Ten thousand years ago, two dozen people knelt on the wet shore of the lake. Their hands were bound with cord. One woman tried to cradle her swollen belly, only days from giving birth.
The Others, the ones who had bound them, approached. The lake was theirs, but it was not enough to merely take ownership.
The club came down. Bone splintered. Blood sprayed. One after another the bound raised their hands and called out in desperation or prayer. One by one they died.
It probably was not the first war crime, and it certainly would not be the last.
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