The morning air was crisp, the rising sun turned the land
a cold gray. Two lines of men stared at each other, one behind fresh earthworks
and the other atop a mossy stone wall, a muddy field between them. The sounds
of cicadas filled the air. The battle lines were quiet, the only human sounds
were prayer, crying, and vomiting. A man appeared behind the line of bodies
manning the earthworks. He began slowly banging his sword on his shield. The cadence
quickly moved down the whole line, overwhelming the noise of the cicadas and
the sounds of human fear.
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