The sound of wailing drifted in the wind from afar, mingling cries and roars with crazed laughter and cheers.
Under the scorching sun, dust danced and swirled; within the frontline base, on the widened main street, people came and went, reminiscent of a bustling market.
It was even more exaggerated than a marketplace.
However, the faces on the street were clearly polarized—either looking somber as if they'd lost a horse, or ecstatic as if they'd just killed someone else's horse...
Going home empty-handed, escaping with one's life, or returning triumphantly with rich spoils.
Sometimes, the differences were just this drastic.
Some lay on stretchers, gasping and still able to laugh.
Because those unfortunate souls who couldn't make it back alive had long since perished in the wilderness...
