Happy new year..... I guess.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, happy new year.

Really, I've never seen any damn point to this "Holiday," but hey I've always gotten a day off for it, so I guess that overrides my opinion of it.

But, really, celebrating a new year...... Okay?

Look, chance are it's just going to be like last year, just as bad, just as good. Oh, and that "New years resolution" you made? Chances are you're going to forget about it about two months in, and fail at it (unless you resolved to get to the next year, then power to you).

Okay, I'm being a jerk here. Holidays are holidays. Ones like these only come around once a year, and with the world being in the shitter it is today, it's never hurt to just sit back and enjoy them. So, you know what? Happy holidays. Just sit back with the people you love and relax. Really, enjoy this time, everyone needs a break now and then, and this is our break.

And in celebration, here's another excerpt from my book, which I have decided to call The Siege of Midgar.

Enjoy.
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It took Ulrick moments to break free from the paralyzing grip of shock. Before he realized it, Ulrick rushed to Njal’s torso and fell to his knees by him. He looked even worse from close up. Ulrick could see the various cuts and bruises from fighting Jorin. The three puncture wounds from where Jorin had punched his claws through Njal’s breast plate were gushing blood. A mixture of blood and bile poured from Njal’s mouth. Coughing and spluttering, Njal was clinging desperately to life. But all in vain. Ulrick knew that Njal was gone.

Slowly Njal’s eyes moved to Ulrick, and slowly he smiled.

“Ulrick….” Njal spluttered through a mouthful of blood.

“Njal,” Ulrick replied softly. “Why? Why did you peruse him? Why didn’t you stay with the rest of us? You could have left it to the more experienced soldiers”

“I thought I could….” Njal coughed. “Stop him….. Handle him….”

He was going fast.

“I’m going to….. to…. make it?” Njal asked, whispering now. “Aren’t I?”

Njal let go of his shield and lifted his right hand up to Ulrick.

Ulrick looked at the feeble gesture, and finally reached over and grasped Njal’s hand holding it up in front of them.

“Yes,” Ulrick answered softly. “It’s going to be alright.”

“I knew it,” Njal whispered. “I knew you’d save me…. I knew it….”

His grip slackened. His eyes glazed, and finally died.

Ulrick lowered the boy’s hand down, slowly. Ulrick looked at his face for a moment, and finally placed his hand over the face and closed his eyes.

The dead should not sleep with eyes open, Ulrick recalled someone long ago saying to him.

Anger flared through Ulrick like a Firestorm. It surged through his body, giving his limbs power like white hot lightening. He reached down and grasped up Njal’s sword, as well as drawing his own blade.

Ulrick Rose to his full height, power flowing through his limbs. Slowly he turned to face Jorin.

For the most part Jorin had not moved. He had just stood there, watching the exchange. Now, like a dog after a wash, he shook Njal’s blood from his head. He took in Ulrick, staring him down. Ulrick met Jorin’s gaze with his own, even with Ulrick’s hood, his gaze was too strong for Jorin, who looked away, briefly.

Jorin let loose a bestial howl and dropped to a fighting stance, standing low over the ground, claws held in front of him. Teeth, sharpened to fang, bared at Ulrick.

Ulrick, in turn, spread his legs, back leg bent, and front held slightly. In front of him he held his own blade, slightly out-stretched, while Njal’s blade was held in guard at his side. Slowly, Jorin and Ulrick began to circle each other like wolves, waiting for the other to make a move.

Slowly, a white dot appeared falling between Ulrick and Jorin. It had begun to snow, softly. Jorin and Ulrick watched the flack float slowly to the ground. Finally, quietly, the flack landed in the middle a one patch of blood, making almost a target, a white island in the midst of an ocean of blood.