Max held her close and kissed her again. Her lips were sweet and soft. Did she know that he would lay down his life to keep her safe? Or use the secret technique that he was told never to use? His grandfather taught it to him as a way to defend himself and those he loved but it was so powerful that, if worked incorrectly, it would tear his right arm off and break his legs. He shivered at her touch as she caught herself on him. His lips found hers again as he pulled her lean body against his.
She bit him. He was so near losing control of his body as he heard something that was off to him. It was a voice he thought was the wind in the trees, but trees didn't actually sing.
"OH brother lets go down, let's go down come on down. Oh Brother lets go down. Down in the river to pray..." the voice called from the wood line. It was male. A somber bass that sounded like the truest sorrow. Max spun Avery against his chest and clapped a hand over her mouth. He drew his pistol and looked back under the wheel of the Steamer.
"As I went down to the river to pray, studying about that good old way, in His fare will... I said good lord show me the way." He sang back. Cocking the pistol, he watched as a tall figure stepped out from the trees. He was Dressed in leather armor and carried a long sword much like Max's.
"May the old gods bless you, Brother Maximus." He bowed and dropped a wooden framed rucksack on the ground, laying his sword and knife next to it. He took a step infront of them and knelt in the dust.
Max stood, releasing Avery and walking over to the man, he pressed his pistol to his head. "What is the name of the god all men pray to?" He asked with solom meaning. If this man was who he appeared to be, the answer would be coming.