Dusty; a brave friend.

Through the eye of a spectator, it was a bloody field at sight, ripples of chaos at an open stipulating valley. Lots of injured men and women were down, with a groan from an unjust attrition and forced invasion. A number of few who were caught in the cross fire died. Others with a greater angle were lucky to be alive, running from the ordeal. Hopefully fleeing for their lives.

Still the occurrence led to possible death of many, and full corpse in a dried earthy marsh. It was a close distant cry of violence and unfinished war burning the ground crimson with a looming fear of treachery hanging over the head of each individual in the field.