"I didn't catch that; say it again."
The Eastern General's voice crackled through the communication device strapped tightly to his left forearm. He leaned closer, gripping the receiver like a lifeline, but there was no reply.
Only a hollow, hissing noise... the empty whisper of static. No words. No breath. Just silence.
A cold weight pressed down on his chest like invisible iron. He exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the growing knot in his stomach.
"...I don't like this," he muttered under his breath while his eyes locked on the battlefield ahead. Smoke drifted across the field in thick, dirty clouds, blotting out the horizon and painting everything in shades of gray. "Something's wrong. I can feel it... in my old bones."
His instincts, sharpened by decades of war, were screaming. Something wasn't right. Something was hiding in the smoke.
