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,,,,,,,,,, In  The  Endless  Winter  Day,  On   The ,,,,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,,,, Crystal White Plains... We Trudge  Along ,,,,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,,,,   The Train Tracks... Themselves Slowly  ,,,,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,,,, Snowed Over,  In The  Still Hours  Since ,,,,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,,,,          The Last Supply Train.          ,,,,,,,,,,
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,,,,,,,,,,     Bell-Like Sounds Of The Blinding     ,,,,,,,,,,
«,,,,,,,,, Ground.  Rifles  Attached To  Our Wrist, ,,,,,,,,,«
†«,,,,,,,, Sharing In  Our  Bloodstream. My  Husky, ,,,,,,,,«†
%†«,,,,,,,      My Warm-Coffee-In-Cold-Snow...      ,,,,,,,«†%
£%†«,,,,,,                                          ,,,,,,«†%£
&£%†«,,,,, The  First  Five  Shots  You  Can  Spend ,,,,,«†%£&
@&£%†«,,,, Indiscriminately, They Hurt But Deal  No ,,,,«†%£&@
#@&£%†«,,, Long Time  Damage  To  The  Shooter. The ,,,«†%£&@#
##@&£%†«,, Next  Five You Must Spend  Wisely,  They ,,«†%£&@##
#@&£%†«,,, Will  Take Days To Heal.  The Final Five ,,,«†%£&@#
@&£%†«,,,, You    Must    Not    Spend    At   All. ,,,,«†%£&@
&£%†«,,,,,                                          ,,,,,«†%£&
£%†«,,,,,, Weeks  Earlier, In The Weak Autumn Dawn, ,,,,,,«†%£
%†«,,,,,,, In The  Blue-Gray  Fog...  Something  Is ,,,,,,,«†%
†«,,,,,,,, Burning   With  A  Deep  Crimson  Flame, ,,,,,,,,«†
«,,,,,,,,,       Untameable By Water Or Wind.       ,,,,,,,,,«
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