From the introduction: Pick a battlefield; one not so old that the world today would be utterly terrifying to the people who inhabited it, but one not so new that this world holds no mysteries for them. You have rested there, for many years; rested there, until you heard the drums. The sheepskin drums of the army call you back from your slumber, and you stand, no matter what terrible last memories you might have of the blow, or arrow, or explosion that struck you down; you are here, you are whole, you are hale. You're not even hungry.