a tsunami of total war but for the Declaration. The globe had been sworded into hemisphere and quarters. The injuries were mounting just trying to get answers.
"I'm not going to eat you," a bloodied guardsman assured.
"And I'm not going to persecute you," a leg-paralyzed Mongolian semi-grinned, then yellowing bloody teeth snarled into, "They ARE."
The forest itself that we'd come to find ourselves in was, a pyramid shape of destruction. One set of hooved animal prints in the snow. Many sets of footprints. And blood trails. Slender alpine trees hacked and shredded. Tank tracks. Chain marks. Pools of blood. Drag marks. Thongs and underwear slung onto branches. Smoldering bonfires. Broken metal bits.
Camera lenses crushed in the crunch of fresh snow pack brought to disguise the melèe.
There'd been no sleep as scouts moved through the mountains retrieving the pieces of the financial puzzle. One-for-one on equipment and men with "cash flow" had forced gunpoint budget re-writes.
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