They had lost. At the beginning of the war there had been hope, they all knew that the chance that they would emerge victorious had been low, but it had still been there and it had given them hope.
Now though, sitting slumped in a cave with the smell of death surrounding them the formerly confident warrior saw that there was no hope any more, not for them and not for the Light.
Bangs and crazed laughter echoed quietly through the cave.
They went ignored.
So many people had lost their lives in this war, and for what? The Light had lost, it had truthfully lost back at the Battle of Hogwarts when most of its fighters had been killed by the Dark Lords Death Eaters. That had been eleven months ago and they were lucky to have survived past that crippling point. The only tactics that could be used with the low numbers they were down to were Guerilla ambushes against the small groups of Death Eaters and snatchers that roamed England in search of them. It had been no use, the vastly superior numbers the enemy possessed learned how to counteract their plans and the ambushers turned in to the ambushed. Today had been one of the last, if not the last of the attacks planned by desperate people who had been backed in to a both metaphorical and literal corner. Now with only one fighter left it had certainly been the last.
The tired warrior looked around at the four bodies scattered about the cave, still laying where they fell. The first to fall was laying on her back, wide, silvery grey eyes staring in to space much like they had when they were alive. The second was slumped against the wall much the same way as the y were, except his entire chest was covered in dried blood, a dark-skinned hand pressed against the wound in a futile last attempt to stay alive when healing spells had come too late. The last two were laying together, almost identical corpses only told apart by their unique wounds, lay near the back of the cave, somehow retaining smiles even in death.
The lone survivor contemplated closing their eyes but thought better of it, the crazed laughter still echoing through the cave was getting louder, there was no escape for them and the Death Eaters knew it. The warrior laughed without a trace of humour. A sick game had been created, they knew the last enemy was going to fall, the last of the resistance was going to crumble. They knew this was true and they had decided to regroup, to let their enemy sit with their thoughts, surrounded by the corpses of those they had called friends.
The crazed laughter had stopped now, but the light of Lumos spell could be seen at the bend of the cave only twenty feet away. The soon to be dead warrior slowly stood up from their slumped position and pulled their wand from the holster on their left arm, determined to avenge as many of their fallen friends as they could before they themselves lay on the floor of the cave with them.