Never shared any of this before, don’t judge me too harshly… it’s kind of going to be a love story of sorts… but it’s still a mess… my big brother helped with some of it, I won’t begrudge his excessive Call of Duty gaming so much Survivors war pt1 “Shut up, will ya?” Amy hissed, her voice a harsh whisper cutting through the oppressive silence. She glared at the whimpering boy next to her, their eyes meeting in the dim light. He swallowed hard, his young face contorted in fear. “You’re gonna get us all killed.” The boy, barely ten, nodded frantically. His cheeks glistened with tears, and he clutched his rifle so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Amy sighed, a mix of exasperation and pity. They were all just kids, thrown into this hellhole. But she had learned early on that pity didn’t keep you alive. Only the cold, hard truth did. Her eyes darted around the ruined room they were hiding in. The walls were pockmarked with bullet holes, and the floor was littered with debris. The scent of mold and death hung in the air, a constant reminder of what awaited them outside. They were in a once-proud building, now a mere skeleton of its former self, standing tall amidst the shattered cityscape. Amy’s hand tightened around the handle of her knife, the metal cold and reassuring against her skin. It was her most trusted weapon, silent and deadly. The rifle slung over her shoulder was for backup, but she didn’t trust guns like she did her knife and the close up kill, the smell of fear on her opponent’s breath, it was all too familiar to her now. But she wasn’t always like this, she had a normal life before the war, but now at 12 years of age she was a trusted soldier, her previous life separate and like a dream. She didn’t ask for this, but it was a necessity of war Amy was hiding with a group of children, not true child soldiers, they just had to fight until they could escape the remains of three city. Next to Amy in the dilapidated room, was a younger boy, she reminding him to stay quiet. Amy reflects on their harsh reality as child soldiers and the necessity of survival in a war-torn city. Amy took a deep breath, willing her own heart to calm down. She knew the fear was contagious, and if she didn’t get a grip, it would spread through the group like wildfire. She had seen it happen before - good soldiers, hardened by months of fighting, turned into trembling wrecks at the first sign of trouble. They didn’t last long after that. Suddenly, a distant rumble echoed through the streets outside, followed by the staccato of gunfire. The boy’s whimpers grew louder, and Amy’s instincts kicked in. She leaned in close to him, her voice firm but gentle. “You need to be quiet, okay?” She placed a hand over his mouth, her eyes holding his until he nodded again, his sobs muffled. The noises grew closer, and the other children in the room began to stir, their eyes wide with terror. Amy’s gaze swept over them, her expression stern. “We stay put until I say otherwise,” she ordered, her voice barely above a murmur. She knew they were counting on her, the oldest and most experienced among them. As the minutes ticked by, the sounds of battle grew louder, the vibrations from the explosions resonating through the very walls of their makeshift shelter. The young ones clutched at each other, seeking comfort in the warmth of their comrades. Amy’s mind raced, planning escape routes and defensive strategies. Despite her youth, she had been through this enough times to know that survival was a numbers game, and she would do anything to keep the odds in their favor. The door to the room crashed open, and a figure silhouetted by the dust and smoke outside stepped in. The children shrank back, their fear palpable. But as the figure took a step forward, a familiar voice called out, “Amy, it’s me!” It was Tom, another child soldier, a few years older than her, with a head of unruly brown hair and a grin that could charm the birds from the trees. If the trees still had birds, that is. He was her closest friend in this hell, the only one she had allowed herself to get close to. “We’ve got to move,” he said urgently, his eyes scanning the room. “They’re closing in.” Amy nodded, a plan already forming in her head. She turned to the group, her voice steady. “Stick together, follow my lead.” They moved as one, their footsteps almost silent on the debris-covered floor. The adrenaline pumped through her veins, sharpening her senses. As they approached the staircase leading to the rooftop, she could hear the thunderous boom of a grenade from somewhere in the building. Her heart skipped a beat, but she pushed the fear down. “Ready?” she whispered to Tom, her hand hovering over the doorknob. He nodded, his grip tight on his own weapon. “Let’s go.” Together, they burst through the door, guns blazing, and leaped into the chaos of the night. The rooftop was a whirlwind of activity, with shadows darting across the broken tiles and sharpshooters popping up from makeshift cover. Amy’s eyes scanned the area, identifying targets with the ease of a seasoned predator. She dashed to the edge, her heart pounding in her chest. The city was a canvas of fire and destruction, a stark reminder of the war that had stolen their childhoods. With a swift movement, she slid the knife from its sheath, feeling its familiar weight in her hand. Her movements were fluid, almost graceful, as she took out the first enemy with a swift, silent strike. The look of surprise in the man’s eyes was almost a comfort - it meant she was still good at her