Half a month had passed since Lena took on the role of the "Spearhead" curator.
On that day, there were no sorties or casualties, and the girl casually adjusted her para-raid to conduct another evening communication session. She always conversed with the processors from her room right after dinner.
In the past half-month, the Spearhead processors had undertaken more sorties than any other squadron, yet managed to avoid casualties. One couldn't expect anything less from an elite unit of veterans.
"To all squadron mbers. Excellent work today."
A background noise akin to the distant murmur of a crowd echoed through the para-raid. It probably emanated from the hangar, or perhaps it was the echoes of nocturnal battles elsewhere — either way, as soon as the processors spoke up, the noise disappeared.
"Thank you too, Curator One."
As always, the first to respond was Undertaker. His voice was eerily calm and quiet — one wouldn't guess he was known as the "God of Death."
Presence of several other processors could be felt on the other end, so greeting Lena after Undertaker.
Wolf. The deputy commander, foul-mouthed but a big brother figure to the other processors.
Sakura. Childishly naive, yet the most empathetic, reliable, and honest.
Black Dog. The jester and instigator.
Snow Witch. Soft-spoken and polite.
Laughing Fox. Kind, with a voice akin to a young girl's and a sharp tongue.
Undertaker, as Lena had noticed from the start, was reserved and hardly engaged in small talk. Yet, the processors who contacted her every evening seed to be close to him in so way. Besides them, there were several soldiers nearby, indicating the commander was likely universally respected.
"Undertaker, I'd like to address your recent inquiry about the next supply replenishnt first..."
Raiden passed the ti with crossword puzzles from a magazine found in the ruins, listening to the curator and Shin's work discussions.
He sat in the commander's room, inside the barracks, covered in blackened paint. Several others gathered around, each occupied with their own tasks. Seo was lost in sketches, Hart, Kaye, and Krena were playing cards, Anju was leisurely knitting lace, and Daiya was determinedly trying to fix the radio. The ss hall and adjacent rooms were bustling too, echoing with sounds of rrint.
Shin occupied the largest room in the barracks, serving both as his personal space and office for paperwork like reports. Raiden ca here to discuss squadron matters with the commander, and other kids often dropped by, turning this room into one of the common eting spots.
The room's occupant was concerned only with having a place to read, appearing indifferent to everything happening around. If he paid any attention to the cat, it was as if he didn't notice the others at all, even if a quarrel erupted after a ga of chess, or if soone danced the belly dance right in front of him (Kujo and Daiya had actually tried this). Right now, he assud his usual position in the corner on the tal bed, with a pillow under his back, quietly reading an old novel borrowed from an unknown library, exchanging phrases with the curator. The black-and-white socked kitten was also in its evening position — snugly stretched out on Shin's chest.
"How peaceful it is here," thought Raiden as he took a sip of coffee from the mug. It was the usual coffee substitute for everyone in the Spearhead, made from dandelions growing in the backyard, and yet it was much better than that suspicious liquid from the black powder with an incomprehensible taste synthesized at the factory.
"...I wonder if my old lady would like this coffee?"
She always disregarded rules, principles, or wealth, and only coffee was her passion.
They tried to reproduce her favorite kind in the 85th district, but it tasted little different from synthetic coffee in concentration camps or military bases.
I wonder, does she still choke on this tasteless synthetic crap every morning and call it dirty water?
And does she still cry over us?
The kitten let out a plaintive ow, as if trying to drown out the curator's bell-like voice.
Lena paused mid-sentence and blinked.
"Is that... a cat?"
"Yes, he lives in the barracks," replied Black Dog.
"By the way, I picked him up. Right after I got here. He got thrown and landed right at my feet, still squealing. There was only one pancake left from his mom with brothers, and he managed to survive."
"Yeah, but for so reason, he's attached to Undertaker the most."
"And that's even though he never plays with him and just brushes him off with a pat when he starts to cuddle."
"Maybe he hasn't attached himself, he just thinks Undertaker is the most convenient to sleep on. Just like now, look at them."
"Yeah, all because Undertaker doesn't move when he reads. Well, then he'll never get used to Black Dog, too much noise from him."
"How rude... and unfair! I want it too! Sob-sob!"
The processors started fooling around, and Lena couldn't help but laugh. Right now, they looked like ordinary boys and girls, her peers. She couldn't believe she was sowhere else.
"And what's his na?" she asked.
