Dominion

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All yesterday’s dead men, and the dead horses too, were slowly becoming visible in the predawn light that came staining slowly across the field. Instead of blackness, the sky was the color of nothingness now. The leader realized that he hadn’t slept at all, hadn’t even taken off his armor. No matter; his next sleep was likely to be long enough.

Out of the mist on his right a figure materialized, and he turned to face it, donning out of habit a leader’s confident smile.

“When’ll we fight again, sir?” the man asked after a silent pause. A useless question, of course. But something to say.

“As soon as the sun’s well up.” A useless, unnecessary answer, too, though in his practiced leader’s voice it sounded like some decision that he’d just confidently taken.

“There’s a many of ‘em, sir.” Through the opaque grayness that still hid the enemy camp, some hint of their numbers could now be heard in morning stirrings.

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