All hush hush, I made my way up to Kaytlinn’s bench. She was making an attempt at averting her gaze from me, either to give herself time to try and put her jumbled up thoughts into speech, or just simply thinking about how to approach the situation. I, alas, had already decided what my next move was going to be.

“I’m sorry Ansel, but I don’t believe you’re in your right mind.”

Yet, before I can speak, her unexpected sentence hits me hard enough to cause whiplash.

I turn my head instinctively towards her direction, furrowing my brows inwards to the point that I could feel their muscles stress, as my mouth opens agape in slight stupor at her words.

Honestly didn’t know what I was expecting her to say to me—her stuttery stressed out attitude trying to give a reasoning behind her decision, or maybe an overly explained apology, but definitely not her doubling down.

Kate’s stare then locks onto mine, that tired looks of hers visibly unshaken, still underlined by the substantial eyebags.

“...Right.” I manage to muster up, blinking for a full two seconds, completely befuddled, getting stripped of the clarity I had as I try to regain my composure.

She then continues.

“You don’t want to end up in the ward, I get it. I wouldn’t want to either. Especially because of how troops with Nyzcki’s disease are treated. You have your pride and all that.”

Nyzcki’s. I remember. The story of the old veteran soldier who never truly left the battlefield behind, even after coming home to his loving wife. Fitting name for fighters whose war changed them into husks of their former selves, men that even in times of peace will hold on tight to their bedside daggers.

The name, of course, is only a cruelly ironic joke. While healers and scholars alike use scientific names to describe illnesses of the mind, none quite stick to the average person as the relatable story of little old Nyzcki.

“Sorry, are you the same Kaytlinn that was crying just a moment ago?” I inquired, genuinely confused at her seemingly sudden change of personality.

“Because I’m that Kaytlinn—” She looks away from me, now her eyes wandering around the people of the outpost. “I can’t let you out there again.”

Kate leans forward, hanging her head slightly down, her arms resting crossed on top of her knees.

“I thank the Gods you’re still in one piece, but this is where divine intervention ends and your trauma becomes a problem only a medic can help with. I know you don’t want to see yourself grow old inside a room full of doctors, ones that will treat you like you’re mad for the rest of your life.”

Her head turns back to face me.

“I apologize for trying to rid myself of you. I just didn’t—” She stops herself mid-sentence, her voice shifting in a more defeated tone. “Don’t have the strength necessary to see you in this state.”

“But I’m guessing you won’t let me leave like this either.” I reply, mildly irritated.

“Yes. I won’t allow you on your own, but I see now that a decision like this holds responsibility.”

“Then… what? What’s your plan?”

“Ansel.” She straightens her back, looking at me with a face full of conviction, lowering her voice. “Let’s go back. To Andonia.”

Before I can process what Kaytlinn just said, she explains. “There’s nothing worth fighting for here, we both lost too much to this war, I don’t want us to lose each other too.”

As she finishes her thought, her eyes are locked on me, expectant of an answer.

“...But, what about your duty? I-I mean our duty.” I quickly correct myself, trying not to let my true intentions slip up.

“You’re proposing desertion. The Raspelian laws are—” Again, I catch myself before revealing anything that could be mistaken—or rather, correctly deduced—as negativity towards the crown.

“Well, they’re very clear about desertion. Wasn’t your entire reason for studying at the Andonian university to become a field doctor and save lives?”

“It was.” She firmly replies. “But that was years ago, things have changed since then.”

“You don’t like being a doctor anymore?”

Her gaze finally breaks away from mine, as she looks back at the view in front of her, as if reminiscing about something.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“That’s a tale for another time.”

Then, we sat in quietude for a while.

I thought about what had been said between the two of us for a moment. The conversation went in a direction I didn’t predict.

Kate was not how my memories recalled her, she had grown bold, bitter. A few years as a frontline medic had seemingly changed her, yet if for better or worse, that I did not know. Perhaps I had misjudged her.

“To be entirely honest with you.” I say, breaking the silence between us. “When I walked here, I wanted to apologize for having lashed out at you. I thought you were the old Kaytlinn, the one I remembered being highly emotional, but also pure, always ready to help someone in need.”

Another memory flashes before my eyes.

I remember arriving in Andonia, when I first became an orphan after what happened to my village. I walked all the way on foot. At the time, I knew which path to follow because my mom would send me on errands every once in a while.