Everyone who was currently on the line in the para-raid replied simultaneously.
"Kuro*."
"Shiro*."
"Nike*."
"Chibi*."
"Kitty."
"Remark."
"...Naming the cat after the author of the book you're reading is certainly the height of indifference, but what you're reading is even worse..."
The last phrase was uttered by Laughing Fox. He was the only one who didn't offer his nickna.
anwhile, Lena stopped understanding what was being discussed.
"So... do you have many cats?"
"I told you, only one survived."
Lena was thoroughly confused, but Black Dog ca to her rescue.
"This is a black cat with white paws. So, soone calls him black, soone white, and soone — bicolor. Besides, he doesn't have an adopted na, and everyone can call him whatever they like. Recently, he learned to respond just to the sound of the voice."
"Now it makes sense."
"But why did it turn out like this?"
"Well, you see..."
Black Dog seed to hesitate for a mont.
And then abruptly disconnected the para-raid.
Krena suddenly got up, kicked the chair with her foot, and left the room. Daiya was closest to the exit, and he rushed after her.
The chair fell to the floor with a loud thud.
"...Uh, what happened?"
Daiya's para-raid was already turned off, and Krena hadn't turned hers on from the beginning. Shin hurriedly responded to smooth things over:
"Mm. Yeah, a mouse ran out."
"A mouse?!"
"...Yeah, the height of indifference," murmured Seo. His remark, apparently, went unheard by the curator.
"A mouse ran out?"
"Yeah, he's not good with that."
The room filled with agitated voices, and Shin absentmindedly answered them, looking at the tilted door that closed behind Krena.
At the end of the corridor, Daiya caught up with Krena, and she said curtly:
"Why is everyone... with her? I can't stand her voice, it makes sick. These evenings used to be our ti, so important, pleasant, and hardly carved out."
"Krena..."
"Why does everyone talk to that girl?"
"It's only temporary. Soon the princess herself will stop contacting us."
Daiya shrugged and looked at her incredibly seriously, as if all the fun before that was fake. History will repeat itself. Not a single curator could endure the God of Death.
The curator still doesn't know how Shin got his nickna, really. She hasn't had to deal with those yet, but her luck won't last long.
Black sheep among the ordinary whites. Dangerous others.
They were called black for their rarity, but now there were even more of them than whites.
And even more dangerous shepherds.
Krena gritted her teeth. She understood, but still.
"Shin would be better off cutting ties with her," she said with undisguised annoyance. "We don't need to waste ti on the white pigs. It'd be better to set the para-raid to minimum settings..."
"Well, that's usually what they do. But Shin seems to be fine with everything, and he's not planning to cut anything off."
On the front lines, it's always so noisy that most processors prefer to set their para-raid to the lowest synchronization level, allowing for normal communication only within the nearest territory.
"But that's not even the point. Can you directly tell Shin about all this? Ask him to stop communicating with her because you don't like it?" Daiya asked quietly. There was no irony in his tone, only concern.
Krena bit her lip. Daiya was right. It wouldn't be appropriate.
Everyone in the squadron considers Shin a mber of the family. And you can't make the family worry.
Shin's life already had enough horrors.
"Sorry... but I just can't forgive them. They killed my mother and father. Shot them like targets in a shooting range."
It happened on the night they were supposed to be escorted to the camp. Several soldiers from Alb were betting on where they could hit and how many tortures the victim could endure before dying. They laughed while torturing her parents, and then killed them.
Her older sister was sent to the front imdiately upon arrival at the camp. There was a seven-year age difference between them, but 15-year-old Krena had already surpassed her in rank.
That sa night, so soldier from Selena chased away those scumbags, tried to help her parents, and when it beca clear they couldn't be saved, apologized to her and her sister. He was covered in her mother's and father's blood.
"All white pigs — scum... I'll never forgive them."
Daiya and Krena soon returned. By that ti, the conversation about mice had flowed into a discussion of the situation on the front lines, then retelling so tales, and ultimately Kaye's story about how she once saw a teor shower.
eting Raiden's gaze, Daiya shrugged briefly and returned to fixing the radio. Krena sat on the floor near Shin and took the kitten — hardly out of a desire to play with him.
Shin moved over, making space on the bed, and offered Krena to sit next to him. She lifted the kitten onto her lap and, strangely enough, agreed. Maintaining a indifferent expression, she sat on the edge of the bed.
