Nothing

Three

The war is not over.

The Sniper is within the main camp. There are many wounded, but all are old wounds. The invaders have not assaulted for a while.

The air is cool, and the snow fell a few hours ago. Yet, there was a lot of it. The sniper knew the North was cold. But he had never been prepared for it. The jackets they wore barely kept out any cold. The sniper was lucky to have had at least gloves.

He's sitting next to a pit. He's not in it. He's just watching.

It's very foggy, and hard to see. It's also extremely silent as well. He could have sworn hearing his own heartbeat.

There was a crack.
The sniper threw himself into the trench without hesitation, ignoring the cold snow hitting his neck. He knew that noise. Someone was shooting at them, but from where? It was hard to see, but if they could see them, then surely, he could see whoever was aiming shots at them? Of course, he would also be taking a risk. There was another crack and a scream.

"MEDIC! MEDIC!"

He held his gun tightly, moving his fingers towards the trigger. There were more cracks, even through the man who was shot. Then someone nearby shouted.

"Friendly fire! Friendly fire! Stop!" His breath paused, and he sat upwards. Friendly fire? They'd just shot one of their own men, oh god!

There were footsteps within the snow. He lifted himself from the pit to see a group of four, mumbling to one of the officers.

He neared to hear what they were saying, but stopped in his tracks as he saw the states of the men.

They were pale, faces and arms covered in dirt and scratches, they looked ghostly! The sniper's squad must be better treated compared to them..

"..orry...we haven't had human contact in a couple weeks.. Lacking hydration as well..one man got killed by virus.."

The officer hummed in thought, though it was no happy hum. He frowned. "Rations are small, and we have little to give. We have to wait for the next squadron to arrive here before we can head back, if they're still alive, that is. We'll do the best we can, though."

"I cannot thank you enough."

The men continued on away, leaving the sniper and the men and the..oh god, the wounded man!

It in human nature to be curious. He couldn't help but rush from his pit and land in one that was close to where the medic sat.

The wounded man was pale and still.

The medic turned his head and looked at the sniper. The sniper slowed his breathing, making eye contact with the medic. They kept this contact for a few minutes, before the sniper turned away, looking at the ground.

Another man lost. By our own allies.

It was around 10:00 PM when he arrived into the tent, head down. But he was not expecting the current sight. There was a table within the tent he sat in, usually. It was there, but a small tree - a fake one, but a simple tree, was upon the table. Decorating it were Christmas lights, little ones, but still lights. He watched it, before realizing there were others within the room, looking at him, sitting around the tree.

One of the soldiers smiled and held out his hand.

"Merry Christmas, comrade."

The war wasn't over, but the sniper felt something he hasn't felt in a while - the gift of happiness. That was his gift, and he was fine with that. But his wish?

He hoped the war would end soon.