After making it to the gates of the city, the blood of the slaughtered on my shirt had already dried out.

There were no guards to welcome me—in fact, the entire town seemed to be engulfed in chaos, but at the time I didn’t care enough to understand the situation.

Only one woman in the midst of everything noticed me. She looked not much older than me, with a beautifully crafted medical satchel hanging from her shoulder, spotless, almost as if it was standing proud of its own inexperience.

The lady stopped in her tracks, masking her own stress with an awkward smile, making a poor attempt at calming down a child she had just met amidst the mayhem.

“A-Are you hurt?” She said, kneeling down to my level, grabbing me by the shoulders with trembling hands and moving me around every which way to check if I was all right. In her own panic, she failed to see that I had been standing motionless the entire time, gazing past her at the people running in the background.

“Hey! W-What’s your name buddy?”

She positioned herself in front of me, forcing me to notice her. My vision started to focus again, intently analyzing her facial features.

As if a small crack appeared on a massive dam, the thoughts trickled back into my brain, then—with overwhelming force—flooded into every little nook, cranny and crevice. I had been in a mindless trance up to that point, my brain trying to protect me from what I had just gone through while guiding its own body like a marionette, now ultimately letting loose all those pent up emotions.

My eyes widened, then a tear, and then another. Before long I was completely sobbing, crying my eyes out, incoherently rambling about something, not even knowing what.

“No! No! Don’t cry!” The lady shook me like a broken toy, emotionally unprepared to deal with my outburst.

“It’s okay!” She clumsily threw her arms around me, trying to hug me, not too tight, unnerved by the blood I had on me, like she was being careful not to catch a disease from me.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” She kept repeating, over and over again. To this day, I still don’t know which one of us she was trying to comfort with those words.

The memory then fades, and I come back to the present.

“But you’re definitely not that lady anymore.” I finish my sentence, long overdue.

“Huh.” Kate scoffs. “Should I take it as a compliment?” She says, cracking a smile.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” I smile back for a short moment. “Or maybe we’ve just both lost that kind of innocence now, stripped away against our wishes.”

I turn towards the outpost. My gaze tries to find whatever Kaytlinn was looking at when in deep thought during our conversation, but there’s nothing of interest to me, so I resign myself to just watching the birds on the horizon flap their wings. Strangely, I can't help but notice them flying towards us in flocks, as if something had disturbed them, but before losing myself in the insignificant details, I get my mind back on track.

With a knee slap and deep breath in, I continue.

“But as you said, a tale for another time.”

Shifting myself around on the bench, I turn towards Kaytlinn once again.

“I agree to these terms.” I say in a jokingly posh intonation. “On one condition.” I continue, raising my index finger, making sure she notices it.

The trap is laid down, and Kaytlinn bites.

“Sure, what is it?” She says, a small laugh escaping her.

My face becomes stern; my voice turns serious.

“I need to talk to the person who rescued me. I want confirmation on what I saw—or didn’t see, yesterday. For my peace of mind.”

Kaytlinn’s smile fades away, and she sighs.

“I guess. I don’t see why not, it shouldn't hurt to make sure. Trees with eyes in the heart of the desert would make quite the discovery if it turns out you were right.” She says, humoring me.

“Then, it’s agreed.”

I extend my hand forward. She reaches out, again hesitating to touch me, but ultimately squeezing it lightly.

“So, who is he? My rescuer?”

“Oh. I-I would have to ask around. I’m not sure—”

Kaytlinn pauses.

She turns her head towards the outpost again, looking up, eyes widening in surprise… or is it shock?

The sky turns gray, a vague shadow of something passing by her figure. Before I can look at what it is, however, she clenches her hand tight enough for me to feel pain, quickly jumping up from the bench and to the side, pulling me along with her in one strong motion. We both fall onto the ground cobblestone with a loud thump. Shortly after, I hear several dozen whistles coming from near us, all abruptly interrupted, as if smashing against something, or perhaps cutting into it.

I push myself up with my free hand, to give myself enough free space and look behind me. Lines of arrows, each single one half the size of me, all skewered into the walls of the hospital we just had our backs turned to.

Screams erupt from the workers. The clanking metal sounds of the guards’ heavy armors becomes louder. In the distance, a loud, deep horn can be heard.

I recognize it: the horn of battle. My muscles tense up.

The outpost is under attack.