The butterfly breaks through the mist that rises early morning.
The fire from the war still smolders long after the moon is gone.
Now they can finally go home.
Alone in the wild the small band wanders.
A mountain pass rises in the distance and
A plain strewn with bodies lies behind.
How did they get so far from home?
There before them stands a swamp none remembered traveling through.
“Dark magic” one in the company whispers.
Shivers crawl down their spines and a crow calls harshly.
They wish they were home.
A day of sloshing through tepid water.
The men are exhausted.
Mud clings like jealous lovers, and
Night falls quickly.
Creatures of the dark begin to prowl.
One wonders if he will make it home.
(I might rewrite this to be a short story. Tell me what you think)