Could be:
Raising my slender sword above me, I bring it down, plunging it deeply into the writhing body of the last Zamorakian warrior left. I withdraw it quickly from the corpse and wipe (the) blood off (the blade) on a cleaning cloth, returning it to pearly white again, and sheath it.
I walk slowly through the bog around me, cautious of any lurking beasts. A howl sounds in the distance. Werewolves (no doubt). They will smell the blood soon, best not to stick around. I pick up my pace, wanting nothing more than anything to get out of the bog, but I can’t. I’m the only one left in my squadron, all the others were killed in the surprise attack.
Larissa. We will never be together now. My knees give out under me, and I fall to the ground in tears. It is then that I see, even with my vision (is) blurred by tears, the burgundy mess.
It says the same thing, has the same meaning, but it is easier to read this way.
Also, sense we are on paragraphs, whenever one person stops talking and another begins it is a new paragraph. That way a book doesn't have to have a million 'I said' and 'she said'.
(She smiles at me and says “You really shouldn’t be wandering these bogs alone. They can be quite...dangerous.” She seems to find something satisfying about that. “Are you alright?” she asks, genuinely concerned. “Yes, I’m...fine.” I reply, still in awe. “Good,” she states matter-of-factly, “Then I won’t have to carry you back to camp.” She approaches me, still assessing any damage the werewolves might have caused. She circles around me and comes to a stop quite suddenly)
This should be
She smiles at me “You really shouldn’t be wandering these bogs alone. They can be quite...dangerous.” She seems to find something satisfying about that. “Are you alright?” she asks, genuinely concerned.
“Yes, I’m...fine.” I reply, still in awe.
20-Apr-2010 16:59:09
- Last edited on
20-Apr-2010 17:00:02
by
Esperanza