"Are you serious, Sakura? Were there really that many stars?"
"So many that they couldn't be counted. It was two years ago, they were falling everywhere to the horizon. The sky was filled with shooting lights — it was a beautiful sight."
Kaye, nodding, dealt cards, including to Krena, who had left her seat at the table.
Raiden had also seen that teor shower, but it was in the midst of the battlefield, amidst the wreckage of friends and foes, and only Shin was nearby. The already grim situation was exacerbated by the fact that their juggernaut engines had stalled, and they couldn't move until they were found by the missing Faid.
Krena clenched her teeth. She understood, but still.
"Shin would be better off cutting ties with her," she said with undisguised irritation. "As if we needed to waste ti on white pigs. It would be better to set minimal settings on the para-raid..."
"Well, usually that's what they do. But it seems like Shin is okay with everything, and he's not planning on cutting ties."
On the frontlines, it's always so noisy that most processors prefer to set the para-raid to the lowest level of synchronization, allowing for normal communication only within the nearest vicinity.
"It's not even about that. Can you directly tell Shin about everything? Ask him to stop communicating with her because you don't like it?" Daiya asked quietly. There was no irony in his tone, only concern.
Krena bit her lip. Daiya was right. It wouldn't be appropriate.
Everyone in the squadron considers Shin a mber of the family. And you can't make the family worry.
In Shin's life, there were already plenty of horrors.
"I'm sorry... But I just can't forgive them. They killed my mother and father. They shot at them like targets at a shooting range."
It happened on the night they were supposed to be escorted to the camp. Several soldiers from Alba were betting on who would hit where, and how much torture the victim would endure before dying. They laughed as they tortured her parents, and then they killed them.
Her older sister was sent to the frontlines imdiately upon arrival at the camp. There was a seven-year age gap between them, but 15-year-old Krena had already outranked her in service.
That sa night, so soldier from Selena drove those bastards away, tried to help her parents, and when it beca clear they couldn't be saved, he apologized to her and her sister. He was covered in her mother's and father's blood.
"All those white pigs... I'll never forgive them."
Daiya and Krena soon returned. By that ti, the conversation about the mice had shifted to discussing the situation on the frontlines, then retelling so stories, and ultimately, Kaiye's tale of seeing a teor shower long ago.
eting eyes with Raiden, Daiya shrugged briefly and returned to repairing the radio. Krena sat on the floor not far from Shin and took the kitten — probably not out of a desire to play with it.
Shin scooted over, making room on the bed, and offered Krena to sit next to him. She picked up the kitten and, strangely enough, agreed. Maintaining a neutral expression, she sat on the edge of the bed.
"Seriously, Sakura? Were there really that many stars?"
"So many that you couldn't count. It was two years ago, they were falling everywhere, all the way to the horizon. The sky was full of shooting lights — it was a beautiful sight."
Kaiye nodded, smiling slightly, dealing cards, including to Krena, who had left her seat at the table.
Raiden had also seen that teor shower, but it was in the midst of the battlefield, among the wreckage of friends and foes, with only Shin nearby. And the already grim situation was compounded by the fact that their Jaeger engines had stalled, and they couldn't move until they were found by a missing Faid.
A bitter smirk ford on Kaye's lips.
"I am Orient. In the camp, and in previous places of service, I've seen all sorts."
"And not just . Anju, and probably Shin too, even though he's silent."
Eighty-Six often vented their dissatisfaction with life on those whose blood flows with Alb or imperial lineage, which beca the pretext for the formation of camps, or simply aristocrats. For so inexplicable reason, those from the least populous eastern and southeastern regions of the Republic were also targeted.
Eighty-Six were not just innocent victims.
The world is always cruel to the weak and the few.
"In any case, I've never seen good Albs myself, but I know those who have. So I don't hate Albs simply because they're Albs."
"Oh, is that so?... I want to apologize for those among us who have hurt you."
Kaye leaned forward slightly, forgetting she was speaking over the pararaid, not face-to-face.
"I also have a question. Why are you so concerned about us?"
Suddenly, a picture of raging flas flashed before Shin's eyes, and he looked up.
He didn't rember any fires or burnt people, which ant it was the curator's mory.
"A long ti ago, my life was saved by a processor, one of your comrades..."
Lena imrsed herself in mories.
"We are citizens of the Republic, born and raised in this country."
