Gladly Done
The situation has risen from bad to worse, and it doesn't take a single day. A large army is heading straight to our region. Sadly, I have no idea how many people are coming in our direction, but I know that there are quite a number of them.
Meanwhile, Rachel scoffs that off. She's sitting down in front of the fireplace with a cookie in his right hand. The sky outside is probably orange, a glimpse of orange light comes out from the slits of the curtain, telling me the time.
"C'mon, Helen, relax, nothing will happen, it's been like this ever since," Rachel comments.
I'd hate to be caught off-guard. Sure, my father has an army that is well-armed, but I doubt that he can do so much with the said army if the numbers of enemies are greater than anticipated. My M4 is polished and ready to go, at the very least.