A lonely bird sang his wistful song sitting in one of the large trees surrounding the clearing and greeting the early spring and the surprising warm sun that peeked out of
the white clouds traveling over the clear blue sky like a flock of sheep.
It wouldn't take long until its cheerful song would be answered by other birds coming back from their yearly journey to the south,
searching for a partner to build a nest and raise little birds with like they had done for so many many years by now.
The peace had returned to the clearing and the loud noise of the short but bloody battle had faded.
There were still members of the Teuton tribe called 'Mattiacer' who didn't accept the Romans close to their territory and who tried to attack and kill as much of the hated enemies as possible.
Legatus legioni Marcus Retus considered the captive standing in front of him with a defiant look in his astonishing hazel-green eyes and his lips pressed to a thin line.
He was still more a boy than a young man, the soft round of his rosy cheeks proving his youth and innocence clearly to Marcus.
He was filthy and had several scratches all over his face and his naked arms, but, Marcus could see the beauty underneath all of his defiance,
dirt and bruises and he had to suppress the sudden urge to reach out and touch the red mark his own weapon had left upon the smooth pale skin of the young man's shoulder.
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