All these Monsters

Blood trickled down over his hand as he clutched tightly to the shagreen grip.
exhaustion was starting to set in.
He had become aware of muscles he hadn't know were there through the dull ache that radiated out from them.
Some days he hated the price he paid to live.
Was any of this worth it?
What sort of being could live with only the task of taking life?
Monsters were real, and at times like this he wondered if he himself was becoming that which he hunted.
He was able to kill without feeling or connection to the task.
As easily as if he were breathing.
Without thought it just happened.
The only saving grace he was able to hold to were the nightmares.
for all the ease with which he ended a life he was able to recall each horrifying detail of the faces as he cut down the wearer.
He lived through the acts endlessly through out each night.
It was the one thing that let him know he was not yet fully a monster.
A Monster would never consider these things in the night.
Feeling the sharp ache in his arm he lifted his sword again.
Burying the metallic edge deep inside the demon before him.
The last.
Dropping down to hover tired over the form he pressed the last of his strength into the beast and felt the raking scrape of the metal in past bone and then nothing.
Quiet.
His grip faltering against the leather he let his hand fall away heavily and lay motionless near the blood soaked metallic protrusion.
Slumping down he collapsed.
Sleep came over him like a dark blanket.
Wiping away his concept of this world under an exhausted haze.

The smell of drying blood and sweat bit into his slumber and brought him around. His nose wrinkling up as if in an attempt to expel the scent.
Pulling the blade back along the pathway through tissue and past bone he instinctively wiped the blade across the lifeless form.
Working from body to body he removed anything of value.
Pulling a leather satchel off of one of the slain creatures he finished his rounds and began the long walk back.
The morning sun seemed to flare and welcome him.
The light was easy to move about in with out worrying.
Bright and overbearing he had grown accustomed to the dark so he squinted his way through most days.
His feet treading soft sand he pulled items from the satchel as he walked. Looking each one over as his distracted steps carried him closer to home.
Home.
The thought made his shoulders relax.
Sometimes the simplest thought of a thing could change your outlook.
Home was one of those things.
For the longest time "home" had just been a concept.
A vaugue idea that he wondered about.
That was before the monsters.
Monsters had a way of forcing you to look at life.
It was an unintentional side effect.
When death was your focus you tended more often than not to reflect upon life.
when you are looking at your life that closely some thing tend to become more important.
Home had been one of those things.
At first it had just meant a place to stash gear and any spoils from the nights prior but soon it took on a meaning all it's own.
Something almost unidentifiable to the outside eye.
He had felt it. One more thing that kept him from becoming the beast.