"Though we aren't recognized now, it's just another reason to prove it. Defending our country is the proud duty of a citizen. That's why we fight."
He saved her, that person. And she thought she wanted to live, guided by his words.
"He said he fights to prove he's a citizen of the Republic. I believe we Albs should live according to those words. We acknowledge the war, but we don't even try to see it with our own eyes and get to know you better... That's unacceptable."
The curator's words were beautiful — almost too much — and Raiden involuntarily squinted.
Kaye listened to the curator, tilting her head slightly to the side in thought, and opened her mouth in contemplation when silence fell.
"Curator One. You seem to have preserved your innocence..."
A sound ca through the pararaid, as if the curator had choked on tea or sothing similar. Everyone connected burst into laughter imdiately.
Krena and Hart, who were not connected to the pararaid, looked puzzled at the others. Anju explained what happened, and they laughed too.
The girl-curator couldn't seem to stop coughing.
In response to the reaction following her words, Kaye blinked and paled.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I misspoke! I ant to say, your reasoning is innocent!"
In such monts, one cannot afford to misspeak. Subsequent explanations are aningless.
Daya and Hart seed to be dying as they pounded their hands on the table and the wall (a voice from beyond the wall sounded irritated — "stop making noise!"), and even Shin's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
Kaye looked completely bewildered.
"Well, um... It's like the words of a girl who thinks the world is a flowery adow, or soone who floats in their perfect fantasies... In short, I ant to say that..."
The curator blushed and froze as if turned to stone.
"...You're not a bad person. That's why I want to give you advice."
After calming down a bit, Kaye continued:
"You're not suitable for this position. You shouldn't get attached to us. We fight not because of so lofty ideals, so it's better to leave us alone... Find a replacent. Otherwise, you'll be disappointed."
Kaye said she was not a bad person.
Not good, but not bad.
At that mont, Lena couldn't understand why.
†
"Curator One to all squadron mbers. Enemy units detected on the radar."
That day, the "Spearhead" was on a full sortie. Lena reported data from the screen in the command room.
"The main forces are represented by Lions and Gray Wolves, with support from Bulls..."
"I'm aware, Curator One. Preparing an ambush at point 478."
"Uh... Roger that, Gravekeeper."
She was about to report the enemy's location and suggest interception strategy, but after being interrupted mid-sentence, she beca flustered and simply gave the go-ahead for the Gravekeeper's actions.
The "Spearhead" consisted of veterans who didn't need her guidance, so Lena's main task was to create all conditions for them to unleash their combat potential. She analyzed information about the enemies, ensured the fastest possible delivery of necessary supplies, visited the information center daily to find detailed information about various combat zones.
In recent days, she had been constantly sending requests for permission to use long-range projectiles stored in the rear. They could help alleviate the pressure from the Scorpions and ease the battles, but the snag was that their use was impossible without reloading after each shot. The transport departnt didn't seem particularly eager to spend extra ti and labor for the "Eighty-Six," so all her requests were rejected. "Those projectiles have probably rusted by now," said the Laughing Fox when she dared to complain about her futile attempts.
"Gravekeeper, Marksman in position."
"Laughing Fox to Gravekeeper. Third squad also in position."
Gradually, all squads took their designated positions. The formation was perfect, as if the Legion's route was right before their eyes.
The processors of the "Spearhead" acted as if they could predict enemy attacks and movent routes. Moreover, they likely operated based on their own, unknown signs and criteria.
"I'll have to ask them about this after the battle," thought Lena. If she shared these observations with other squadrons, it could reduce the number of deaths from unexpected attacks. A huge flaw in the Republic's shaky war strategy was precisely that valuable combat information never left individual regions, and no one even attempted to gather and disseminate it.
Turning away from these thoughts, Lena examined the map of the first combat zone, found only the previous evening.
"Gravekeeper, move the Marksman's position 500 ters to the 3 o'clock direction. There's a hill there where we can hide. The firing zone from this point is much wider."
There was a brief pause.
"Understood... Marksman, do you see this point?"
"One mont, 10 seconds... Yes, I see it. Changing position."
"The hill is on the opposite side from where the main forces, represented by the first squad, are located. Since the main tactic of the Gravekeeper is to sow discord among enemy ranks and destroy machines one by one, this could work in your favor by misleading the enemy about your true position and giving you room to maneuver."
The Werewolf smirked.
"So it's a trap, then? Not bad for a princess with such a voice."