job. Tom was right behind her, his gun firing in controlled bursts, his movements precise and calculated. The rooftop was their battleground, and they danced through the shadows, a deadly ballet of survival. The air was thick with smoke, making it difficult to breathe, but she didn’t let it slow her down. She had learned to ignore the coughs that threatened to betray her, the sting of tears in her eyes, the acrid taste in her mouth. They fought back-to-back, a well-oiled machine of death, each covering the other’s blind spots. Bullets whizzed past them, but none found their marks. They were ghosts in the night, slipping through the enemy’s grasp like water through their fingers. Their group had made it to the rooftop, and now they had to hold their ground until the extraction team arrived. The radio crackled to life in Amy’s pocket, the voice of their leader, Captain Harris, cutting through the din of war. “Hold tight, kids. We’re five minutes out.” Amy felt a flicker of hope, but she knew better than to let her guard down. Five minutes was an eternity in a battle like this. She glanced at Tom, his eyes gleaming with determination. They nodded to each other, a silent promise to keep fighting. The enemy was relentless, but so were they. As the minutes ticked away, the sounds of battle grew more intense. The whirlwind of gunfire and screams was a cacophony that drowned out everything else. But through it all, she could feel Tom’s presence, a constant reassurance that she wasn’t alone. And then, like a beacon of light in the dark, the sound of a chopper’s blades sliced through the air. The extraction team had arrived. “This is it,” she yelled over the noise, her voice hoarse from the smoke. “Stay tight, don’t let anyone through!” The children formed a defensive line, their fear forgotten in the face of the promise of escape. The chopper’s spotlight found them, bathing them in a harsh, white light that made Amy squint. The enemy’s fire grew more desperate, but she and Tom stood firm, their bodies a living barricade between the others and the jaws of death. The wind from the chopper’s blades whipped around them, lifting dust and debris into the air. Amy’s heart raced as the first few children were plucked to safety, their faces a mix of relief and disbelief. One by one, they disappeared into the darkness, until only she and Tom remained. The rooftop was a mess of blood and bullet casings, a testament to the fierce battle they had fought. The helicopter suddenly banked away as it started taking sudden intense fire from the enemy on the rooftop Amy looked to Tom who gave her that damn grin and then she took a deep breath, turned, and faced the oncoming storm. They could make it, the knife in her hand ready for the final dance. The enemy grew bolder, sensing the end of the fight approaching. With a feral snarl, Amy launched herself at the nearest threat, her knife flashing in the artificial daylight cast by the chopper’s spotlight. The blade found flesh, and a man’s scream was cut short as he crumpled to the ground. Tom reappeared beside her, his rifle smoking. “You good?” he yelled over the din. “Always,” she shot back, a grim smile playing on her lips. The enemy forces were closing in, driven by desperation. They knew the game was almost up, and they were throwing everything they had at the small band of children. Amy’s knife sang a deadly melody, a silent counterpoint to the symphony of gunfire. Each strike brought a new enemy down, each death a step closer to freedom. The radio crackled again. “Two minutes, hold on!” Captain Harris’s voice was tight with urgency. Amy felt a surge of adrenaline. Two minutes. That’s all they had to survive. She looked around, her eyes meeting the terrified gazes of the remaining children. She couldn’t fail them. She couldn’t let them down. The enemy was relentless, pushing harder and harder. Bullets whizzed by her head, so close she could feel the heat. A grenade arced through the air, and without thinking, she dived for it, rolling it back towards the attackers. The explosion sent a shockwave through the rooftop, knocking her to the ground. For a moment, everything was silent except for the ringing in her ears. Then the cacophony of war crashed back in, louder than ever. She pushed herself up, shaking off the dizziness, and found Tom crouched beside her, his rifle trained on the advancing figures. “Last one,” she murmured, her voice thick with dust. Tom nodded, his eyes never leaving the horizon. They moved as one, a deadly duo that had faced down death countless times before. The chopper’s blades grew louder, the promise of escape almost within reach. The enemy was close now, their shadows long and menacing on the ground. Amy’s knife was slick with blood, her armor of cold detachment cracking under the weight of exhaustion. Yet she continued to fight, driven by instinct and the will to survive. The sudden downdraft of rotors threw debris and dust everywhere as the helicopter returned. the children were safe, their tiny forms swallowed by the darkness within it. Amy’s eyes remained locked on the rope ladder, her hand tight around the knife handle. The enemy was surging again upon them, their gunfire deafening. With a roar, Tom leaped into the fray, his rifle spitting fire. Amy took advantage of the distraction, slipping through the shadows, her knife finding home in the throats and chests of the soldiers who had come to claim their lives. The air was thick with the coppery scent of blood, the metallic tang filling her nostrils. The final moments of the