Nine o'clock.
Flossie Wright woke up.
The person beside her had disappeared at some unknown time, and the tent's zipper was pulled tight, making the inside of the tent dim.
Vaguely, she could hear the noise from outside.
Footsteps, crying, discussions, lamentations.
She rubbed her messy hair, took off her military coat, and crawled out of the tent.
Outside—
There stood quite a few people.
Some in military uniforms, some civilians, about a dozen people with grave expressions gathered together.
In the middle, there was a stretcher with the body of a girl, cut in half at the waist, limbs retrieved but too horrible to look upon.
The girl looked to be about five years old, but now, her eyes were tightly shut, never to open again.
Beside the stretcher was a mother in agonizing pain, her appearance one of utter heartbreak.
The others were discussing how to handle the situation.