"...The Lions and Bulls can't change the vertical firing angle. They won't be able to hit the Marksman if she's on the hill, and the nearest terrain will provide cover in case of retreat to another point..."
"Who would've thought. Not a bad suggestion, right, Marksman?"
"I'm ready for anything if it really helps others," the girl replied curtly and coldly turned to Lena. "Did you find a new map? That's helpful."
Lena smiled sadly. This girl, the Marksman, clearly disliked her: she didn't participate in the daily conversations on the para raid, and when they had to talk, she didn't hide her annoyance.
Lena had at her disposal a detailed map from the ti of the first war, the creation of which clearly took a lot of ti and effort. Nowadays, such maps are not even used in key defensive points like military bases on the front lines. The processors from the "Spearhead" use a map found by their predecessors in so ruins and constantly make corrections to it. It indicates the most convenient ambush points, as well as obvious routes for attacks, but processors are often poorly inford about the terrain.
"I can send it to you later."
The map was too large to send during battle, so it was better to do it later, in a calm environnt.
The Werewolf remarked mockingly, "Oh, really? Can you send a secret military map to the enemies of the people, 'Eighty-Six'?"
"It doesn't matter. What's the use of it if it's not being used?"
The Werewolf fell silent, as if caught off guard, and sighed deeply. It seed he approved of her words.
Lena found this map by sifting through a mountain of cardboard boxes, and it was still officially listed as lost. Undoubtedly, passing any copies of it would equate to theft, but since the map doesn't officially exist, there can be no leakage of classified information.
Nine years ago, the Republic lost its entire regular army down to the rearguard, so many military docunts were lost.
Honor and professionalism of the military also remained sowhere there, on the fields of past battles.
"Besides, you're not 'Eighty-Six.' At least, I've never called you that..."
"Yeah, yeah... They're coming."
A tense pause hung in the para raid. Lena felt that several people were even experiencing so amusent — whether from the adrenaline rush before the imminent clash or from the fact that battles had long beco routine for them.
The roar of artillery echoed inside each of them and reached Lena through the para raid.
The battle developed swiftly, and the Legion's red dots on the radar extinguished one by one.
The processors of the "Spearhead" used the first squad to lure the enemies into the nearest impassable forests, primarily dealing with the Bulls, which were characterized by poor maneuverability and defense despite being well-ard. Then it was the turn of the Grey Wolves and Lions, whose remnants gradually turned into piles. There were many obstacles in the forest, and the Lions, who were slow to adapt to the new environnt, couldn't display their maneuverability there, and their firing zone significantly narrowed. Due to the lack of free space, the Legion had to split into small groups, and its overwhelming nurical advantage ceased to play any role.
From the outside, it seed like the processors had long gotten used to such tactics, but in reality, it wasn't the case. Sakura's Juggernaut barely managed to dodge the projectile, veered towards the forest, and now rushed at full speed towards the Lion, aiming for its left side.
Lena flinched. Sothing was wrong with the Lion's position. Judging by the positions of the other enemy machines, it shouldn't have been there. Lions always positioned themselves to cover each other, but from this point, it was impossible.
Lena hurriedly checked the route on the terrain map.
"Oh no, Sakura, you can't go there!"
"Huh?"
It was too late.
Sakura's dot on the radar froze unnaturally.
"...Is that a swamp?!" Kaye yelled, shaking her head from side to side to focus—everything was blurry before her eyes. Due to the sudden stop, her Juggernaut tilted forward and half-sank into the ground with its two front limbs. In the darkness of the forest, the small marsh looked like a adow. There couldn't have been a worse place for a Juggernaut with its high ground pressure.
"If I reverse, maybe I can get out."
She gripped both control levers...
"Sakura, get out of there!"
Hearing Shin, she raised her head. The optical sensor turned upward following her gaze.
Right in front of her stood the Lion.
"...Oh!"
She was within the minimum range of engagent, and the Lion raised its front limbs over her. It acted calmly and rcilessly, like a well-oiled machine, grinding its victims without heeding their pleas.
"No..."
Her weak voice sounded like a cry of a small child.
"I don't want to die..."
The Lion's huge limbs, capable of easily carrying a load of 50 tons, struck the ground in parallel with a crash.
The cabin's detachable lantern, with its weak fastenings, easily detached under the influence of great force, taking with it whatever was inside the cabin. This feature earned it the processors' scornful nickna, the guillotine. And now it activated.
