Alan Hopkins

December 8th, 2008

Alan Hopkins saw him stumble as well.  Two broke formation, turned, and lashed their horses toward the wounded Celt.  Bronix jerked to his feet, the arrow still protruding from his shoulder.  He slid his shield to the ground, resting it between his leg and the rock.  Reaching across his tunic he grasped the arrow, grimaced, and ripped it from his body.    The Caledonians began to breathe again.  Some were smiling, some laughing in admiration.  Bronix was indestructible.  Nobody would ever kill him.    The two archers were again releasing arrows.  Bronix hit the ground as the missiles tore through the spot where he had been standing.

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