Blood on a barren field. Lifeless gray birches border the parched, dusty ground. A curious twilight before the coming dark. I press my hand against my open wounds. It’s drenched in red.
Cawing of crows. A murder lands to feast on the legion of corpses. One pecks out the lifeless eye of a body closest to me. My sword hand still clasps the hilt. The shattered blade catches the dying day’s last light.
Victory? Defeat? Neither matter. Only the next breath … and the next…
Until none remain.
More crow caws
My last drop of blood
Clotting in dust
Photograph by Eric Müller