Signs of Reinforcements

The sun rose slowly, its light piercing the thin mist and bleaching the valley white. Traces of the night battle looked even more gruesome in the morning light: broken stakes lay in the mud, pits eaten by acid gave off faint white smoke, and bodies were scattered everywhere. The air still reeked of blood and acrid fumes. Even the wind could not clear it; it only spread the mingled stench of blood and acid farther.

Ryan leaned against the rock wall, his twin blades planted in the mud to support him. A night of fighting had left his arms almost numb. His fingertips had lost feeling, the skin between his thumbs and forefingers had split, and dried blood had glued his hands to the hilts. The wound at his shoulder looked horrifying in the sunlight, charred flesh mingling with blood, far beyond what his torn sleeve could hide. Every breath felt as if it tore through his chest, and the taste of rust lingered in his throat.

He slowly surveyed the battlefield, his gaze passing over the massive corpses of the Squad Leader and Squadron Leader. Their remains still blocked the gap, their huge bodies like fallen barricades. Their shells had dried, and the splits at their necks and along their bellies were a sickening black. Broken spines from their backs stuck out of the mud in neat rows like short spears. Sunlight glared off the corpses, making the ruins seem even more desolate.

The mud beneath his feet had hardened under a layer of black crust. It cracked when stepped on. Many Soldier Ant remains had hardened too, their shells so brittle that the slightest touch broke them into pieces. When the wind blew, severed limbs rolled across the ground with a rustling sound that grated in the silence.