The scouts rush toward the general’s tent, moving as fast as their battered bodies will allow. They collapse just outside the threshold, too weak to stand, but wise enough not to risk execution by barging in unannounced—an act of utter disrespect.

The general and his lieutenant hurry out of the tent upon hearing that the scouts are lying just outside in such dire condition. The general greets them with great respect, shouting orders to fetch caregivers, water, and provisions, before demanding the information they’ve returned with.

One scout, his breath labored, reports in barely audible gasps, “Army… vast, sir! No order… ranks… just chaos.” His final words before his body goes limp.

The general turns to the second scout, who appears to be muttering the same word repeatedly, almost inaudible. The general leans closer, straining to understand the dying soldier’s words.

“R. R. Ra. Ra. Ra,” the scout struggles to say.

The general yells, his tone low but commanding, “Speak, soldier! Speak!”

“Ra! Ra! Ra!” is all the soldier can repeat.

The caregivers pause when they see the state of the two scouts, realizing these men are taking their last breaths. The lieutenant wets a cloth in a basin one of the caregivers brought, squeezing water over the soldier’s face, providing relief from the heat, and a quick drink. As the lieutenant stands, he addresses the general, “I think he’s saying ‘run,’ sir.”

The general rises, stepping aside to let the caregivers tend to the men’s wounds. As he moves back into the tent, he mutters almost to himself, “These are simple people. Not sons of war. Why has the king brought this evil to their doors? God of the Most High! I beg for Your grace & mercy! Deliver us from this evil?!.”

The lieutenant waits, more to calm his nerves than concern for interrupting, “According to those who found our men, we have about a day and a half. Two days at most,” the lieutenant says.

“That’s less than a day to prepare,” the general remarks grimly. “Gather every available man to the river at the bottom of the valley, immediately.”

Within hours, fires blaze wildly as tens of thousands of men gather by the riverbank. “This is no army. These are farmers and shepherds,” the general says, despair creeping into his voice. “Send every man who has never held a blade home. They will cause the man next to them to fall. Have them make haste before they’re overrun.”

The chaotic exodus of makeshift troops is deafening. The remaining men wear expressions of panic and dread after such a large number had left. The lieutenant approaches the general, sheepishly. “Sir,” he says hesitantly, “some of the men have no male heirs to carry their names. They’re requesting to return to their wives one last time.”

Looking up at the sky, the general sighs, “This isn’t a battle we can win without divine intervention. The sun will set soon. Let’s go down to the men and pray God guides us to victory.”

As they make their way through the ranks of worn-out, weary men, the general motions to his lieutenant. “Grant the request. Any man who hasn’t yet lived the life of a man or has no male heir may be dismissed.”

With each step, the general silently questions every decision. He knows the tribes face annihilation. No one may remain to carry the stories, family names, or culture into the next generation. All he can do is grant them one last moment with a loved one and pray.

The lieutenant returns, having given the orders for all young, unmarried men to retreat to the capital or flee to other lands if they fear persecution for deserting their duty. Despite the orders, many may see this as the coward’s way out. Suddenly, the general stops abruptly, startling the lieutenant.

The lieutenant, filled with dread, approaches cautiously. Then he sees what the general is staring at. “The A túk í,” the lieutenant whispers, taking slow, silent steps into the general’s view. “What are they doing here?”

“I don’t know,” the general replies, watching three men drink from the stream like wild beasts.

“We can’t win in this condition…” the lieutenant’s words trail off as he notices that the rest of their men have retreated to the far edges of the camp, away from the water. “The A túk í is worse than rabid animals. A single wounded A túk í could fall ten men before going down. They have no respect for women, children, or mercy. We are truly doomed,” the lieutenant mutters through clenched teeth.

Without a word, the general steps toward the A túk í by the water’s edge. “Stay here,” he commands the lieutenant who was reluctantly following behind. Dropping his sword with a loud crash, the general continues forward.

The three A túk í stop their violent banter and turn to face the general, who now kneels on one knee, showing that he means no harm & a display of respect. One of the scar-covered men glances over his shoulder, then back at the general. After a few guttural exchanges between them, the A túk í abruptly sprint off into the thick bushes lining the riverbank.

The general looks skyward, mouths something inaudible to the lieutenant, then quickens his pace back towards camp.

“Hurry! The sun will be low soon,” the general shouts. “Have every man come drink from the river! Any man who doesn’t lap the water like a dog or wild beast, send them away.” the general says in a slightly lowered tone. God has appeared to work His unknown.

Back in the tent, the lieutenant enters as the general hastily packs. In the softest tone, the lieutenant risks his life by asking, “General, are you mad? There are barely enough men left to call a dozen! The A túk í only have a few hundred in there tribe! This will surely doom us!!”

Without slowing, the general replies, “I have prayed for guidance, and God has shown me the way. These invaders don’t threaten just our lands or the king’s castle. They come to invade the land of the A túk í as well. This is a fierce battle our farmers cannot win. God has appointed the merciless to deal with them. The A túk í are as close to the sons and daughters of chaos as one can get. Their heirs must have no place in our future, or we will face this war again in decades to come.”

As darkness creeps over the mountains and smoke billows from the enemy’s fires giving way to an early sunset, the general tosses his most loyal soldier, the lieutenant, his belongings. “And if you ever address me in such a manner again, I’ll have you dragged behind my chariot until supper,” the general warns, before they both rush out of the tent.