Death - Avoids gunfire

Hanging in the angel's two-handed grip, a massive cannon of bronze tubing and iron slabs fired burst after burst. Fragments of blessed metal embedded themselves in the earth, punched holes entirely through the thickest trunks, and the forest itself trembled with the sound of thunder.
And none of it touched the Horseman.
He was simply never there when the projectiles soared past, never in the radius when they ignited. He moved with a grace the lithest angel couldn't have matched, guided by an insight that bordered on the precognitive. He swayed from, rolled under, or tumbled over everything that came near, seemed almost to walk up the side of trees or even change direction mid-leap.
The rage that marred the angel's face twisted his features further still. His body shook with such anger that it began to affect the cannon's aim, and the weapon spat as swiftly as he could physically pull the trigger. Still he missed, every time. And he'd have been infinitely more frustrated had he known that his unyielding barrage didn't even warrant Death's full attention.

***

Chapter 3