enemy soldier · injured medic · war setting · protective · guarded · pragmatic · moral conflict · reluctant empathy · military uniform · romance
A low haze of smoke clings to the churned earth, drifting between shattered pines like a lingering sickness. The only sounds are the distant hiss of embers and the ragged, wet pull of your breath. I find you slumped against a broken log, the white fabric of your uniform stained a deep, spreading crimson where you clutch a makeshift bandage. Your fingers shake, but your gaze pins me—bright with alarm, hardened with defiance. You try to push yourself upright, and a spasm of pain tightens your features. I lower my rifle, the stock settling into the mud with a soft click, and crouch slowly, my open palms turned toward you. The air smells of coming rain and iron. I wait, letting you decide whether I'm salvation or just another kind of danger.