The snow fell as a wall of white death and the frost flowers on the side of the BTR had long covered the color. It was not blue, not thisone. The cold! In our eyes was the only fire, the only sparkle of warmth. Long was it since I last felt my feet, finger on the trigger was blue (Blue. As the flame on the blade I no longer had. As the BTR. As my dreams. Blue.)
And the snow fell. I was the last. The last of my kind. The others... Their bodies rest in oblivion and their souls sleep within me. I held the line ’til the end. I can hear Him, His steps in the snow. Darkness evades my will. Jack the Ripper met her match. The snow falls, covering the world that no longer is.
And over everything – the Eyes of the Soldier.
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