I stood there eyes closed, sword in hand. My black hand had turn red, blood driping down my sword onto something, or rather into someone.
I have always wished to be as brave as the spartans, but my way does not permit that. I fight to live, not to die.
Everywhere i turn to i see bodies, bodies of men who thought the greatest act of all is dying for their country, their people, their family and themselves. But what good is the greatest act? When am lying under the enimies spear.
I walk around the bodies, careful not to step on anyone as a sign of respect. I grab our flag and face the rising sun, asking myself where my last stand will be. But for now my destination is my obligation.