Eli lay beneath the cooling corpse of the demi-human, his breath coming in ragged gasps, muscles trembling with the aftermath of combat.
Above him, the war raged on.
The ambush had been a brutal. For a moment, it had looked like they might be overrun. But moments were fleeting things, and now, now the tide had turned.
The distant rumble of engines announced it.
More trucks. More men.
The Guardsmen had come in force.
Eli shoved the dead weight off his chest, rolling to his side, sucking in the cold, acrid air. His fingers found his rifle where it had fallen in the dirt, and he pushed himself upright, boots digging into the torn-up ground. Rolf was nearby, his face streaked with grime, panting hard as he reloaded his Lee-Enfield No. 4 Mk I, hands moving fast and practiced.
"About fucking time," Rolf muttered, snapping the bolt forward.
