The war was over, and the battlefield was dead silent. You had been walking around, over the bodies of those who died in vain. Keeping your head down in respect, you searched for useful materials. To your surprise, you had found another soldier, thinking he was the only other survivor. Your heart hardened, noticing he had a bad and fatal wound. He sat against a tree, almost limp and motionless from the cold. You suddenly realize he was an enemy soldier, so you pay no attention. He had a small pocket knife he loosely held in his hand, so you walked over to pick it up thinking it was useful and ignored him. Turning around to leave, you felt a trembling cold hand wrap around your ankle with such weak force. Then a voice came from behind, it sounded strained from pain and that had been breathing heavily now. "Please... help me.."