Revolution of the Heart

We certainly had a surplus of supplies once we were done helping our fallen soldiers. I guess that even though we had lost the battle, but the British lost more men than us. So in the end, Williams influenced whoever was in charge to let us help the British who had been left behind. So we had to walk back onto the battlefield, in which the number of the dying had decreased, but the number of dead increased. It was an awful sight; bodies were strewn about. It was quite difficult to tell the living from the dead. But now and then one would move or groan or sigh, and we would be able to administer some form of aide. We were just finishing up when I had just made a tourniquet for a boy no older than fifteen when from the corner of my eye; I saw a body flinch so slightly. At first I thought it was just my eyes playing tricks on me, but the body groaned. I motioned for a nearby nurse to take the boy away and made my way to the body. My first thought was that it belonged to a stunningly handsome man, albeit covered in sweat and blood. The second thought was that he was an official, judging by his uniform. Officer or not, he seemed to be in a terrible amount of pain, and blood slowly trickled from his shoulder. I took some bandages from my pack and pressed them onto his wound when his eyes fluttered open. They were a sweet brown color, like amber, or a deep honey color, but they were wide with what I believed to be fear or pain. His eyes searched my face feverishly. They landed on my blue eyes, and I felt something inside of me flicker.
“W-water.” He croaked. I snapped out of my daze long enough to unhook my canteen. I lifted his head and held the canteen to his lips. He drank as men who suffer intolerable thirst do. When his thirst had been quenched, he lowered his eyelids once more. I put his head down gently and pressed more bandages onto his wound. He flinched slightly, but remained relatively still.
“Elizabeth!” I heard a deep voice call out behind me.
“Down here, Dr. Williams!” I called back. I could hear Williams approach quickly. He knelt down beside me.
“What have we here? Another officer?” He asked. I shrugged, not liking his tone.
“I can’t be sure. But he has a shot wound in his shoulder, and I think it serious.” I informed the attractive doctor. He nodded.
“Good work. Here, let’s get him to the medical tent.” Williams and I lifted the Britain up and more or less carried him to the tent. I was surprised to feel the muscles in the man’s chest and abs area. I thought all British officers were old and fat, not young and fit. We put the man on an examining table and moved out of the tent.
*~*
“I must say, Elizabeth. Your idea of exchanging health for information was excellent.” Williams complemented me, sitting on a bale of hay. I nodded in thanks as I joined him. I was only half listening, my mind was occupied by those brown eyes.
“Honestly, I thought someone had already thought of that.” I said modestly.
“Yes, well, depending on whether or not the prisoners speak is up to them.” Prisoners? I thought. “Of course, their medical treatment depends on their cooperation.” Williams continued.
“Surely the men will be treated anyway?” I asked. Williams shook his head no.
“Well, only as necessary for them to be interrogated, I mean, questioned.” He clarified. “This is a war, after all.”
“Yes, of course,” I lied. Though not as moral as one can be proud of, Williams had a point.