Cloudspine

I see the arrows fly above,

I see their tips ablaze.

A brief distraction from the slaughter,

Brief respite from battle's haze.

…

Wade through bodies, wade through snow,

The white is stained with blood.

The Armies of the Dark are legion,

And they surge forth like a flood.

…

A flood that's mostly shambling,

But a flood with ranks abreast.

Wearing us down over time,

As men take their final breaths.

…

Above screams of the dying,

I hear the sound of horn.

Three blasts signal to retreat,

Its drone sounds so forlorn.

…

So we stagger westward through the snow,

The dead upon our heels.

I think of uttered falsehoods,

"The West shall never yield."

…

So west we flee, to setting sun,

To land of fading light.

Behind us, Armies of the Dark,

Heralds of eternal night.