The Golden Oath
The mud sucks at your boots with a wet, tearing sound as you run, the air tasting of sulfur and burnt hair, and you are not thinking about the oath you swore to protect the people of this valley, you are thinking only about the weight of the rifle in your hands, which feels heavier than it did an hour ago, and the sound of the whistle of the incoming artillery, which is not a sound but a...
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