The light was fading from the world for him. He rose up a hand to his face to shield one eye. It wasn't chariots he seeing any longer, but candles, being blown out by a breeze. It was far too much, far too easily. Never before had he seen his chariots be made to look so weak.
When the Stormfront infantry arrived, finally catching up with their cavalry, it was all over. Any hopes of those handful of chariots returning back to camp were lost. They were brutalized where they stood, and hardly a thought was spared for the damage that was inflicted.
