I couldn’t feel my legs and I wasn’t sure where they went. Everything from my knees and down just felt numb.

There was a ringing in my ears as well, a sound echoing through my skull as if a hammer were beating against it from the inside. My head pounded against that noise, the two sensations ricocheting against each other as it deafened the gunfire and shouting that shot in every direction around me.

Dirt had sprayed into my eyes, each particle like a tiny insect trying to infest every crevice under my eyelids. I tried rubbing it out with my arm, removing just enough to be able to open my eyes again, but the world still appeared a murky blur of mud. I couldn’t tell if it was from the dust cloud still lingering around me or just my foggy vision.

Of course, those bombs always had to land near me as if being in the middle of war wasn't hard enough. But this time, it landed far too close for comfort.

Without delaying any longer, I pressed my hands and knees hard against the ground before pushing myself upwards, trying to stand. But my limbs were weak and couldn’t handle the weight of my body as I collapsed back down. My chest fell to the ground with a loud thud as the side of my face collided with the earth.

Something was wrong.

That numbness in my legs had now contorted into an excruciating pain. Every nerve in those limbs became a screeching symphony that bled into the ringing and pounding still raging in my head. My mind felt as if it were about to explode under all that noise.

But as always, pain was just an inconvenience. There was no time to dally on it if I didn’t want another bomb blowing my head off next. Then again, if that happened, at least the ringing would stop for a little while.

Without wasting another second, I dug my fingers deep into the earth. Dirt filled every nook under my fingernails and even the ridges along my palm. I ignored the exposed flesh on my hands and arms. The skin was pealing as a layer of dust lingered on the surface, merging into the open wounds. I held my rifle close to my body, gripping it hard with my spare arm, before I began to drag my body forward along the ground.

Every rigid stone, twig or bullet casing left rogue on the soil dug into my body as I hauled myself across the battlefield. My uniform was becoming increasingly wet, dragging me down heavier against the earth. I was unsure if it was just from the muddy puddles or my own blood. I didn’t look down to check.

But amidst the hail of gunfire, I could hear a faint ruffling to my right. I grasped my rifle with both hands, snapping my head towards the direction of the sound. With barely a second to even register what it was, I aimed and then fired. The bullet sliced through the air, piercing through a soldier’s head. He fell limp to the ground, his gun falling out of his hands.

I didn’t linger on him for long. My eyes flickered in every direction around me, searching for anyone else nearby. There weren’t any. I took a deep and heavy breath, trying to steady the adrenaline coursing through my veins, before digging my fingers back into the ground. I kept my eyes up, searching for anyone else nearby or even anywhere I could get out of the line of fire. All I needed was just a few moments to recover and I’d be fine again.

Ahead of me, the ground seemed to cave downwards with pieces of wood and barbed wiring planted around it. It was the trenches and the best safety I could get on that battlefield. I grasped again at the ground, pulling myself forward even harder. But since I was only using one arm, the pace felt torturous.

When I finally got within arm's reach, my fingers gripped at the edge of the winding ditch. I dug my knees into the ground and pulled myself over the edge, falling into it. My body hit the bottom of the ditch hard as my arm, still holding my rifle, slammed against the ground. But my head fell against something softer, something more alive.

Damn me.

I quickly shoved myself away from him. My hands found their place on my rifle. My finger was already on the trigger as I pointed it at him. I was about to shoot, but he was already lying there lifelessly. His eyes were still wide open, and yet unable to move.

I shifted my focus from him, scanning around me and across body after body of soldiers just lying there in piles on top of each other. They were soaking in puddles of their own blood. While their company wasn't preferred, the walls of this section of the trenches seemed tall enough to stand without being seen. That was good enough for now.

My shoulders relaxed slightly as I began to lower my gun. That was until the sound of someone shuffling against the ground nearby reached my ears. I whipped my head towards them, my eyes narrowing and my finger already halfway down on the trigger.

“Wait, don’t shoot!”

I stopped as my eyes snapped towards the source of that voice. There was a pair of eyes staring back at me. They looked weak. One of his hands was raised while the other was pressed down against his abdomen. Blood was seeping through his uniform just under where he was applying pressure, staining his hand.

His uniform was also muddied with patches of blood scattered across it. His uniform was noticeably a dull and dark green colour, just like every other soldier down here. Mine, however, was a muted blue.

Blood was running down from his forehead, mixing with the dirt and sweat also on his face. It soaked into his blonde hair that fell against his forehead. His breathing was laboured and uneasy, coming out in heavy bursts. He could barely keep his eyes open as he stared at me.

My grip tightened around my rifle, but I could already tell he was close to death. Killing him now would be easy, but there was no use wasting a bullet on a dead man.

“Your gun,” I said, my voice hardening as my eyes shifted downwards towards a sidearm I noticed was held along his belt.

He looked down, seeing what I was looking at, before turning back to me with a sigh. “Look, I’m not going to shoot you—”

“Your gun, sir,” I repeated, firmer that time. I didn’t waver as I kept the rifle aimed at his head.

His face hardened, his breathing still slow and heavy, but he weakly brought his hand down to take the gun out of his holster. He threw it to the side, far out of arms reach from the both of us.

“There. You happy?” he asked, but his words came out strained through every breath as he looked back at me.

I continued to stare at him for a moment, searching him up and down for any other weapon. But he was fully unarmed, practically a sitting duck waiting to be shot. I finally lowered my gun, letting it rest against my lap. I let out a heavy sigh as I leaned my head back against the dirt wall, but my eyes didn’t leave the man in front of me.

His skin was pale, absent of any sort of colour or warmth under the darkened grey sky above us. The only part of him that didn’t seem fully dulled was his bright blue eyes that peaked out from under the rogue strands of blonde hair that fell from his helmet.

“You’re a Candeurian soldier, aren’t you?” he asked, glancing down at my uniform. Even though I’d lowered my gun, the apprehension in his eyes hadn’t wavered at all.

“I fight for them,” I said, barely paying much attention to him anymore as I scanned my surroundings, weary of anything that might’ve been moving behind the curved walls of the trench.

“You must be a bad soldier then if you’re letting me live like this.”

“I can still shoot you if you’d prefer.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll pass,” he said, his voice still strained as he eyed me weakly. “It might make you a bad soldier, but at least you’re a decent person.”

My eyes shifted back to him, narrowing as my grip around my rifle tightened. That blood loss must’ve been making him delirious now.

“I didn’t want to waste a bullet.”

He let out a small scoff, a glint of amusement flickering in his eyes for just a moment. But he immediately winced, taking a sharp breath as he clenched his jaw. He pressed his hand down harder against his abdomen, trying to suppress the bleeding.

“It was a bad idea to laugh.”