The sun slowly began to set in the west, and a gentle breeze dispersed the smoke and dust. The mountains cast giant shadows, and in the wind was the sweet, metallic scent of blood. The American eagles, attracted by the enticing aroma, occasionally swooped down, only to be startled into flight by the movements of the samurai. These New World scavengers differed from the Old World vultures; they were more impetuous, possessed sharper beaks, and especially favored the bodies of the freshly slain that had yet to decay.
Black Wolf Torc arrived at the vanguard's camp, his expression stern, saying nothing. He simply unfurled his Commander's flag and thrust it into the formation. The flag slammed "bang" into the soil, standing solidly unmoved. Then, he turned his eyes to the front, where several American eagles were circling the battlefield above the corpses of the vanguard's barbarians.