Screams pulled me away from complacency as the light greeted my eyes in painful slits. I opened them, trembling. I ignored the pain in my back and shoulder as I stepped around men lying on the floor. They were everywhere.

“Jill?” I called.

I emerged from the tent, not realizing how stale the air was until I breathed in the cool, damp outside air.

“Where is Jill?” I yelled.

A group of soldiers stared at me warily. I stormed over to them.

“There is a woman here. Her name is Jill. She was wounded. Have you seen her?”

None of them would answer. Anger filled my insides and I grabbed the collar of the youngest Colonial.

“We do not know who you are talking about, redcoat,” snarled a much older man next to me.

All I could do was gape at them. I had given myself away quicker than any regular fool. They would drag me away and hang me as a spy before I could ever find Jill.

“He is a deserter!” bellowed a commanding voice.

All eyes within earshot went to a man wearing a crimson-stained apron. A surgeon.

“I heard you asking for a woman soldier. She is in my tent.”

“How is she? Let me see her!”

The doctor nodded once before turning toward a small log house that I had not noticed before. I followed him on shaking legs. I saw Jill across the sea of the maimed on one of three wooden tables. My heart lurched as I sunk to my knees. I felt the doctor’s presence loom behind me.

“An amputation would finish her,” he said.

I stood as rage and panic fuelled me. “Surely something can be done!”

The doctor’s tired eyes stared at the ground. “You can sit with her.”

I found my footing and weaved through the maze of moaning men until I reached her side. Sweat laced her forehead. I wanted to kiss her angelic lips, but I feared waking her. She needed rest so we could finish our adventure together. 

(Photo by Dids from Pexels)