A small log cabin sat alone on top of the muddy hillside in the darkness. A number of horses stood in a row, sinking into the ground. Cold summer rain fell heavily on its leaky roof, dripping in from the fast number of holes in the ceiling. The doors and windows, shattered and broken further exposing it to the elements. Inside wood pieces of once luxuries furniture, lined the floorboards. A musty stench overwhelmed the room, slightly decreased by the falling rain. In one corner a large huddled mass of people sat, covered in tattered blue coats.
A young dark haired man hurried in through the non-existing door, a carbine hung by a strap from his left shoulder. He was new, by the looks of his uniform. It was unstained, plus the man was too eager.
"General Alfred F. Jones!" He cried.
A man looked up from the crowed, his face covered in bruising and cuts. He was pale, dark circles resting under his deep blue eyes. Drops of water hit his face, dried blood and dirt mixing into a greenish colored ooze. His blond hair was matted down, long and untamed. He lifted himself up from the floor, slowly. The dark haired man was amazed at the blue eyed man's size. He was much taller than himself, nervously he saluted.
"Yes?" He asked calmly, his voice deep and serious.
"Sir, your group of men is to head east, supposedly Alan J. Archer's forces are camping close by." The man said. Alfred sighed and waited a minute before replying. The name making his heart ache, he grabbed his chest. It still hurt.
"Understood." He said, he dismissed the young man, who turned and left out of the cabin. Climbing back up on his horse, he galloped away to continue his orders. " Men, you heard the man! We move now!" Alfred commanded, still clinching the spot, the huddled men began to rise. They were just as tired as himself. He moved outside, the rain poured onto his uncovered head. This war was a manslaughter, brother against brother. Heart still prickling, he climbed atop his stallion. Alfred looked to the sky, letting the rain wash his face. 'Alan, why can't you see times have change.' He thought, leading the way through the mud slicked land.
