They circle their wagons, guns drawn protecting their prized possessions. Like vicious animals the weight of responsibility wears on them.
They plot and strategize to make sure no one breaks the perimeter, no one gets in. They never turn around, never look behind and they forget one thing.
What are they protecting? Who is the enemy of their souls? There is nothing in the circle, nothing inside, just a void.
Unee is with me.