The sword swung down and embedded itself neatly into my thigh.  I did not scream for there was no pain, just the shock of the body against the cold steel, which caused the flesh to politely disect and part, revealing the way for a cute ribbon of the deepest red to unfurl and flow down my leg.  Rather than recoil, my purpose remained undimmed, I grabbed the hand that gripped the sword, so to keep the blade firmly inside me,  I wanted to embrace the sensation, to make it real, like some jilted lover who desparately clings to their adultrous other, holding them so close that they suffocate under the weight of their own infidelity.  Mad dog.  I breathed through bubbles of spit and searched the face of my enemy.  He was unremarkable except for the insanity of the moment that was caught within his eyes,  perhaps i was only seeing a reflection of myself, like you do when you stare intently enough into the eyes of another.  With my one free hand I pulled him close and sank my teeth deep into his throat, snorting as I did, his blood filled my mouth and poured forth from my nose.  Wheezing through his new hole, he lay catapleptic on the floor, waiting for the pitying pecks of the crows that circled above.  Only animals can be heroes, only animals can exist with cold hard fact.