The soldier who woke after the amputation did not look for his own body first.
He looked at the ceiling of the tent. Then he looked at the face of the person beside him. Last, he realized that beneath the blanket was far too light. From that moment, his breathing grew ragged.
“Why did you save me?”
Ruan did not answer. He took the pulse beside the soldier’s neck and asked Sera for water. No fresh blood had spread across the bandage on the wound. His fever was high, and his lips were dry.
“Just one sip. Slowly.”
The soldier turned his head away.
“Answer me.”
“First we see if you can swallow.”
“I asked why you saved me.”
Ruan held a small spoon and waited. The soldier’s Adam’s apple moved once. About half the water went in, and the other half ran down his chin. Sera wiped it away with a cloth.
Beneath the cot lay a single cut boot. It was something they had not been able to throw away. When the soldier saw it, he closed his eyes.
“There isn’t even anywhere for me to go back to wearing that.”
Ruan lifted the edge of the bandage and checked the smell. There was no stench of rot yet. He did not say that was fortunate. Those words would not reach the soldier now.
“You have to get through the fever tonight.”
“And after that?”
“We look at the wound again tomorrow.”
“And after that?”
Ruan paused for a moment. It felt cruel to give a schedule to someone asking for a reason. But what he had was not some grand answer.
“You practice sitting up.”
The soldier laughed. The laugh soon cracked like a sob.
“What am I supposed to do with this body?”
A new recruit standing at the tent entrance flinched. He had been in the same squad as the amputated soldier. His name was Doren. He had survived with only a small wound to his arm, but his face looked like that of a dead man.
“Hareu.”
Doren called him carefully.
The eyes of the soldier on the cot trembled. The moment he heard his name, his anger lagged a little behind. He gritted his teeth, unable to say either “kill me” or “I want to live.”
“Don’t call me.”
“I kept your scabbard.”
“I don’t need it.”
“I kept it anyway.”
Ruan did not step between them. Instead, he lifted Hareu’s fingers and looked at them. The trembling was severe. Exhaustion still remained.
“Can you make a fist?”
“I don’t want to.”
“Make one.”
“I said I don’t want to.”
“I need to see if the blood is circulating.”
Swallowing a curse, Hareu bent his remaining hand a little. It did not become a proper fist. But there was strength in his fingertips. Ruan said that was enough.
Sera prepared a new bandage. She placed the tools somewhere Hareu could not see them. Bereun stood at the foot of the cot, tending to an old crutch. It was still too early for such a thing. Even so, the fact that someone was preparing the next step held up one side of the tent.
Oreute opened the ledger. It was neither the dead column nor the return column. He wrote Hareu’s name in the awaiting recovery column. The tip of his pen lingered on the paper for a long time. The word recovery was sometimes far too broad. He had survived, but what he had lost had not disappeared.
Hareu heard the sound.
“Where did you write me down?”
Oreute answered.
“In the waiting column.”
“So it’s a column for those neither dead nor alive.”
“Tonight, that column is necessary.”
Hareu looked up at the ceiling. His eyes were wet, but no tears came. On the battlefield, there were moments when even the strength to cry was gone.
Outside, soldiers were murmuring in low voices. Among the words was talk that Ruan had saved another one. Karen lowered the entrance flap, blocking those words from coming farther inside.
Hareu heard them.
“Don’t say you saved me.”
Ruan secured the bandage.
“I won’t say it.”
“The others will. I can’t even lift a shield anymore. If I go back, I’m baggage. If I stay here, I’m a spectacle. So why did you save me?”
This time, too, Ruan did not invent a reason. False hope rotted later than wounds.
“You were in a state where I couldn’t leave you to die.”
“That’s your answer?”
“That is as far as my answer goes today.”
Hareu turned his head away. Doren took one step closer. Karen did not stop him. Doren took a scabbard from his breast and set it beside the cot. There was no sword. Only the empty scabbard remained.
“You lent this to me. I still haven’t given it back.”
“Take it.”
“I don’t want to. You take it.”
Hareu did not move his remaining hand. Ruan looked at Doren.
“Don’t force him.”
Doren bit his lip and stepped back. The empty scabbard remained beside the cot. Hareu tried not to look at it, but his gaze kept going that way.
The night was long. His fever rose twice and fell once. Hareu woke in short bursts like from nightmares. Each time he woke, he searched for his leg. Each time, Ruan checked the wound and gave him water. He kept explanations short. He left only tasks that could be grasped in the hand.
“Breathe.”
“Water.”
“Fingers.”
Hareu cursed, but he obeyed. The fact that he could curse meant strength still remained. Sera did not say so. She knew Hareu would only grow angrier if she did.
Before dawn, Hareu asked in a low voice,
“What am I supposed to do if I live?”
Ruan was silent for a long while. Outside the tent came the sound of someone breaking frozen wheels free. Someone was already preparing the next stretcher.
