“‘The soldiers did this three years ago.’ Skeletons sprawled in heaps along the base of the cliff. Dried corpses hung heads down from thorn bushes. The braided hair of girls and women dangled from their skulls and strips of their clothes flapped in the breeze. Tangled bones littered the earth for a hundred yards along the bottom of the precipice. ‘Three thousand of my people died here and seven thousand in the next valley.’ Austen looked up at the top of the cliff. What must it have been like up... there? If it was him, he would’ve rushed the guns and been shot or stabbed with bayonets. He’d have gone down fighting. But how many of these people had chosen to jump, maybe clutching their children to their chests? It was too horrific to think about. Hormuzd held a cloth over his nose and mouth. This wasn’t only about religion, Austen thought. He was sure of that. Why massacre so many people because their sabbath was on Wednesday, or because they didn’t pray facing the right direction?MoreLessRead More Read Less
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