The smoke hung heavy like a dirty shroud over the banks of the Dry Sand River.
At the second defense line, Song Heping leaned against a solid rock formation and removed the empty magazine from his SVD sniper rifle.
"Click!"
The latch made a light sound.
He pulled out a fresh, full magazine from the pouch on his tactical vest, expertly snapped it into the rifle's receiver, then slightly leaned out to extend the barrel, pressing his eye against the slightly softened rubber eye-piece of the PSO-1 scope.
In his view, hundreds of meters away, the 1515 armed militants had temporarily lost the courage for a mass assault, crowding together like a pack of hyenas.
This momentary calm was time for both sides to lick their wounds, and also the prelude to another brewing storm.
