185

Henrick pov

...

My head hurts. It hurts so much.

I turn to the fakes. "Yes, take care." They let of a grim smile. It's so realistic. So, so very realistic. I want to believe them. But that bunched letter holds so much weight.

"We've found... it looks like a stockpile of food. I'll show you."

They aren't even trying at this point. Sure, they have both the mannerisms and gait of my soldiers. But I know them, I know their ticks, their fears, even just the little things they do while walking.

And they are not them.

I've bled with them. I've yelled and screamed out my frustrations with them. And I watched them die. I watched their hollow corpses bleed out onto the ground. And I watched them die.

I watched them.

And now you stand there, creating an illusion of my best friends. My people.