Rand Weylyn was in the trenches, desperately trying to escape. He barely noticed that there were men in their 70s that were being drafted. The world seemed to rush by so fast that he barely noticed what he was stepping on. He was going through the mud, so the squishing sound didn't bother him. He glanced down and discovered what he was actually standing on.

It was a man. He was dead. His eyes bulged out of his head, his stomach squished in from being stepped on. His eyes, nose and mouth were filled with flies.

Rand threw up.