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Okay, limbs, fine, hands, feet, attached, might have a concussion, judging by the blood on my head, but that may not be mine. Other than dull pain everywhere, I should be in good shape.

The mud clung heavily to my form, as I stared up at the clouds, my mind pondering how I could get out of this mess. From my position, I could be relatively close to either line, allied or not. My crew is not among the dead, so I hope they made it back, yet it begs the question.

How do I get back? I think, fighting back the clawing in my throat.

Taking stock, I shifted up from my crater and peeked around the lip. As the midday sun reached its zenith, the clinging stench of the corpse strewn field grew with a steady crescendo. Bodies blown apart from the force and shrapnel of the enemies shells, limbs and torsos indistinguishable to each other. Nearby, the body of a young wolf lay, right arm torn clean from his socket, guts hanging limping from a deep gash amidst the remnants of his grey uniform, the cold stare of death upon his face. I knew not the name of the trooper, but the youthful energy that face must have once held left the world, and the visage left imprinted my memories. Under his corpse, a rifle, undamaged by mere chance.

Well, there’s one option for protection, aside my 9mm Luger, however , patience is key. I do not know if the enemy is watching the sector.

On further observation, I note the barren aspect, the ground lacking foliage from the destructive salvo for me to use, the field unrecognisable from its previous beauty. Even with the shell holes, the missing grass and shrubs will make me easier to see. Waiting till night seems the best bet for survival, the dark giving some concealment.

There is one last alternative, but the risk still presides. If I do, the chances of losing myself for a bit are too high. However, I would blend in the dark better…

With nothing better to do, I simmered in my hole, the smell reaching an apex of decay, remaining steady as the sun began its slow descent.

I doubt the enemy has pushed our line back, but it would be an opportune time-

As if on queue and to spite me, the staccato rhythm of cannon fire sounds, more shells landing nearby, spreading more gore in the blood stained ground. I slip myself deep as I can into my shelter for the next few hours, praying a shell did not land on me.

A Deterrent, or preamble, for another attack no doubt. Maybe command is sending another wave? No, more likely the enemy ensures they don’t.\, or perhaps a counter-attack?

Even with this in mind, I am trapped, no matter what occurs. The symphony of destruction pounded ceaselessly for what I thought was hours, until finally, it ended. I braced for the marching of boots, yet none seemed to sound in the waning hours. I crawled out the debris to see the body disappeared, the rifle along with it. No other seems to be near, eliminating one option.

Great, it seems i’m running low on options for defense. If I am spotted, if any are even near, the problems will only escalate. Pistol’s only good if I can close the distance, but the noise will also attract more attention, The final option still stands, and it is more tempting with each passing moment. Why won’t the sun set any faster?

Nearing dusk, I note the final collusion of fate, as the positions fired upon during the assault, mere 200 meters away being the closest, stirred with activity. The dark brown uniforms of Syndicate forces crawled out of sturdy bunkers, though a few stayed dormant, much to my relief, as it signified the assault managed something, if not anything major. Once more I check my equipment, and review my options. Pistol, two spare magazines, and the boot knife I overlooked, a whole lot of good that will do me. Twirling the blade for a second, I peer once more over the lip, and make the final preparations. The sun finally sinks under the horizon, engulfing the world in inky blackness.

Now or never.

I slink out of the hole, listening and watching for enemy movement, trying my best to remain unnoticed. Every step I took, even carefully placed, I hoped I didn't hear a shout of warning or see a flare light up the night. It was unfortunate, or fortunate, that the new moon was out, forcing me to slowly pace to avoid stumbling into corpses or water filled holes. Those unfortunate grisly remains clung to my soles, causing a constant squelch with every stride, a few spotlights are seen, surveying the landscape for survivors.

Let's see, we were heading Southwest from the starting point, so North East should lead me back to our lines, if the enemy hasn't laid ambushes along our trail. If memory serves, we were nearly on top of the enemies lines, assuming the intel was correct, meaning I would have to cross 1.9 kilometres to get to the launch zone.

