Tale of the Black Widow
an excerpt

While the screams of dying men rang out around them, the nurse’s only thought was on the wounded man lying on the palette in front of her. He winced in pain as she ministered as gently as possible to his wounds, grey hair dripping with sweat and grey uniform stained with blood. Some of it not his own, of course, since his rifle and sword lay discarded on the ground. The ever-growing spot on his crisp, military shirt was, however.

Shouts were growing closer. The two lieutenants hovering over her as she worked looked alarmed. One, a young man, probably too young for the stripes on the uniform in peace time, leaned over and muttered to the other man. He, older and slightly greyer, ducked out of the tent for a brief moment before returning. He shook his head at the young lieutenant and knelt at the nurse’s side. “We have to move him. They’re coming.”

“Not yet. He wouldn’t make it to the edge of the battlefield. He is still losing blood too quickly, and the bullet is still lodged inside him.” She pulled the edges of torn, bloody shirt aside, trying to demonstrate to the uninitiated. “See? It’s almost visible.”

He scowled, looking more scared than angry. “IT doesn’t matter. They’re coming. I need to do what ever you all do and… fix him.” He gestured toward the outside. “Stabilize him, whatever you can do. They’re coming, and they won’t hesitate to kill anyone protecting the general.”

The nurse let out a hiss of air between her teeth and shook her head. “Move him outside then. Just a little, but on the ground. Don’t jar him.” The lieutenants exchanged glances. “Go on, a few steps won’t kill him.”

She pushed herself slowly to her feet and stepped out of the way for the officers. They moved in, each grabbing a side of the cot, and gently lifted the palette. The younger man’s eyes were wide. “Are you sure we should – if we take him out, they’ll be able to see him and maybe they’ll be able to target us..”

The older officer’s voice sounded gruff. “They’ll find us one way or another if he dies.”

“Carefully,” the nurse muttered. “Don’t jostle him.” She pulled back the tent flap for them to pass her, but the younger man still hesitated. The smells of the battlefield started to spread into the normally insulated tent, and the nurse shut herself off from the gunpowder and stale blood as she’d been taught.