The sentry never heard me. I stab all the way through his neck, behind the jugular. Pushing the blade forward, I tear out his throat. He dies without even a whisper. Quietly, I drag him into the woods, away from patrols.
With my hatchet, I split his skull, careful not to harm the brain. My knife severs the brainstem. Raising the brain to my lips, I sink my teeth into it, biting off gory chunks, swallowing the grey matter.
Closing my eyes, I sift through his memories. Childhood, first love, basic training, their hidden headquarters.
I radio for an airstrike.
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Heartwood by R.J. Cannon"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Denied by J.B. Corso"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Cold Recognition by Andreas Flögel"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Winter Feast by Pauline Yates"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>