When darkness spread her blanket on the battlefield, it wasn't the screaming of the men that kept me awake. The screaming of the horses drove dreams from me. The men had gone into battle fully aware of the stakes. The horses had no stake in the outcome. Horses don't fight for our side or theirs. The went into battle because they trusted the men on their backs to keep them safe. Their screams of pain and betrayal kept even the crows weeping in the trees. Lantern candles bob above the grasses harvesting spirits. Pistol shots send prayers to the stars as screams fall silent one by one. By the witches midnight all that's left is the amputated moans of the men still on the field who know help or peace is no longer coming for them.