**
The sky was permeated with a dull gray which seemingly infected the clouds above like a virus.
Below the supposed infectants, a convoy marched forward in columnized groups. Their morale ran low, following tedious days of march under the harrowing sky above.
The terrain which they traversed varied between rigid and rough…
…There was no change at all.
They had simply walked day after day, conquering small protrusions of rock with each step, leaving behind overlapping imprints of rubber boots in the crumbling snow.
Lives had been both lost and gained over the days. While people had lost their lives to various causes, casualties were expected to be higher. This in of itself was seen as "additional life" in the eyes of realists.
But still, rations ran low, and energy consumption grew unsteady. If the rocky terrain continued with no change, the convoy would simply be prolonging a regretful death. The longer it was to be prolonged, the more regret would build.
As this concept weighed down upon the ranks of many soldiers… there was, change.
In the distant lands of the dreary and remote region, a change, pierced the skies.
A mountain which steadily built itself into the clouds appeared within view of the company's vanguard. The gasps of the convoy's top brass blurred the air in front of them, as their heated breath turned to palpable air.
The summit of the looming rock was masked behind the cold-infected clouds. The large protrusion in the ground built itself from a wide base, which steadily dwindled into an incongruent mess of overhangs and protuberances.
One of the few leaders took quick glances at his peers, who met his gazes alike. Suddenly, he stopped his march and turned his back to the mountain, facing the formal crowd of people- prompting an abrupt stop.
The synchronization of an ending march contrastingly resulted in a cacophony of following sounds- ones which were before obscured by the loud trampling of thousands.
Then, the brew of white noise came to an exacted halt, as a domineering voice took precedence over all else.
"NO MORE THAN ONE MORE DAY, MEN. OUR FALLEN SHALL NOT RETIRE AS USELESS SACRIFICES, NOR SHALL WE OURSELVES RETURN TO THEM. REMEMBER YOUR REASON, AND REMEMBER THE CAUSE- FOR WE SHALL CONQUER BOTH ALONG WITH THE UNKNOWN!.."
The longer the voice rang out, the more the ground shuddered. It was as if the man's voice gave effect to the ground itself- let alone the people which he led…
Though, in regards to the commander's platoon, they grew unexpectedly silent. No more so than they already were, at least.
And then, they changed.
They became strangely invigored, their voices rolling across the vast lands.
In fact, the levels to which these men were inspired to would appear uncanny to unaffected outsiders.
…Or, unaffected insiders…
Deep within the sea of men, a boy, one of the youngest there, stood. His black hair was outcasted by the white snow which slowly found its place.
His deadpan face went unnoticed by peers, as they were too busy raving over their commander's sudden allocution.
He pulled his beanie down and tilted his head towards the thin snow.
Taking an exasperated breath, cold air suppressed his face, masking any expression that he so desired to weave.
But, there was none. He stayed deadpanned, as his mouth kept linear. His brows kept firm, barely frosted by the cold. His eyes, however…
His eyes showed death and determination. Nothing in between. As if he couldn't pick between one. As if that was all he had left.
As if death was simply the end of his determination.
As if determination simply led him to his death.
**