The bodies of the fallen lay all around; gone, but not forgotten.
The sick bays are overflowing.
I look into the eyes of my companions and see the question in their eyes; the same question that haunts my mind.
Who will be next?
Which one of us would suffer the curse and join our fallen comrades?
The dragon’s roar is muted now, as our chances of victory slip farther and farther away.
How many more good men can we lose before we implode?
We’re already scraping the bottom of the barrel for backs to play on the Welsh rugby team.