“Today, you drink water.”
“And after that?”
“When the wound dries, you sit up.”
“And after that?”
“We decide again then.”
Hareu closed his eyes. His face said not that the answer was lacking, but that it was too small to endure. Still, he did not ask any more.
When the sun brightened white, Sera handed him a wooden cup. At first, Hareu did not take it. Ruan set the cup on the rail of the cot. He did not put it into Hareu’s hand. Whether to grasp it or not, he left to Hareu.
After a long time, Hareu’s remaining hand moved. His fingers could not properly wrap around the cup. A little water spilled over. Even so, the cup did not fall.
Doren held his breath. Sera did not move either. Ruan laid a cloth under the back of Hareu’s hand.
Hareu lifted the cup and drank just a little. Then, without looking toward the empty scabbard, he said,
“It’s hot.”
“I’ll cool it and give it to you again.”
Ruan took the cup and poured out some water. Hareu’s hand fell onto the blanket. The mark of the wooden cup remained between his fingers.
That afternoon, Hareu became angry again. Once his fever dropped a little, he gained the strength to move his body, and strength soon turned into rage. The moment he saw the crutch, he shoved it beneath the cot. The wood struck the floor with a dull sound.
“Get rid of it.”
Bereun bent down and picked up the crutch.
“It’s expensive.”
“Who asked for it?”
“You’ll need it when you walk.”
“Walk, you say.”
Hareu laughed. The laugh was so sharp that the soldier on the next cot opened his eyes. As Ruan checked Hareu’s wound, he shook his head at Bereun. The crutch was a word spoken far too early. Bereun withdrew, grumbling. Still, he did not throw the crutch away. He leaned it behind a tent pole.
After that, Doren could not come close to the cot. The empty scabbard remained where it was. Hareu wanted to kick it away, but the fact that he had no foot to kick with made him stiffen all the more. He clenched the blanket in his fist.
Ruan looked at that hand.
“Good.”
“What’s good?”
“Your strength is returning.”
Instead of answering, Hareu closed his eyes. Every word that sounded like praise felt like an insult. Ruan said no more and changed the bandage. He distinguished the places where new flesh would take hold from the places still dangerous, and applied medicine. Hareu gritted his teeth from time to time. Until the end, he never said it hurt.
Oreute added a small mark beside the awaiting recovery column. First day, able to drink. Able to grip by own strength. Pain response clear. They were cold words. But those cold words pushed Hareu far away from the dead column.
In the evening, the squad leader came by. He took off his helmet in front of the cot. Hareu did not look back.
“This isn’t about an order to return.”
The squad leader spoke first.
Hareu’s shoulders lowered a little.
“I brought your ration token. In case someone pocketed it.”
He placed a small wooden token beside the cot. For a soldier, a ration token was proof that he was still a living person. Hareu looked at it for a long time. It was smaller than the empty scabbard. And yet it looked heavier.
“Why bring something like this?”
“Because your name is still in our line.”
The squad leader said nothing more. Because there was no lengthy consolation, Hareu could not drive him away.
That night, Hareu grasped the water cup again. It was at a moment when he thought Ruan was not watching. His fingers slipped, and the cup tilted. When Doren moved reflexively to catch it, Ruan stopped him in a low voice.
“Wait.”
A little water spilled over, but the cup did not topple. Tendons stood out on the back of Hareu’s hand. Gasping for breath, he righted the cup. That one small act soaked his whole body.
“Damn it.”
“Good.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Understood.”
Ruan handed him a cloth. Hareu took it. He was still learning the difference between receiving help and having something taken from him.
At dawn, Hareu asked first,
“How is the wound?”
Ruan opened the bandage slightly.
“Not bad.”
“I’ll know if you’re lying.”
“I didn’t say it was good.”
Hareu let out a very small breath. It was not a laugh. Still, for the first time, he did not say, “Kill me.”
Ruan looked at the ration token, the empty scabbard, and the water cup lined up beside the cot. They were not reasons. No one could call them reasons to live. But they could become handholds for getting through today.
Late in the afternoon, Hareu said he wanted to see his wound for the first time. Before lifting the cloth, Sera asked once,
“Are you sure you want to see?”
Hareu nodded. Ruan slowly unwound the bandage. The wound was neither clean nor beautiful. Surviving flesh and the place of loss were roughly joined together. Hareu swallowed his breath. Doren tried to turn his eyes away, then watched until the end.
“Is this me?”
Ruan did not search for an answer.
“Right now, it is a wound. You are Hareu.”
Hareu did not get angry. After a long time, he turned his head away.
“Cover it again, please.”
Ruan wrapped the bandage around him. He tied the knot not too tightly. Hareu looked as if he could not believe that his name still remained before his body did. Still, he did not say, “Kill me.”