A. Marina - My family's trademark.
Adeline, Andres, Antonio, Alina.
All of our names start with an A, and we use it to remember each other, especially now with mom gone.
I hold the twin piece of fabric I made for myself and Andres tightly to my chest.
It is small enough to fit into my brother's army suit pocket and the one on my apron. I sewed it myself at home with leftover supplies when I knew that Andres and I were going to be parted soon.
Letting out a breath, I get up from my sitting position in the women cabin's stripped bed and head out the door.
The sun has not come out yet being that it is so early, but I pay no mind to the shade the clouds provide. All of the medical supplies are already packed from yesterday night's preparations, so all I have left to do now is leave camp with the rest of the others.
I join Beatrice at the place where the patient care tent used to be and help her carry some kits and things, the tools overflowing in her arms.
"Thanks," she declares as I relieve her of some towel containers.
Of all the people I've met here, Beatrice has proven to be the friendliest. No other women were really willing to interact with me, probably because of the age difference.
"What do you think will happen today, Beatrice?"
Fear and worry bubbles up inside me thinking about all of the possibilities, each of them involving someone dying.
But it doesn't make me any less worried.
In light of the announcement yesterday and the Other troops approaching, our legion is moving out in the hopes of finding a better vantage point.
"Don't fret too much, sweetie. You won't get hurt if you just stay close to the nursing station."
Beatrice gives me a motherly look, which I know is because she thinks I am scared for myself. However, this is only mildly true.
"... But that's not what you're really worried about, is it? What's wrong?"
"It's my brother," I confess."My brother is also here, and- "
"You mean...?"
"I volunteered in replace of my father, but they drafted my brother too. I didn't know what else to do." I shrug, turning away from her and towards the lightening sky.
The hate I have for my situation swells inside of my chest. Why can't I just lead a normal life? Honestly, this war is useless. The more fighting that happens, the more resources that are expended, used, wasted. Instead of coming to an agreement, Other and Nation use weapons and force.
Now our region's legion is growing by the minute through drafting boys seventeen and older, through the death of children.
Now my brother and I are stuck here, alone and terrified of dying before we even reach twenty years of age.
We are literally the living tragedies of this war.
I wince painfully at the thought.
"Oh my," Beatrice says empathetically, bringing me into a side hug. "I didn't know."
"It's okay," I answer, not offended at all. "It's just... I'm worried about him."
A few moments pass in silence.
Although Beatrice is trying to be nice, I recognize the small hint of pity that lies there.
"What is his name?"
I consider not replying, but I know that it wouldn't hurt to have an extra set of eyes watching out for him.
I can push my pride aside, if only to help my brother.
"Andres. His name is Andres."
Flashing me an uncertain smile, Beatrice starts walking in the direction that the soldiers went off in - towards the region of Hallie and into the sunrise - with me following behind her.
We don't converse again for a while.
On our trail, we pass rocky areas weathered by ancient ice and stone, along with a couple of deers and ferns. Two hours pass uneventfully like this, and there is nothing I feel anymore but the cold. There is a bed of clouds covering the sky like a blanket, refracting the warmth.
The seasons are changing, and although the land near Woodson is dry and the sun is out, Hallie causes us to move north.
Us nurses are following the army at the back of the lines where it is safer so that we can set up camp as soon as we reach the Hallie military base.
In other words, it's going to be a long walk.
I shift the extra supply bag that is resting on my shoulder to the opposite side and continue to walk. It reminds me of walking back and forth from the water well at Woodson - something I have done everyday for five years.
Trying not to think of the ache in my calves, I look straight ahead of me while walking.
We'll probably be doing this through the deserted forest all day, and I admittedly resent the fact that I do not have an extra change of clothes or sweater to keep me warm.
An hour into the walk I ditch my uniform flats for giving me blisters in turn for my heavy boots, but even so, I end up barefoot; During the walk, I eventually end up lending my heavy boots to an elderly woman who was most definitely barefoot and in pain.
Sighing, I look up ahead at the rest of the group, trying to figure out what is going on and why we are coming to a slow stop.
A distant call is heard, and then: "Halt!"
We wait in complete silence as Hawk, trodding at the front of the mass group, gets off his horse and sends two boys off in the distance to inspect the path ahead.
I'm relieved that my feet get a break from stepping over the bumpy, textured ground.
Don't they need a break?
But the soldiers stand eerily and utterly still, waiting for their camarades' return.
It doesn't come.
One minute passes, then five.
Then ten.
The two scout boys aren't back from their search yet, and I feel everyone around me hold their breath. The only sounds that are heard are the birds chittering ominously, and the rustling of leaves in the wind.
Then... something sounds up ahead.
The unmistakable crunch of footsteps can be heard, coming this way, even from the back of the army lines where the nurses stand, a hundred bodies away.
Plink plink plink.
Army boots on the ground.
Running.
The two men sent out to search the path report to their general right away, whispering in Hawk's ear as he nods.
