The wind howled through the wreckage of Ellie’s Spitfire, the once-pristine wings now twisted and torn, the engine a useless hulk of charred metal. Blood dripped down her forehead, mixing with dirt and sweat as she struggled to stay conscious. Her vision swam, the world spinning wildly around her. The heavy ache in her skull was unbearable, but she forced herself to move, her legs wobbling as she climbed out of the cockpit.

The ground was uneven, mud and debris scattered about. Ellie took a staggered step forward, feeling the sharp sting of her wounds, but she couldn’t stop. She had to figure out what went wrong. Had the Germans taken her down? She squinted through the haze, but everything felt like a blur. She didn't even remember where over France she had flown.

She stumbled, falling to her knees for a brief moment, trying to steady herself, before hearing something. A figure moved towards her from the edge of the field, their shape blurred against the dimming sky.

Her heart skipped. Was it a German soldier?

Ellie pushed herself to her feet, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She lifted a hand to her head, her fingers slick with blood, and tried to steady herself. The figure was getting closer. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down, not now.

"Stay back," she muttered under her breath, her voice shaky, but determined.