Red-Cross and Redder Lips

I Thought Home Had More Love In it

   Carrying her own suitcase and Lenore's in both her hands, Amélie leads the blond off the train as she follows sleepily behind. "Girls! There you two are, I was worried sick!" a familiar voice chirps out from the group of nurses. Fernsan smiles warmly, though she looks much more tired and older now. She had been talking with the conductor and other higher people for the last two hours so it is expected to look a tad gray and worn dry. Len wakes up more and walks to her teacher to talk with her, but Amélie doesn't stop. Her eyes are dug into the tops of her dull boots as she walks through the mud. The rain had left tiny holes all over the top soil, and even though the sprinkling continues, she doesn't bother to grab a bonnet or umbrella. Ice cold rain dribbles down her neck and into her shirt, normally something that would send her shaking to get it away, but she hasn't the energy for that. She just wants to be home.
The building she approaches looks nicer than expected; the bricked outside is still sleek with rain but you can tell the outside has been made thicker just for the war. Instead of Poland where they had planned, they have stopped in north France, which means that Poland has truly fallen, and that Germany is on the move. The train had turned fully around and came back, but no one let them know. "Why would they keep this from us" escapes from her mouth as she tries to keep from pouting or stomping. She pushes through the doors numbly, but can't bring herself to look at the train anymore and just wants to be in her element as soon as she can be. A mans voice says something from behind her, but his what must be Romanian accent is much to thick for her to have understood it. She stops to face him and is relieved to see he is dressed in doctor's uniform and has badges and all, a real character compared to the women on the train who lost seemed more children than 'medics'. He speaks again, louder this time. "My apologies, you must be from the France front. I am doctor Tabak... you must be a new medic, yes?" he says slowly, his French not as good as others but still better than before. The light in the building is soft and yellow, the bulbs are old and there's a homey feel to it, and the boise she heard comes from a tall and older gentleman, closer to fifty than to youth. Since he's been raised by a firm generation, he looks strict, like a soldier or law official. She nods and clears her throat, standing up straighter and rising her chin as her eyes look over his casual attire and scraggly ginger beard, "yes, I am actually, the others are coming soon after me-and might I ask, where will we be bedded?" The man looks more gentle than before as he gestures her to follow him as he walks off, there's a slight bit of sadness in him. "Right this way, madam. It hurts me, such young faces out here, are there many?" The blond she rode here with comes to mind as she walks after him, the only thing to be heard now is rain and their shoes, the occasional plane or rumble in the distance. "...Yes." is all she says, and that is all that is needed for him to lower his shoulders.