No bombs.
No ambush.
No Other soldiers.
My shoulders relax, and the tension dissipates from the air. Soon enough we're all called on again to continue moving forward.
"Thank god." I hear an older woman speak a few paces away from me. She is talking to a younger brunette woman, with an upturned nose and freckles.
"Don't be so dramatic, Leiah," the brunette replies in a nasally voice.
"I'm being dramatic? Listen here, girl. If they'd found the Others out there, we'd already be dead."
I almost trip over myself at the blunt statement, but I do not stop until I can get far away enough from the two women to ignore their harsh comments.
Don't they have any faith in us? In Nation's army?
Sometimes I forget that war news isn't at all very accessible, or considered public knowledge. The only reason I'm aware of any of Nation's domestic issues and events is because of my little store bought radio at home.
The people of Nation don't even know where their army is heading most of the time for security purposes, so it's no wonder we fear the unpredictability of the enemy.
And yet, my fellow nurses aren't helping my nerves being out here, walking off into the unknown. So instead of hearing what they have to say, I force myself to look at the different items in the forest, like the unique patterns made by the fallen leaves and the occasional rabbits that pass by.
I remember when I was smaller and Andres was barely six years old. Our mother let us spend the day outside by the pond in the back of our house after school so that we could go exploring for magical creatures in the forest, creatures that would maybe somehow appear if we believed in them enough.
At the time the trees and bushes were still full and green, canopies of magic and wonder in which the animals could hide so that Andres and I would drive ourselves mad trying to catch them.
Resources.
Like wood and green and trees.
And rabbits.
That's what this whole war is about, apparently.
Preserved forests being taken down for the poverty stricken masses, and homeless in need of a home.
I look at the bunny hopping in front of me now, surrounded by skeleton trees.
All there ever was to eat in Woodson now are rabbits if you go hunting. And when they come out of their stick made homes to greet you, I remember being so joyful when I was little, so unbelievably ecstatic that it came out of hiding that I would smile so wide my teeth hurt. I would run home to my mother and tell her what was out there, to come and see it, see what I had found.
She would always be so ridiculously proud of me, or Andres, although, I don't think he remembers. She wouldn't yell at me or him for not making the rabbit into our nightly dinner.
I wish my mother was at home now with my father, even though it has been years since she's been gone. I see her in the golden brown bunnies, I'd like to think her spirit is somehow attached to them in there.
Maybe, in a way, my mother likes to come down and visit my brother and I as rabbits sometimes, her warm presence embodied in one of those fluffy adorable creatures.
I rub the piece of sewn fabric with my family's namesake between my fingers once again, after taking it out of my breast pocket. Hours pass like that as I fail to forget all of the things that I have lost over the years.
Mainly it's my mother. She couldn't help getting sick. But I still feel guilty in wishing that she was still here to take care of us.
When she passed, my father was forced to raise Andres and I by himself, but he wasn't prepared for it. The man failed to do so through being swallowed up by his own grief and saddening rage.
And with that, I think about my brother, and the horrid way I feel about him having a sister that can't save him from the dangers of this world like I promised my mother a long time ago.
Your love will be enough, darling. It has to be.
But it wasn't enough.
Shaking my head, I glance away from the green of the forest tiredly, the sun now starting to set.
I didn't realize how much time had passed with me just dozing off into space. When we reach a clearing, Hawk orders the unsmiling parade to stop and set up camp for the night.
Through their military strategy and some commentary from Beatrice, I've learned that it is unsafe for a large group to travel late at night, for our scouts can not detect hidden traps in the dark.
Once stopped, multiple tents go up on the ground, and I almost collapse onto the floor after seizing my treading feet. Having no shoes on really is a bad idea, but I don't complain if only because I see the gratefulness of that tired old lady who I lent my shoes to.
Okay, fine. It was worth it.
"Thank you, honey," she recants, walking up to me with the borrowed leather boots in her hands.
Taking them back gingerly, I inspect my good old friends. I bought them at the Woodson market years ago, and these shoes have always been durable as I labored in my home's garden. I am not surprised to find them still intact and not torn through.
"Really, it's no problem."
She frowns when she sees my left foot bleeding a little, but I reassure her that it's nothing. I am younger than her by decades - I can take a little bit of bleeding, a little bit of pain.
And if anything hurts me, it is not that, anyways. What hurts the most on my body is the fierce burn of my shoulders from the supplies I'd been carrying.
In the near distance, the soldiers have already taken it upon themselves to set up base while the women rest. So feeling my head spin with a dizziness I hadn't felt before, I opt to sit down on a rock jutting out of the ground while watching the preparations.
Banners and bonfires and bottles of beer are being lit and passed around. I still don't see Andres, I haven't since yesterday evening.
Yet even without him around, everything seems to settle in place for the night - a celebration of yellow lights and the smell of charcoal.
A last hurrah before lives are ended brutally tomorrow.
Another day partying in the light, but waiting in fear.