Shadows creep across the wall. As I focus, I recognize the forms of Jon and the surgeon. Sweat stings my eyes. I close them, wincing at the agonizing pain in my left leg. Flashbacks of cannons and terrorized faces haunt me and my eyelids flutter open only to see another nightmare.
The surgeon is standing over me now. I can see it in his eyes. I am going to die.
Jon rushes to my side, relieving my burning forehead with a cool, damp cloth. His free hand takes mine.
“You are so brave. I owe you my life,” he says.
He blinks and a tear slips down his muddy face.
“I owe you mine,” I say. “You rescued me from that depressing place and gave me an adventure.”
If Henry could see me now, he would probably disown me on the spot at the sight of his wife lying here in a bloody, sweaty mess dressed in men’s clothes. I smile at that.
“You are brave and beautiful. With that lovely orange hair,” Jon says, smiling.
“I want to finish our adventure,” I say. “Could you tell me how it will go on from here?”
Jon takes both of my hands in his. He tells me of a wonderful, eerie journey that we must complete once I am well. I close my eyes, relishing in his intelligent voice and in his warm hands that remind me that I am not alone.
He finishes the wonderful tale and tears blur my vision not from the terrible pain, but at the revelation of how much I am going miss him.
Then, everything fades.