WHUMP.
WHUMP.
WHUMP.
The Black Hawk continued flying through the night.
Inside the cabin, nobody spoke.
The only sounds were the rhythmic beating of the rotor blades and the occasional static from the radio.
Everyone was exhausted.
Sweat soaked their uniforms.
Several magazines lay empty on the floor.
One infantryman still had an arrow lodged through his shoulder, though thankfully it had passed through the fleshy part without hitting bone.
The medic was already treating him.
Yet despite surviving the encounter, nobody looked relieved.
Because what they had discovered tonight was far bigger than any of them had imagined.
Rolf sat against the cabin wall.
His helmet rested beside him.
His face looked pale.
After nearly ten minutes of silence, he finally spoke.
"...Did we just get hunted by an entire civilization?"
Nobody answered.
Because everyone was asking themselves the same thing.
The wounded soldier winced as the medic disinfected the wound.