My pace quickened slightly, once I figured I was far enough away to warrant so, as well as getting my bearings. Keeping low, and utilizing the craters and burnt out husks, I move through the anguished fields, occasionally stepping onto the less torn bodies, their states, cold and dead, following me, same as the wolf before. Dozens, if not hundreds, I passed in what felt an eternity of darkness, eyes adjusting barely, allowing me to see the collective visceral soup together in the mud. I was enraptured with those fallen that I almost didn't notice the light pass overhead, forcing me to duck fully behind one of the hulls.

Shit. Did they see me?

"Go figure, everyone here seems dead," a raspy voice, hushed and low, gasped.

"I knew this may be a waste," came the reply, plain and toneless, "we still have more to search, however, orders are orders. Besides, if our Intel is correct, they are just as confused as us."

"Let'sss find the officers, if any survived," came a third, " thisss place unsettles me."

"Nervous, are you, my scalie underling?" the toneless one replied.

"You're one to talk, with how your mane isss standing on end. It's just this place has me hissing in distaste."

"Look, boss, let's just finish looking around here an hour more, and call it quits, sound reasonable?" Rasped the first.

Sounds of acknowledgement followed, and their footsteps, loud now to me, continued onward. Occasionally, the group would seemingly stop, to check the bodies, as evidenced. A few minutes pass, and they found someone, judging by the groan from nearby.

"Looks like one did survive, but barely," remarked the toneless one, "Eal, get your kit."

I gazed around the husk when the rattling of a pack resounded, finally seeing the trio who nearly spotted me. A lion, the leader regarding earlier comments, stood facing a scaled soldier, holding what was obviously a med-kit. The last of their group faced away, out toward the fields, luckily for me in the opposite direction.

They don't know I am here. If I strike fast and hard, I could capture all three without a shot. However, the soldier they found could be used as a hostage by them.

With practiced ease, the scaled one, Eal, assessed the wounded man's condition. "He'll need proper treatment soon, he seems to have lost quite a bit, and the chance of infection already present is high."

"Just patch him up, but do try and keep him unconscious," the lion ordered, "while you two may have to carry him, he's less likely to escape."

"I'll set up a stretcher, then," the human said dejectedly, trying to hide his own unease.

The lion kept watch as the others loaded the injured onto the cot, still looking away from me. The noise they made was perfect for me to sneak behind, weapons drawn. I quickly placed my knife at the lion's jugular, and aimed at the others. The two froze, the lion growled and tried to turn, in which I pressed the blade closer to his hide, mere millimetres from puncturing.

"Don't move unless I say," I order, "now, put your guns and knives down, all of them."

The others complied, though they had a hostage of their own. The one called Eal fidgeted a lot, but otherwise didn't disappoint, but the human tried, pulling his pistol out and aimed.

Pop, pop

I fired twice, both landing in his chest, the shots rang out across the desolate landscape.

Stealth has definitely gone out the window, guns aren’t known for the silent approach.

"Any more stunts will be answered in a similar fashion, understood?"

The lion kept his growl, but listened, and Eal stayed still while I organized them. I ordered the lion to also disarm, once I pushed him out of arm's reach, and to help Eal carry the wounded man back to my lines, and grabbed the dead trooper's rifle as we moved. I took to the rear and escorted them at a quick march, keeping an ear out for other patrols.

Let's hope the enemy doesn't have an ambush waiting, speed is my only option now.

The stretcher bobbed on our trek, as mud slapped with each step, loudly sounded our approach. We made it halfway through No man’s land to the launch point, when we were spotted by another patrol. Shouts rang out nearby, the other patrol hot on our heels. The lion dropped the litter, and tried to tackle me. I side stepped in time, and delivered a blow to his head with the rifle stock. Eal ducked into one of the holes with the injured trooper, and I dragged the now unconscious lion into another alongside it as the scouts took position within 50 meters.

Pinned down, nearly halfway to the point, all I could do was hope for an allied patrol to show.

Well, it isn't my only hope. I could leave the trooper to his fate… no… patience. Let's not leave a man to them, not to mention the valuable intel the tiger and scalie may have. Fuck, I may have to use it…