[Waiting for 76 to catch up as he takes point, he almost starts walking when he notices something. It's a sight that's actually familiar. A single rifle leaning against a crate with its butt on the floor. It would have been a decent trap, but whoever left it there (probably the soldiers after them), rushed it. The pressure-release contraption against the wood of the gun had been dug into the mud, but they barely patted the ground around it, making the wire grid look ruffled.
He stretches an arm to stop 76.] They left traps, too. Clever bastards.
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He stretches an arm to stop 76.] They left traps, too. Clever bastards.