The war was riveting. Some nights, she would watch the firefights from a hidden perch within the trees or in the shadows. She watched the men hiding in trenches, moving in sporadic fashion to launch volley after volley of attacks. Hell, some were merely boys.
They ran with limited light, killing with guns, knives and bombs. Their bodies were getting snared, becoming tangled and mangled in barbed wire lines.
One evening, she came upon a small battlefield. Men were getting tangled in the razor-wire fences and posts. Some were still alive, their bodies ripped apart and torn asunder in their panic and struggles to free themselves. Their cries echoed through the night.
Addison fed on them. It was an easy meal. There was no thrill of the hunt, but when opportunity knocked, you answered the door, she figured.
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