A Heart Like Yours ~ 1917

April 7

Schofield wakes up to water dripping onto his face. He groaned, sitting up. He touched the back of his aching head, shakily looking at the blood on his hand. He attempted to tell the time, but his watch had been broken.

He glances at the window, standing up. He walked over to the window, staring at the blazing city.

Flares flew overhead.

Schofield descended the stairs, cautiously walking into the burning town. A building nearby was set aflame, and there wasn't a person in sight. It was pitch black out.

In the orange haze, he saw a silhouette, squinting to see. It only took him a few moments before he started running, the man shooting at him.

During the chase, the man fell. Schofield kicked a wooden window, slipping down into the little room. The German ran past.

Schofield took a shaky breath, readying his gun. Another room was beyond a curtain, and he slowly walked into the room.

Inside was a little home, lit up with candles and a lantern. He kept his gun ready.

A woman stood in the corner, her hands up. He kept the gun raised.” Il ny rien ici. Nous n'avons rien pour vous. S'il vous plaît.” ( there is nothing here. We have nothing for you. Please.) The woman pleaded.

Schofields gaze softens, lowering the gun to the ground. He held his hands up, as if to show he wasn't a threat. “ Anglais. Not german… friend. .. I'm a friend.” He said slowly.

The woman seemed to calm. Schofield glanced around. “ This place.. this town- Écoust? C'est Écoust?” He asked, Lauri nodding. “ oui.”

A wave of relief washed over him, before he felt the aching pain in his head. He swayed a little, wincing. “ Ou sont les austres?” ( where are the others?)

“ others? No- no. Just me-” She looks confused. He shakes his hands, and then pointed to himself. “ only. Me.” He said slower.

She nods in understanding. “ I need to be somewhere- I need to find a wood to the south.. east?” Lauri looks at Schofield blankly.

“ trees- uh- les arbres-?” He asked, searching his woozy head. “ Croiset?” “ Croisilles?” Schofield nods. “ yes.”

She points out the direction. “ La riviére-” ( the river)

“ River-?” “ River. It go there.. t-trees- croisilles.” Lauri says slowly, trying to explain.

Relief washed over him again. Tenderly, he touches the wound on his head, wincing in pain. He looks at his hand, reeling with nausea.

“ assiez-toi.” (Sit down) Lauri motions for Schofield to sit, pointing to a chair. The man sways, but, doesn't move.

“Azzeyez vous, monsieur.” (Sit down, sir) She said. Schofield understands enough to obey her. Swaying, he plops into the chair.

Holding his hand to his head, he closes his eyes, the warmth of the fire nearly making him delirious. Lauri watches carefully, moving a little closer. She places her hand on his.

He jumps at her touch, tenderness foreign to him. “ shh. Shh.” She coos, inspecting the wound. She moves his hair, finding the wound. He winces.

She places a piece of cloth gently against the wound, holding it there. Schofield turns his head to look at her, the two locking eyes. “ Thank you.” He whispers.

A baby stirs, Schofield glancing up. Lauri carefully handed the cloth to Schofield, standing up to go to the baby. She picked the girl up, expression changing entirely.