Peace is a rare blessing in the world. Everyone fights for something: for home, for riches, for clean water, for justice, for land, for power—even for peace. Skirmishes break out frequently as fellow-wanderers clash over one or another of these elusive goals. In the morning, a dispute over trade routes; in the afternoon, a tribe of aggressive nomads; in the evening, the transport of a dignitary; and in the dead of night—when all is at its darkest—the approach of marauders in the distance.
Where there are people, there is conflict. As breathing is essential to life, fighting seems inextricably intertwined with our destinies. Born on the ground, one rises to the skies and kills or is killed. That is the way.
Some parts of the world are hotbeds of combat, ringing with the sound of gunfire. When the gunshots fall away and the combatants retreat, victor and vanquished, all is quiet and still for the moment—until another contestant arrives.
