Emerald Wings
The men who had marched into the valley with the morning mist there were a thousand of them. By midday the thousand men were now only five hundred. Some of the thousand men were lying on the ground they were. Hurt, among the jagged rocks. The thousand men who were screaming their screams were drowned out by the noise of the battle. The thousand men who were scattered they were. Bleeding and they were lost in the wilderness.
