Is this a good excerpt from a story im writing?

I rubbed my throbbing head and winced in pain. I could tell it was bruised. As I wiped the hot tears from my cheeks, my hands collected the mud and grime that had accumulated on my face. The frigid winds had stirred up an unrelenting rain. My t-shirt clung to my body, outlining the handle of the Angel blade, tucked safe away in my pockets. The wind picked up now singing a song of a hellish promise. But I felt it now was working more for me than against me, the chilled wind and rain offered a numbness to my body, allowing me to keep running. And that's all I could do, for now at least till I could formulate a plan. I had to make it back to the shelter, to see my family, or any familiar face that survived the raid. Thoughts of my mom and sisters raced throughout my mind, yet I knew if they were alive, there condition couldn't be any better than mine. I staggered to lift my legs with each step,my boots had now collected enough rain, to slow my pace.