Josephine

𝓔𝓹𝓲𝓼𝓸𝓭𝓮 42: 𝓑𝓾𝓼𝓱𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼 𝓘𝓷 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓣𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓼

October 04, 1973

North of Eastmain, Quebec Republic

The sounds of 2300 boots thundered throughout the northern forests of Quebec. I rode atop Valentine as we marched away from the town of Eastmain even farther north. The rebels were getting more persistent and violent. Or in my book: desperate. More and more of our men were dying every day. In fact, despite the battle at Eastmain having lasted all but two hours, well over two hundred men lay dead.

Also, it was cold-

Stupid cold.

The temperatures dropped day after day, now it struggled to surpass thirty-five, even on the sunniest of days. I knew this far north it was supposed to be cold, but the men hadn't expected... well this...

Despite the men having been refreshed at Eastmain, the rebels' tenacious efforts to either halt our advance north or kill us all has exhausted them beyond belief. Morale was at an all-time high at the battle in the past days, except it is steadily dropping, just like the temperature. Even my affirmations that we would defeat them weren't raising their moods.

We were on high alert, as the rebels were now using daring bushwhack tactics to whittle down our numbers to make large-scale battles easier on their ragged troops. Woodpeckers tapped their beaks on some of the tall spruce trees which climbed dozens of feet into the sky. It created a thick canopy over us, which was a breeding ground for rebel snares.

An owl hooted from a tree, to which several men flinched, aiming their guns at the tall, bony trees. They reluctantly lowered them, but the terrified looks in their eyes meant no matter what they knew at any moment they could be next-

BANG! BANG!

Two gunshots rang out in the empty forest, shattering the eerie silence. I turned back to see two more men fall to the ground, dead as doornails.

"AMBUSH!!!!" One of the soldiers screeched, "THEY'RE IN THE TREES!!!"

The men dove for cover into the brush and began firing their automatic weapons into the canopy and the branches, at the slightest sign of movement. This created quite the predicament for me as I was in the crosshairs of rebel riflemen.

"YOUR MAJESTY TAKE COVER!!!!"

Valentine reared into the air and it took all my physical willpower and strength to not go flying off and shatter my spinal cord.

"Whoa, girl hold on!" I called out soothingly, hoping, or praying that my tone would calm the spooked horse.

Luckily it worked and Valentine let me back in control. I rode her off out of the line of fire, at least I hoped. As I rounded back around, I saw dead rebels falling from the canopy and landing on the ground. I watched as the engagement steadily declined in violence, signaling the ambushees were declining in number simultaneously. Finally, the last Frenchman fell to the path dead. The men stopped shooting and I could hear the sighs of relief. Valentine trotted forward as the men raised out of the brush.

"How many?" I asked, discreetly referring to how many of our compatriots had died during the firefight.

A couple of men looked around. God no... God no! GOD NO!!!

"At least thirty-maybe forty your majesty... this was one of the worst ones yet,"

I just wanted to scream and cry. Beg the Lord for mercy, and say that those men were injured. But deep down, no matter how much I wanted to deny it, they were gone. The men began to organize and prepare to march again, they were busy enough where nobody, I included, heard the click from somewhere nearby. I rode Valentine to the front of the column that had been poorly reassembled.

"Vardar what are you doing? Common!" One of the men called out.

There was no response. I turned Valentine around and she trotted past the regiments of soldiers as I arrived around back. A couple of men surrounded another, who stared at the ground, silent, motionless.

"Vardar? What is going on?" One of them asked.

Nothing at all.

"Corporal Vardar, what is this?" I demanded as I rode up next to him.

Finally, Vardar looked up, his face stained with tears, cheeks blotchy red, his lips curled and he bit them.

"Far-" I started before he interjected me.

Not verbally, but physically by glancing between me and his foot. Confused, I looked to the ground, where a partially exposed landmine lay.

Vardar's foot was firmly planted on it. Holy sweet mother of Jesus.

"Oh god, Vardar-" One of them began before he now verbally interrupted.

"Go. All of you go..." He choked out.

"I refuse to do that," I said firmly, "No man left behind after all-"

"Now! That's my final wish!" He said.

He wasn't budging, and as much as I knew I didn't want to leave one of my soldiers's behind... who knows how much gunpowder is packed into that thing. That could blow me, and at least forty more men sky high. A tear rolled down my cheek as I knew what I had to do. But I didn't know if I had the strength to do it.

"Your majesty, if you get out of here, alive, tell my wife and son I love them okay?"

I nodded but that didn't satisfy the man with a literal death sentence.

"No, say it, I need you to promise me, that you'll tell them okay!" He charged his words.

"I promise Vardar," I replied, my voice cracking.

"...Good..."

I nodded to the soldiers, who quickly joined their comrades in their ranks. I turned and rode back to the front where I kept moving, and my army followed after me. The sounds of 2200 boots thundering across the forest floor filled my ears.

Five minutes later, when we were half a mile away-

Boom.

The tears began to fall in droves, drenching my face as I sobbed, not caring that the men saw as well. Then a small white speck landed on my knee, followed by another and another, and I soon realized:

It was the first snow.