Isn't it confusing, what first love does to a man?
Story where Alexine is Soldier Boy's first love and rekindle after many years apart.
[UNGOING]
[Warnings; smut, angst, torture, mention of torture, trauma, physical abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse...
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The respite in the cave was short-lived. The sounds of commotion and cries for help soon cut through the heavy silence, signaling that the wounded needed urgent care. The soldiers, despite their exhaustion, had no choice but to act. They were ordered to transport the injured to the civilian settlement just a mile from the site of the attack.
The process of carrying the wounded was both arduous and methodical. Soldiers and Muhjahideen worked together, lifting their injured comrades with grim determination. James "Jim" Carter, the lieutenant who had been shot in the shoulder, was among the most critical cases. His face was pale, his breathing shallow. They fashioned a makeshift stretcher from blankets and poles, carefully placing him on it and moving him with the utmost care. Every jostle and bump was met with muted groans of pain from the wounded, and the men's faces were etched with worry.
As they approached the settlement, the stark contrast between the battlefield and the civilian refuge became evident. The villagers, a resilient and stoic group, stood in front of their modest homes, their expressions a blend of concern and resolve. They had heard the distant rumble of the bomber, and the battle. They were ready and waiting, prepared to offer whatever help they could. Women and children, their faces marked by the hardships of life in the valley, stepped forward with blankets, water, and first aid supplies. Their homes, though humble, radiated a sense of community and support.
The men were guided to makeshift medical stations set up in several of the village homes. Each house seemed to offer a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos, with clean linens and a semblance of order. The villagers moved efficiently, their hands steady as they worked to tend to the injuries.
Among the villagers, a family emerged, their concern palpable. A woman, her face lined with years of resilience, ushered Soldier Boy inside with a mix of urgency and kindness. Her husband followed closely, carrying a pot of tea. Their young daughter, a small girl with wide, curious eyes, watched from the doorway.
The interior of their home was modest but warm. A low table was set with tea, and a simple cot was quickly prepared for Soldier Boy. The family's hospitality was evident in their every action. The woman offered Soldier Boy a cup of tea, her hands steady despite the chaos that had unfolded outside. The tea was a soothing balm, its warmth a small comfort against the stark cold of his recent experiences.
In this brief moment of calm, Soldier Boy felt a flicker of gratitude and solace. Here, in this small corner of the world, far from the battlefield's clamor, he was offered a glimpse of peace—a sanctuary in the midst of turmoil, where the kindness of strangers helped mend the wounds of both body and soul.
As Soldier Boy settled on one of the chairs at the table, his eyes scanned the modest room. The sight of the little girl and her family, despite their kindness, struck him with a pang of worry. He couldn't shake the thought that this girl, along with the other civilians, should be far from the dangers of the valley. Their presence here, was wrong.
