Simon sat on fallen wet log a ways away from the camp. Far enough to enjoy some silence. A steaming mug of tea clutched between both her hands to try to siphon any heat she can out of it. Her breath creates a frost cloud and she watches it get blown away by the frosty wind.
She looks towards the camp trying to clear her mind. She's worried. Really worried. The team won't last the winter. Not that there is a point in making a distinction between the seasons this far north. But this 'winter' is extra harsh. Many of her soldiers have already fallen ill with pneumonia causing her to stretch out the supplies and antibiotics too thin for comfort. There won't be another supply trip reaching this far north in at least 3 months. She knows that if anyone else falls ill then they might die.
This is of course baring any encounter with the enemy. She knows the commander doesn't think there will be any, but Simon can't help but think of the worst. She doesn't argue because what would be the point. She's not in charge. If she was she definitely wouldn't let the camp set up fire signalling anyone close by their location. Her eyes trace the black smoke trailing up the sky.
We're just sitting ducks for them to hunt us down.
She counts the number of bandages and local anaesthetics that are left in case anything happens. She does this a lot. Counts in her head. The number of supplies available. The number of soldiers in her camp. The number of days since she's last seen her family.
Simon was an older sister to a young brother. He went into the business of weaponry and advertisement. That boy could talk his way into anything, she fondly thinks.
Her parents were too old to train for the war and remained in near the main city to this day. She had her last decent meal there exactly 260 days ago. She joined this camp earlier this year after a tearful goodbye and much begging from her parents. Not many people know why. There is plenty of work for a new graduate medical student in the main city. Her parents couldn't fathom why, but she knew. As she stared towards the camp, she knew why she was here.
As she continued to stare towards the camp in contemplation she continues to trace the black fire smoke. It looked a little bigger. She squints a little harder as the feeling of dread spreads in her chest. It’s paralysing. There are now multiple smoke trails. As she focuses she notices fast movement. She hears gunshot.
She feels for her gun in the tools belt as she gets up from the log. She doesn’t even take a step towards the camp before she feels sudden pain burst from the back of her head. Then she blacks out.
Hours later the only thing left is a trial of a dragged body in the snow and a fallen cup of tea, not steaming hot anymore.