflicted with a jutting arrow, a full twenty centimetres of wood emerging from a wound of the recent past. Mephra tried again, shooting virtually one handed. The second bullet vanished into the air, punctuating his rare failure. He sat down heavily on the street, mentally adrift, dangerously emaciated, barely a soldier anymore. You