As I awoke, I knew my mind was made up. I would deliver her as a prisoner of war to the Commonwealth. This was the best course of action. Not only would this keep her out of the war, but it would also help the war since it would keep a mage officer off the field, and mage officers were rarer than gold already. I'm sure the empire considered them rarer.
Remembering the direction from the night before, along with the note in the snow I made. I sat up and checked on the colonel; she was still asleep. I then put the back of my hand to check her temperature. She was definitely running a fever. This made the situation worse. I needed to get her to the proper care, and with supplies, I could only care for a few more days, and an illness could mean more issues.
I carefully arose, not disturbing the colonel, and began packing up the makeshift camp, getting the jewels from the tree and pocketing them. I used my rifle as the basis for a stretcher and some of the sticks for the other stretcher support. As I packed her and my stuff, I realized I would likely not get far, but it wasn't too bad since we were probably only a few miles out.
Finishing our departure preparations, I made breakfast with the little available food. I was able to find a bit more than the can of meat. Turns out it was a stew in a can. Horrible as it may be, it's better than nothing. I also had some bits of cheese and some crackers. Then, with what she was carrying, I found a bar of chocolate and some rather dreadful bread.
Getting my mess tin, I poured the contents of the soup into a can and added some extra water to make it a bit more filling. As well as put some bits of crackers into the soup to soften the cracker. The bread was about as hard as a brick, and the weather made it impossible to cut, so I left it alone. Though it was not the most pleasing thing, knowing I couldn't eat it was a bit maddening.
It was more important for her to eat than it was for me. The fact I hadn't had anything to eat in the past two days except for a cup of coffee was having its effects. With hunger setting in and the smell getting to me, I focused on drinking water. I could always go to lose a few pounds, but I feel there are better ways that are not starving. As I was getting breakfast done, the colonel began to wake.
She was clearly in pain, which was expected due to her injuries and the adrenaline coming down. Sadly, it means I would need to start giving her doses of morphine. I didn't have many, so there would get to a point where there would be nothing I could do for the pain, and while effective, they are highly addictive, especially for one rather young.
Luckily, I knew the dosage for children but then came the issue that she is a mage. That created an issue since mages needed more of everything from food to medicine. Without their destructive power, I'm sure countries would be rid of them due to high maintenance. Due to that, her dosage would need to be more than that of a child her age but most likely less than that of an adult.
Damn it, I hate Mage's metabolism and physiology. Like all things of magical knowledge, it is still a new field and always has exceptions. What works for one mage might not work for another. Child mages have been completely ignored since most don't find out they're mages for a chunk of their lives. They tend not to get studied due to the young mages not going to hospitals since their fast healing speeds heal most injuries.
Maybe after the war, I should pursue a medicinal degree specializing in child mages. It is best to finish college at the local state school. Probably should have finished before going off to war. Gonna be weird going back after this. Shouldn't dwell on it not the proper thing to do.
"Guten Morgen," The young officer said, wincing at the end. I may not know Imperial, but that is a simple good morning.
"Morning, Tanya, Breakfast, Bandage and Medicine?" I asked, to which she simply nodded to the order of things I suggested.
I handed her what breakfast was for her, and she then took a moment before looking at me.
"Wo ist dein Essen?" She asked, pointing at her food and then to me.
"You need it more," I said, shaking my head and signing for her to eat. After a moment, she began to eat and seemed to enjoy it.
"Das ist besser als das, was ich normalerweise esse. Ich habe schon lange keine gute Mahlzeit mehr gegessen, und obwohl das schlecht ist, ist es immer noch besser als K-Brot." She said between bites.
"You got a better stomach than most the lads, but glad you enjoy it," I said, confused as to what the hell she had said, but she seemed to like it, which is good. The last thing I wanted to do was force it down her throat, and getting this slop down some guys is hard enough. I can't imagine a mage.
