Mythic scene, morning after

The gray dawn raises over the battlefield, strewn with the dead as far as the eye can see. Roving bands are systematically stripping the bodies, gathering the arms and amour, beheading the wounded. Marduk’s agents are already making plans to loot the storehouses and carry off the children. We, the stragglers, do not know why we survived! With our nicked swords, destrung bows, and remaining arrows, we gather our cloaks around us and flee to the wilderness. We will bind our wounds, regroup, and contemplate the terrible mistakes that led to the catastrophe!

But there’s danger! Marduk’s constables are searching door to door. We are on the run, sleeping somewhere different every night. But those of us committed to liberty, we can do no other. We will consider ourselves already dead and fight on.