Left Alive
He awoke to sounds of men screaming all around him. "Am I dead...is this...hell?" He tried to stand, but felt pinned to the ground. Staring down at his feet he noticed the spear that was driven straight through his gut and deep into the ground. Last he remembered was that he had been knocked from his horse, right onto his back. "KILL ME, PLEASE!" he heard from his compatriots and enemies alike who were writhing in pain to wounds that had not yet claimed their lives. He knew by the warm flow from his mid section that if he were not to act soon, would be among the dead. He tried to move, but every stretch he could feel his wound tear more and more. He grasped the spear in one hand breathed deep and then with his other. He tried to break the weapon, but could not get any leverage. He needed something to break his imprisonment. When he laid his head back on the ground and turned to the left, he saw his friend...well, half of him anyways. His axe was in arm