One, two, three, hundreds of arrows fall around me, my companions fall. Arrows pierce mercilessly, there is no armor, we are soldiers.
The dry leaves of the forest are stained with blood. Pain, crying, anger, strength. The terror does not stop, arrows and arrows continue to fall, their sharp points sound breaking everything, breaking us.
The enemy is heard closer and closer.
—Hold on, brother, hold on.
I take refuge behind a tree. Angry screams.
—I´m going to leave.
—We´re going —Anastasio says.
—We´re leaving, friend.
—Run! —Anastasio yells.