Sothing round fell to the ground with a dull thud and disappeared into the shadows of the trees.
A mont of stunned silence, and anger rged with sorrow.
"Sakura?!... Damn it!!!"
"Mogul, I'm going to get her. Give a minute! I can't leave her there!"
Shin's voice was absolutely calm. Calm like the frozen depths of a lake on a winter night:
"You can't, Snow Witch... It's a trap. There's an ambush there."
The Lion that killed Kaye was still lurking nearby. It was a standard strategy, initially used by snipers—a wounded or dead soldier becos bait, and those who co to help are picked off.
Anju sobbed and angrily hit the instrunt panel, which responded with a dull thud. The 57mm high-explosive shell she fired exploded, engulfing Sakura and the nearby area of the forest in flas. It was the least she could do.
"Sakura is dead. Fafnir, assist the 4th squad. There aren't many enemies left. We'll mourn the loss later, but right now, we need to pull ourselves together."
"Copy that."
There was indignation in the response, but no one succumbed to it. 'Eighty-Six' had long grown accustod to watching comrades die before their eyes or on the radar screen, where a friendly dot suddenly changed to "signal lost." Grieving had to wait until after the battle; otherwise, you'd also perish—it was a rule that helped push emotions aside and maintain the cold reason so necessary in such monts. It wasn't human thinking, but that of a war machine, and only it helped survive in the madness of war.
The montarily paused quadrupedal spiders moved into the forest again with a dreadful tallic clatter.
The eerie darkness surrounded them, and they crept through it like skeletons, eager to strangle a new victim and send it after their fallen comrade.
And soon after that, the Legion's forces were literally obliterated.
They weren't given a chance to retreat.
Lena felt the strength of the remaining processors' will, and sorrow gripped her heart like a vice.
In her mory surfaced yesterday's—just yesterday—conversation about the teor shower and her own proud words. Regret washed over her.
"If only I had found the map earlier..."
"If only I had warned them in ti..."
"The operation is complete... To all mbers of the squadron—good job."
No one responded to her. Everyone was experiencing their own grief right now.
"What happened to Sakura... I'm sorry. If only I had perford better..."
A montary pause.
A chilling silence fell on the other side of the para-raid.
"...Sorry?"
It was the Laughing Fox. His voice was quiet, but there were shrill undertones in it, as if he were trying to hold back an imminent explosion.
"What are you sorry for? One pig died or two—what's the difference to you if you'll forget about it over dinner at ho? Sweet voice and empty words!"
For a mont, she couldn't grasp the aning of what was said.
Lena froze, and the Fox kept on speaking, repeatedly drawing breath to continue. He no longer hid his hatred, and his words were rciless.
— I'm getting bored here, so I decided to play the saint. It's so much fun, being the only one who doesn't treat you like pigs, the embodint of virtue, honor, and rcy. And I'll even talk to you when I feel like it! But now, listen to what I have to say. We just lost a comrade here. And at such a mont, your hypocrisy makes everyone sick, do you understand?
— But...
Hypocrisy?
— Or what? Do you think we don't care about the death of a comrade? Oh, well, what can you expect from "Eighty-Six"? They're not as wonderful as you, not even human, just pigs, right?!
— No...
Lena's head felt empty from the unexpectedness of it all.
— It's not true! I didn't...
— Not true? What's not true? You threw us here and forced us to fight, using us as weapons, while you comfortably settled behind the wall, imagining yourselves as superior beings! You enjoy what happens to us with an impassive face—if that's not pig-like behavior, then what is it?!
The para-raid transmitted the processors' emotions.
So people remained indifferent, but others, including the Laughing Fox, exuded coldness—so more, so less. Cold hatred, contempt, or despair.
— You never once called us "Eighty-Six"? Well, maybe not openly! "Defending your country is a proud citizen's duty, you must rember that"! What's that supposed to an?! Do you hope we'll fight for you? You hid and forced us to fight by force! How many millions of people have you killed in these 9 years?! Do you think a few kind words every day are enough for us to believe that you treat us like humans? And this while people continue to die! You...
And then he rcilessly presented his final argunt.
She thought she was talking to them as equals, like humans. But the Fox provided the definitive proof that it was an illusion, and they remained pigs to her:
— You didn't even bother to ask our nas!
Reviews
All reviews (0)