The Salve of Freedom

Chapter II. - part one

Milka ignored Drahush's horrified gasp when she finally noticed the man lying under the trees. Instead, she ran to the body. She kneeled next to him and started to look for signs of life.

He was dressed in trousers and a shirt under a nice warm coat covering his body from his neck to his knees. His arms were covered in woollen mittens. Milka did not try to find his pulse. His body had to be frozen so even his pulse would be weak and hard to find. Instead, she leaned above his mouth and rested her hand on his chest, trying to find out if he was breathing.

It took several long seconds, but his shallow breath whispered on her cheeks.

"He is alive," she muttered gratefully. Next, using just eyes, she searched his body for an injury. Since she couldn't see anything wrong, she took hold of his head and carefully started to turn it to check for injuries. He was deadly white, but that was all.

She started to think the cold got him when she noticed snow under his shoulder. It was crimson red. She dropped his head and lightly touched his shoulder. The front side seemed fine, but when her fingers found his back, she immediately discovered the problem.

Stab wound. Someone stabbed him.

"Drahush, I need you to call for others. We need to transport him back to the village. I cannot do anything for him here."

When she looked up to see her friend, she was surprised to find her frowning.

"Drahush! We must hurry!"

Her friend blinked slowly. "Milka," she started. "His uniform."

Milka turned to her patient again. His uniform. When she stopped looking for his injuries, she could see the reason why her friend was so slow to take action. The warm coat was part of an army uniform. A uniform that did not belong to the United Army of Settlements.

The man, the soldier in front of her, was an enemy.

Milka did not think about herself as a person with enemies. She was a member of a smaller settlement in a peaceful country. One of the reasons they were so peaceful was that they did not have any central government—nobody whose interest they had to fight for and nobody who would provoke other countries.

However, other countries did not follow their example. They had kings, generals and leaders who were unpredictable and greedy. That was the reason why the United Army of Settlement was founded. Their only goal was the protection of outside borders to allow settlements to live in peace.

The soldier in front of her was living proof that their army failed. He should not be here.

She had heard whispers. Everybody had heard them. But she thought they were just the usual gossip of small settlements. She did not even suspect there was a grain of truth about the rumour that a foreign country crossed the borders.

Yet, the foreigner was proof. The first foreigner Milka had ever met. He did not look much different than her. Yes, his skin was a bit darker, and his face was structured a little differently, but he still had two eyes, two arms and two legs. His blood was red, and he needed air to survive. He was also wounded.

He was weak and quickly losing his life. He needed her help. Who was she, if not a person who healed?

"Call the others. We need to help him," she ordered Drahush.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Hearing those words, Milka looked up from the injured to her pale friend, who could not stop shaking her head. "Our settlement is a safe haven. If you take him in, it could change very quickly."