Enemy guns now rolled on ground, with their carriages shattered. Without cover from their artillery, enemy marksmen routed with their ears laid back and tails between their legs, as volley after volley of fire from our infantry struck them. Sipahis, panting excitingly, charged after them to begin the slaughter. Winds were still, and air was full of smoky scent from burning grass and mugworts.

Scent of burning grass and mugworts....


When artillerymen were finally able to notice the stench of enemy horses, it was too late for them to flee.

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I still fail at drawing horses. I think I'll have to take more time observing them.