I got ready to check and clean her wounds as she finished her meal. I sanitized my tools with the fire and warmed up some water. This wasn't gonna be pleasant for her, so I made sure to widdle a stick for her to bite into. I would do another check on her to see if there were any other issues I overlooked. The most difficult will be the abdomen.
That bullet is still in there, and I can't remove it as long as it isn't causing serious continued damage. Even then, it is best to have someone else with better training. She leaned back to drink the remaining parts of the soup and handed my tin back. I simply make a zipping motion. At which point she unzipped her coat. I took out her arm from her sling and began to unwrap the bandages.
As I continued to unwrap, she would occasionally wince and breathe rapidly. After removing the bandages, I cleaned the wound, pouring warm water on the wound. And wiping the dried blood away. As I did this, I thought of an Idea. I grabbed my pad and wrote to distract herself by talking no matter what it was. She nodded and began speaking.
"Das, worüber ich gestern gesprochen habe, war, dass er als X ein selbsternannter Gott ist, der mich bekehren will, indem er …" She proceded to rattle off.
Now that she was distracted, I could finish cleaning it without as much hissing and awkward silence, which I preferred, especially since I normally hear gunshots over my head doing this. With the old bandage removed and the new one on, I wrapped the arm and placed it back in the sling. I then put my hand on her shoulder, leaned her back, and motioned that I was going to check on her abdominal wound.
She nodded as I began to unbutton her tunic. She seemed to be a little embarrassed as her face became bright red. This is not the first time something like this has happened. Some other commonwealth soldiers are not exactly good with hygiene, and some of the Russy women are glad to have allies, which has led to not-so-fun examinations.
Still, as I unbutton, I try to keep some modesty by unbuttoning the tunic and the lower parts of her undershirt to avoid exposing her upper chest. The wound was still a bloody mess at first glance, but it seemed good as I removed the bandage and cleaned it with warm water. Surprisingly, it seemed a bullet fragment got caught in the bandage.
Damn it. I wrote on the pad that I would have to try to remove the bullet fragments since it meant it broke off, which could cause later damage. She looked worried, which was expected since I would be doing a basic surgery. I grabbed the morphine I had and did a basic mimic of it by pinching myself and overreacting, which got a chuckle from her, then pretending to inject myself with the needle and pinching with no reaction.
She nodded and let me inject the morphine into her. While I waited for it to take effect, I handed her the piece of wood to bite on. Luckily, I had some tweezers that I carried due to the frequency of shrapnel in the trenches. I washed my hands and moved my stuff closer. I also borrowed her scarf to wrap around my face and forehead. I then washed the wound again with warm water and a rag.
I then placed her good hand on my thigh and told her to squeeze when it hurts by pointing to her, saying ow, then using my hand over hers to squeeze my thigh, at which point I stopped saying ow and stopped squeezing. She nodded in understanding but seemed to have a tear in her eye, as she was obviously worried about what was to happen.
I began sticking my tweezers in and carefully feeling for bullet fragments. Throughout the procedure, I felt some squeezes on my thigh. There were a lot of grunts, muffled screams, and a few sniffles from her, but she held still. I found a few pieces but nothing major till I got to the problem at the bottom. By this point, the morphine had kicked in, and I could carefully remove the fragment.
When I got it out, I got most of the fragments. Still, I was unsure, and after making one last attempt to find fragments, I finished cleaning the wound the best I could and finished with another jab of morphine and put a new bandage on it. With That done, I buttoned up her shirt tunic and zipped up her flight suit. The splint on her leg was doing well. I added a few more supports and tightened it a bit more.
Luckily, the bones did not break the skin, so there were fewer issues than they could have. Next, I checked her scalp; seeing that I was correct that it was a small scratch that had already begun healing, I washed the wound and then dried the area.
"Verdammt, X zu sein" She said spitting the bite stick I had given her.
"I think it's time to head out," I said, finishing packing up and loading her to the makeshift stretcher.
"Are you taking me prisoner?" She wrote on the notepad, handing it to me.
