Jimma was the first to slouch down from his horse. He drew out his dagger and stepped forward, walking across the dune of flesh and bones. If this were to be a story, he wouldn't believe them or if it were a nightmare, he might have remained awake.
Smoke rose in all directions like a fluffy cloud, pivoting listlessly with the whiff that steered towards the dusty field. Weapons were lying fallow or slobbering with blood and sand. Bones have been crushed, muscles, tendons, and ligaments shredded from their place. Flesh lay with spluttered blood, inviting vultures to a feast of meat. Most soldiers had their eyes open, some had lost theirs, but most were still looking lifelessly at the distance. Some others had their lips missing, while to some it was their hands or legs or head entirely.
Ji
