The battle is won, but the war?

As the haze cleared, I gazed out over the battlefield.

Thousands of bodies littered the urban jungle in the aftermath of a cataclysmic event. This was no random act of nature, no small skirmish in a civil war. This was genocide.

A few brave souls scoured the massacre, searching for life among the dead. They stumbled in confusion, in horror, at the acres of bodies, piled dead on dead. Some lay in orderly, soldierly rows, some stacked like dry cords of wood.

And yet, though the battle is over, the war has only started.

This was not the first battle, far from it. The enemy was bent on a systematic destruction of all these poor souls held dear. Battles had been fought, and lost; brave warriors falling in their tracks; scouts and supply depots vanished in puffs of smoke.

Yet still they returned. For them, it was not a matter of territory. It was survival. Winter conditions so harsh forced them from their homes. Years of drought and massive overpopulation pushed society past the breaking point. They had no other option but to force their way into a land where they did not belong.

And so they met with me.

I've won this battle - but the war?

Editor's note: The Pierce household has been suffering from an ant infestation in kitchen, bathroom, and hallway.