I shook my head, "Yeah," I sighed.
She sat in thought as I put her helmet on her head. I attached the end of the stretcher to my belt and suspenders to free my hands, and then an interesting idea popped into my head with a few adjustments. I had her on my back, like giving her a piggyback ride. We then began heading east towards the Commonwealth and Russy line. After a while, she handed me another note on the pad.
"You never did answer why you saved me and are putting this much effort for an enemy soldier?" She wrote.
"As soon as you tell me why a young girl is fighting, Don't you have someone to keep you like a parent," I wrote back.
"I am an orphan; I have no one in war. No one cares for an orphan girl crying in the ruins of a city, especially one whose parents died long before the war. There is no sad story of the war that makes them stand out, and by the time this war is over, truly over, I would have less than those who lost someone in the family. They would have something such as connection, inheritance, others that have had similar experiences to comfort, distant relatives, schooling, knowledge of a trade, or anything. To have something for when I turn of age, I need to use what little I have and use it. I hoped to be put in the rear lines if I showed potential. Sadly, I showed too much potential, and thus, they sent me where they thought I would be best. It just so happens to be the front lines. She wrote in surprisingly small, legible handwriting.
"You're not entirely right," I wrote.
"How so?" She responded.
"I'd care about an orphan girl crying in the ruins of a city," I wrote and smiled when she looked up, confused after reading it.
"You are the exception."
"What am I doing now?" I wrote back.
"And why are you doing it?" She wrote underling the word Why.
I figured she would keep poking at this, and with what she has confided in me, I figured it would be best to come clean.
"Because it's the right thing to do." I Wrote.
"Is that the real reason?" She wrote.
"Your reason is to secure a future. My reason is to secure futures for others."
"Fair," She wrote.
We continued on in silence for about an hour afterward. I was sick of the silence, so I started whistling a song. It was Colonel Bogey March, a simple tune that kept spirits up. To my surprise, she started whistling along. We whistled the tune for a bit as we continued on. Suddenly, a wizz came over my head, causing me to drop into the snow, and I removed the stretcher from my suspenders. Tanya made a grunt of pain with a sudden movement. I then grab my gun and try looking around for who shot. After a moment, another wizz came by.
"Stop shooting. I'm a medic, for Christ's sake." I yelled, hoping it would stop.
"Oh, Английский medic". The voice said in a thick, russy accent.
Then, a man in a Federation uniform was seen walking towards me. I slowly stood up, put my gun away, and checked on Tanya, who nodded that she was okay.
"What the hell is wrong with you? Why did you shoot at me?" I asked, angered.
"I thought you were imperial," He said, not seeing the issue.
"Doesn't matter how far are we from our lines?" I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"Not far, who this?" he asked, pointing his gun at Tanya, who seemed to be terrified at the man and attempting to hide her face.
"A prisoner, A mage I found after she was shot down," I said, moving his gun away from her.
"She looks familiar." the man said. "What is her name."
"Uh… Lieutenant Colonel Tanya Degurechaff, I think she said," I responded, curious as to why he wanted to know.
"This is my prisoner now," he said, reaching for the stretcher.
I smacked his hand away.
"No, she is not. I found her and tended to her wounds. She is my prisoner," I said, pointing my finger at him.
"No, she attacked Moskva. She is most wanted imperial," he said, smacking my hand away.
"I don't care what she did. She is my prisoner, and I won't hand her over to the Russys," I said, smacking his hand.
"If I turn her in, I get promoted." He said.
"What the hell does that have to do with anything," I said.
"It means I will do anything to get her. Comrade Loria is offering anything for her." He said, raising his rifle.
"I don't care. She is mine," I said, raising my gun.
Here we are, two soldiers fighting over a prisoner, ready to kill another on our side for selfish reasons, whether it is to be promoted or not to feel guilt. Who will be the first to break an already unsteady treaty? Who will kill for the glory where there is none to be had?