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The Assassin The air of the country had an uncertain chill. The hills around him were blocking out the now beaten sun
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The Assassin The air of the country had an uncertain chill. The hills around him were blocking out the now beaten sun as it fell like a wounded solider. Bloodied and battered. The sound was peaceful yet a screeching pain echoed over. The wind seemed to blow at random opportunities making the trees stand to attention and stand tall against the onrushing blow. He looked over to where the target would disembark and he knew how to do the rest. The location was decrepit and primitive, yet it was a veteran to the hills. The quaint farm, which had bygone many owners, stood as if expecting something. It lay like a dormant volcano. The target was to come and do the usual meet and greet and welcome the new owners to the parish. The evening was setting in and the target was late, yet he remained cool, calm and collected. His...
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