Battle of the Anvil, part 2

I slipped in the mud as we raced along the trench. Not bloodmud, which is a thing, but the normal light brown to tan mud. Slick, slippery, dirty mud.

Hey, not my fault. The rules of the punitive squad clearly said I had to be in front of Fara (in her line of sight, but her eyes faced forward) shielding her from danger.

I'd picked up a wooden targe (small shield) from one of the fallen, and I raced forward. Not out of noble suicide or glory seeking, but rather to keep Fara from trampling me. Like an angel of death, she and two others swept clockwise (by Furdian clock faces, anyway) through the trenches.

There were varying beats of arrow, axe, and spear, and the children catching up long enough to take one down with their knives.