Tom's POV.
The cold dry winter breeze made the dirty caramel hair brush gracefully up against one of the many dark purple and blue infected bruises surrounding his face, nose scrawled up in a pool full of overwhelming pain. Groans came trembling helplessly out of the bloody and cut up chapped lips, an over flowling pool of salty tears collecting at the bottom of his chin.
Kneeling down on the wet frosted grass, you reach out with your own freezing and trembling hand towards the red leader.
His dark red eyes quickly dart up at you, freezing in place. He cautiously backs away from you and decline in fear.
Where was Paul? Where was Patryk? If the red leader were to die it would be their fault. They were supposed to make sure he was fit and well. Not paralyzed bleeding out in the snow over night. Or had something happened?
You stand back up and dust your knees off looking down in pity. Oh, If only he would let you help him. Hmm...The snow crunched softly beneath your feet as you start to walk back towards your house, leaving the red leader to himself again.
...You stop in your tracks...
...No...
...You can't let him just die out here.
He is your leader, and all soilders must respect and care for him.
You're throwing respect out the window.
His pale face twitches but doesn't fight back, his body too sore and weak, as you pick him up bridal style off of the cold icy ground. Carefully you carry him inside your house, placing him safely down by the fire place...