Sticks and rubble kick aside as we walk in lock step, the forest giving way to our Legion.

We are brothers.

In front of me stands Quintus, he has always been the one to count on when the nights grew dark and our souls felt heavy. He could even get the captain to laugh. To my left is Caius, he had claimed the nickname Bruiser as a joke. He has the kindest heart among us. To my right is Lucius, the stoic poet of the troop. To him everything is poetry, and he takes poetry very seriously. Behind me I could hear the steps of Titus, heavy thumping that holds up the mountain that is his body. He was my daughter's caretaker while I was on my first tour before he came of age. Above me is Felix, conscripted by his father he found his freedom in death. Great black wings beat silently above the rank and file.

We are brothers.

I’ve lost count of how many years we’ve walked across this continent. Back and forth, leaving battle behind us wherever we went. Mercenaries some called us, those with flair called us the forgotten legion, then those that we left in our wake called us butchers. But they were all wrong, we are none of those things.

We are brothers.

The steps echoed into a welcome harmony in the forest and what echoed back was the brush and rattle of leaves and branches. They were moving through the forest like snakes through sand, we were the invaders here. You could see their eyes peeking through the darkness, their breath panting into the growth of the woods, their blood lust hanging in the air. They were a mighty pack leading us into a trap, we have been led into worse.

The legion’s steps fell silent, my brothers around me looked to me with grim faces. They could not see the wolves, they relied on me and those of my kind to see the wolves on the other side. We were surrounded. We were outnumbered. We were ready.

The wolves wandered from the woods, their plan to enter our ranks before entering this realm. It was time to spring the trap. I opened my arms to my brothers, my skin bared before them. They did not hesitate, but I could see the regret in their eyes as their fangs pulled at my flesh. The world faded for me as they let go and pierced through to the deadlands.

I can hear the howls, the drag of claws on the earth, the snarls of violence between their fangs. I wake and the battle is over, my eyes open and I see them come to me. The familiar wolf muzzles, the dead walk with them in the old armor of Rome, they are looking at me with pity and shame.

I am in pieces on the bed of the forest. Quintus was the first to speak, he told me I looked like a steak thrown to the hounds. Caius looked at me through blood stained eyes, warmth filling my spirit knowing he survived. Titus thumped forward, eyes strained at the book in his hands. Lucious’ book of poetry. My heart ached and moaned, my own voice turned inward and spiraled my loss into a pit of woe. Felix landed by me, his hand on my chest to ease the pain of such loss. I am weeping and they are around me. I am too weak to thrash my limbs in anger and they kneel beside me. I want to flee this feeling and they hold me. I want this to be the last one we lose and they mourn with me.

We are brothers.