Mingling Information

I looked at the map with a growing sense of unease.

In theory, I had thousands of options. But most of them would result in nothing more that my troops dying quickly at the enemy's hands, or rather their weapons.

No, I had only two viable options. East, over the mountain, or West, through the swamp. Both dangerous, both with threats, and-

"Sir, urgent message from the opposing army General, Sir!"

I glanced at the messenger and then the plate of cold meat. Only George would insult me that way.

And that made my choice, since he hated the cold.