Garvoche lay there, flat on his back, across the rubble that formed the base of the barricade. The shouts of everyone faded in and out of his small ears. If he wasn't so weak, the child would've put more energy into worrying about those sounds. Wind gently touched his hair, and to his surprise, he could barely feel it. A little wind couldn't hurt him now, after all. His blue eyes held only little life in them. The small fighter was losing his fight.
The tiny blond felt himself being lifted and carried, though to where he did not know. All he knew was that the floor he was laid on was hard and cold, and that someone was hovering over him. From the sounds, Garvoche knew that the man was crying. The child made himself a promise. He would not cry. No matter how much it hurt, and no matter how scared he was, Garvoche would not cry. He was a fighter, and a strong one at that. Strongest of his age, as he liked to believe.
"I see a woman." It was true. A pretty woman in white lingered in the corner. She had a gentle smile and disposition, and he knew that he must go to her. He would be safe with her. When he left his pain would stop. "She's an angel." His little voice cracked with pain. He licked his lips and continued.
"And I see our barricade. I'm waving the flag." the little one's voice was extremely weak now but extremely proud. It was barely a whisper in the wind. He started humming a broken and slow version of Do You Hear the People Sing. His blue eyes went as wide as they could with delight. A smile broke on his lips. He was shaking now. "And we are free to live!" With that he knew his time was up. The lady wanted him, and he wanted to go into the safe arms of the angel. It hurt to be here. Though Garvoche didn't want to leave Les Amis, he knew he would be no good to them any more. He belonged with the woman. His vision blurred. Breathing was too painful. The fighter allowed himself to stop and be taken into the woman's caring arms, to the land of freedom, the garden of the Lord.