It was cold. The snow that blanketed the ground had forced everything into an icy numbness.
The scrubs room was an ice box. Hands shook, teeth chattered as the freezing water splashed out over the rim of the sink and made spreading circles across the floor, abandoned to be wiped up after the deluge. After the blood and the pain were stayed for a few blessed hours and life continued until the next shift of soldiers fought over a hill in the bite of December.
The OR was as cold as the rest of the camp. The metal instruments chilled fingers through the gloves. All was cold, the surgeons, the nurses, the frost-bitten patients.
Except the blood. The blood was always warm.