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Death was all around me. I saw it in the orange leaf as it cascaded down the tree, falling to rest in the grass underneath. I noticed it in the darkening of the sky, preparing for the arrival of winter. And I felt it from the m******e of humanity on the battlefield, the corpses piled on top of each other. Names. Dreams. All crushed. Gone in the wind, carried away with their ashes.
This wasn't the kind of death I'd been told about as a child. This wasn't the noble and brave demise of heroes and warriors. This was a cold, heartless, ruthless, impersonal slaughter.
The fallen didn't get to look their challenger in the eye. They didn't get to inhale the scent of fear or sweat adrenaline. They never even saw the faces of their victor. No, of their killer.
This wasn't a victory. It wasn't
