The Black Hawks flew across the skies for hours.
Below them, forests stretched endlessly beneath the afternoon sunlight while rivers cut through valleys and hills like silver veins across the land. From inside the helicopter cabin, the medieval world looked strangely peaceful again.
No burning ruins.
No machine gun fire.
No screaming brigands.
Just wilderness.
The steady vibration of the rotors filled the cabin while Atlas personnel sat along the sides resting after the operation in Falmouth. Some cleaned rifles. Others leaned back with eyes closed, catching sleep whenever they could.
The mission was over.
At least for now.
Marcus sat near the side door while staring outside quietly. His headset rested around his neck while the wind occasionally rattled faintly through the cabin whenever the helicopter shifted direction slightly.
Across from him, Rolf stretched his shoulders with a groan.
"I swear my back hurts more from sitting in helicopters than combat."
