A barren land, its life stolen. Only crows remain, mourning the lost. But this land cannot rest yet. A continuous, thunderous sound shakes the ground. A thousand footsteps draw a line on the blank sheet. A thousand men marching towards the horizon, towards the enemy. Some think of themselves as heroes about to save their motherland, others are fearful and long for home. Together they form a single being, like a line of ants. Individual desire is insignificant. Unable to speak out, they continue walking, the will shaking with every step. Good soldiers follow orders, even if they must walk into hell.

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