I really don't like the way this one turned out. I write better on weekdays, I think. Maybe you'll like it, though?

3. Battlefield

She couldn't find him.

All around her were bodies, people injured and dead, and she couldn't find him.

What if he was among them? What if he was one of the bodies, lying on the ground haphazardly, taking shallow, labored breaths until even breathing was too much effort? Panic gripped her as the image of her commanding officer lying facedown in a pool of blood flashed across her mind. He couldn't be dead. He had to survive. He was her Colonel, her grounding force, her reason for being where she was today, her Roy.

"Colonel? Colonel!"

A moan escapes one of the bodies on the battlefield, followed by a tentative, "Lieutenant?" Her heart races as she turns in the direction the sound had come from.

He is face up, and the pool of blood isn't as big as she'd imagined in her mind, but he's clearly hurt. Someone, somehow, has gotten past his flame alchemy and landed an attack on him. It's his side, she can see as she gets closer- someone shot him in the side. She thanks every lucky star she has that the wound is as low down as it is- a wound like this didn't often kill.

"Sir, you're wounded," she says, for lack of anything better to say. Relief seeps into her voice. He's wounded- not dead.

He gives her the best glare he can muster up. "Obviously. Why else would I be lying on the ground like this? Help me get to the medical tent."

As she helps him off the battlefield, his arm thrown over her shoulder for support, she wishes for a time when it wouldn't take a bullet wound for her to walk beside him like this.

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