The Last Breath
The Ancient Seraph views the carnage around him. Bodies of burnt, broken, and mishapen enemy jaguars litter the battlefield, some of them struck down in the midst of shapeshifting. Fallen eagle warriors with their false wings attest to the enemies' aspirations of flight.
News came to him of similar successes from other raiding parties, but also of heart wrenching defeats. Of the seven carefully planned raids, four have succeeded and three have failed, a far too costly undertaking considering that surprise was on their side this time.
He had given a good accounting of himself this day. But he is old, his body wracked with disease, his eyes dulled by cataracts, his tired spent wings could no longer lift him up into the sky. He had flung his last thunder this day. He lies back down to experience the breathtaking sunset one last glorious time. Tomorrow, the battle will go on without him.
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