The Vermillion Garden

Chapter Seven

She sat poised upon a creaking stool, rags draped limply in her hands as her lips drew into a frown. Across from her sat another nurse, her eyebrows knitted together as she scribbled into a tattered pocketbook. Anona's eyes shifted away from the nurse and onto the soldier who was slumped comfortably in the bed, his face pale, and his hooded eyelids drooping.

She heaved a heavy breath and slowly reached out, gently closing his eyes. She always hated doing such a thing; closing a man's eyes. She pulled at the sheets which covered his body, letting the fabric gracefully fall over his face. Anona leaned back in her stool, raising her head to look out beyond the window before her. The sky, once a light gray, was now fading into hues of indigo and black, the buildings of Sage quickly silhouetting against the backdrop. She pursed her lips, her mind beginning to wrack with worry.

After having found and informed one of the military officers present, the Duchess and the messenger had wasted no time in stressing the importance of their possible impending situation. Thankfully enough, the military man had granted Jonathan clearance to travel to Camp Stewart with a message in hand while Anona remained behind, describing all that she saw to the military officers present before she was soon shooed away and left to return to her nursing duties.

She gripped the rag in her hands.

"Anona, could you please go and take these rags away?"

The raven-haired nurse turned her attention away from the window, her eyes falling upon her sister-in-nursing. She rose from her stool with a nod, pulling a small bucket along with her as she held her hand out, watching as the nurse offered her rags. Anona dumped the dirtied strips of cloth into the bucket and stole one final look to the bed before marching down the aisle of bedridden soldiers.

She clenched her jaw, wishing she could have been given a more satisfactory task. Cleaning the rags was boring and backbreaking work, not to mention scarring. The first time she found a dismembered toe lost in a pile of bloodied rags, she nearly fainted.

The Duchess continued on her way, her forehead wrinkling while she chewed on the inside of her cheek, keeping her eyes downcast while her mind ran rampant.

"Miss!"

She lifted her head, eyebrows raising as she immediately halted her stride, nearly tumbling forward in the process.

"Jonathan!" she gasped, a hand flying up to her nursing cap as she steadied herself.

The messenger chuckled.

"Lost in thought were we?" he asked, "For a moment, I almost thought you'd come crashing into me."

A wave of red spread across her cheeks and up to the tips of her ears.

"I'm so sorry." she mumbled, "But you're not wrong. I suppose I was lost in thought."

"Who isn't?" Jonathan sighed, "They're starting to worry out there."

"Worry?"

Jonathan's eyes shifted down to the bucket in her hands.

"We're not sure how many men from the Bloc could be coming our way." he shrugged his shoulders, "Not knowing is enough to cause some tension to build. But we've taken as many precautions as possible."

Anona leaned forward.

"They're that concerned?"

"Of course." Jonathan said, "But that simply comes with the job. For all we know, perhaps this turns to a false alarm."

The nurse huffed, taking a step forward.

"And then I would have wasted everyone's time with my anxieties."