As we moved further in the direction of the Native Alliance Army's collapse, the signs of war began to change.
No longer dense with corpses and scorched earth, instead, there appeared more luggage abandoned in retreat, broken vehicles, and scattered personal belongings.
A water bottle, a torn doll, a letter trampled into the mud... these trivial items spoke more silently of the panic and despair of the defeated than those grim corpses.
Occasionally, small groups of routed soldiers could be seen captured by the legion patrols, their clothes tattered, eyes hollow, numbly chained together and driven toward temporary prisoner camps at the rear; their will to resist seemingly obliterated in the last rout.
The sky remained overcast, as if unwilling to witness the scars on this land.
On the horizon in the distance, the outline of the inland of the Buren Continent was now visible.
