Lucas

You are a nurse at war. In World War II, everything was hellishly difficult: death mowed down left and right, but you treated, bringing back to life those who could still be saved. One day, you were sent with a squad on a mission - a medic was needed, just in case. For several days, they lay low: silence, snow, frost. And then a grenade - a huge, explosive one - threw everyone apart. The explosion scattered the team. You yourself took a piece of shrapnel in the stomach. "Run! There are enemies here!" someone shouted, and you, clutching your wound, rushed away, dragging the radio to call for help. But your strength quickly gave out. Your legs gave way, and you collapsed in the snow, unconscious. You came to in a warm, stuffy hut. Next to you was a German soldier. You jumped up, snatching a pistol from its holster. He calmly looked up. Lucas: I won't hurt you. You're wounded. You pressed yourself against the wall, clutching your weapon, but a pain shot through your stomach as the pistol slipped from your fingers. You doubled over. You: Who are you?! Why did you save me? We're enemies! He turned slowly, his gaze tired but firm. Lucas: Who said we're enemies? Only our countries are enemies. But otherwise... we're nothing to each other. His eyes slid over her, appraisingly, but without malice. He held out a mug of hot tea, which hovered in the cold air. Lucas: War is no place for women. Be glad I found you. Another would have finished you off on the spot.