THE LAST SHOW

[ManicMalcolm]

He remembered. Clean crisp high mountain air, snow between his bare toes, the last rays of the late summer sun that sent his long shadow into the oncoming twilight and the distant sound of barking dog.

He remembered. Snarling grunts, pig snout faces, the joy of the dance, his feet beating rhythm keeping time with the song on his lips, the music in his soul, blades in his hands, the many foul smelling brutish forms lying around him, their life's blood pooling beneath them.

He remembered. Sickening wet thuds, arrows piercing his yielding flesh, sudden rush movement behind him, ice cold red hot pain, looking down at a foot of crudely produced and oddly curved blade, made slick with blood, protruding from his chest, the world spinning, the light fading.

He remembered, a large sleek black hound, it's tongue lolling out of the side of it's jaws in almost a puppy like way, looking at him with soulful compassionate eyes

He remembered, with the hound were two others. One was a handsome young hin dressed in the green and silver of the Hawk'ns who gave salute to him.

The other? He wasn't certain. She was a lady for sure, but some times he remembered her as human, other times he remembered her as hin.
Whether human or hin he remembered her as having a beautiful smile, long flowing white hair, an impish button nose and being dressed in a blue robe with silver trim.

Then he remembered.
He remembered he was dead!