Spears jabbed and thrust into the crowd, piercing through ragged clothing and starved flesh, but each fallen attacker was replaced by two more. The air was thick with the cries of rage, pain, and desperation, mingling with the dull clang of weapons against shields and the wet thuds of blows landing on flesh, followed by body hitting the ground.
A soldier near the center of the line gritted his teeth as he drove his spear into the stomach of a refugee. The man fell with a choking gasp, but before the soldier could pull his weapon free, two others seized the shaft, yanking it from his hands. Their faces, gaunt and hollow with starvation, twisted with fury as they lunged at him. The soldier raised his shield just in time, catching one across the chest, but the other grabbed his arm and pulled him forward.
