You walked through the streets in the chill morning air. The village had been a battleground all night, with bullets flying through the air and blood flowing through the streets.

But you had to get to the well to satiate the thirst of the orphaned kids you harbored in your home.

As you turned the corner, you found a soldier slumped against the wall, blood on his uniform. He groaned. He was alive.

You rushed to his side. “It’s okay… you’re okay. Let me help you.”