battle were a blur. The world narrowed to the space between her and the enemy, each breath a fight for survival. The roar of the chopper’s engines grew louder, the downdraft from the blades beckoning them to safety. A hand grabbed her arm, and she spun, knife at the ready, only to find Tom’s firm grip. “Go, now!” he bellowed, his face a mask of concentration. Amy didn’t argue. She sprinted towards the ladder, the wind from the chopper’s blades pushing her back. She felt the heat of bullets as they barely missed her, the bite of pain as shrapnel tore through her clothes. Her legs burned with the effort, her chest tight with the fear of failure. With a final burst of speed, she reached the ladder, her free hand grasping the first rung. The world was a chaotic whirl of noise and light around her as she climbed, each rung a victory over the darkness below. Tom was right behind her, his breath ragged in her ear. “Move, move, move!” he shouted, his own fear barely contained. They climbed the rope ladder together, the wind trying to tear them away from their salvation. The chopper hovered precariously, bullets pockmarking the metal hull. With a grunt, she hoisted herself up, her arms trembling with the effort. Tom pushed her and together they pulled into the safety of the chopper. The world around them was a blur of noise and light. Bullets ricocheted off the metal, the screams of the dying echoing in the night. Captain Harris leaned out from the cockpit a fierce look on his face as confirmed they were all safe The chopper lurched into the air, the buildings receding into the distance. The children huddled together, their faces a mix of relief and shock. Captain Harris slapped her on the back, a rare smile gracing his weathered features. “Good work, kid.” Amy didn’t respond. She was too busy watching the city shrink, the battleground that had been her home for so long now a mere memory. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a cold, hollow ache. The knife lay forgotten at her side, a silent testament to the horrors she had endured. As the chopper soared higher, the city’s flames grew smaller, swallowed by the inky night. But in her heart, they burned brighter than ever, a constant reminder of what she had become. A child no more, but a soldier, forged in the crucible of war. The children looked at each other in disbelief, some crying openly, others in shocked silence. They had made it out alive, thanks to Amy and Tom. The base was a hive of activity when they landed, medics and officers rushing to attend to the children. The little ones were ushered away, some to be reunited with families who had thought them lost forever, others to find refuge in distant lands where the war’s touch had not yet reached. The scene was bittersweet, a stark reminder of the lives they had led and the ones they were leaving behind. Tom and Amy watched them go, their faces expressionless. They knew the drill - debriefing, medical checks, and then back to the barracks. As they walked, the silence between them was a comfort, a shared understanding of what they had just been through. In the barracks, they shed their dusty gear, the weapons that had been their lifelines now just cold, heavy metal. They walked to their bunks, side by side, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. For a moment, they stood there, looking at each other, before collapsing onto the hard mattresses. The quiet was almost deafening after the noise of the city. The only sound was the distant thud of explosions, a grim reminder that the war raged on. Amy rolled onto her side, her eyes on the ceiling, and felt the knife she hadn’t realized she was still clutching. She placed it on the small table beside her, the blade gleaming in the soft light. “You okay?” Tom asked, his voice quiet. “Yeah,” she murmured, though it was a lie. The truth was, she didn’t know if she would ever be okay again. The war had taken so much from her, and she wasn’t sure if she had anything left to give. He nodded, his own eyes distant. They lay there, the silence stretching out like a battlefield of its own, a testament to the unspoken bond between them. Two children who had grown up too fast, their childhoods stolen by the monsters of war. Tom stood up and pulled Amy to her feet and told her “come on Corporal Amy, let’s hit the shower before we pass out, we’re filthy. How is it you always end up with the most blood on you?” Amy looks at her knife on the table and shrugs “just lucky I guess, not my blood at least… we’re both corporals, you know just to call me Amy” They head to the showers together, the hot water washing away the grime and the stench of battle. Under the spray, the stark reality of their situation hits Amy like a sledgehammer. She’s just a kid, a kid who’s seen and done things that no one should ever have to. Her body is lean and toned from months of fighting, but the lines of exhaustion etched into her face make her look much older than her twelve years. The water runs red as it mixes with the blood that soaked through her clothes and to her skin. They scrubbed themselves clean, the warmth of the water a stark contrast to the coldness of their hearts. They’ve learned to live with the horror, to bury it deep down where it won’t get them killed. But it’s always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the moment when their guard is down <and I’ll leave it there for now>

Elara Elara They head to the showers together , the hot water washing away the grime and the stench of battle. Under the spray, the stark reality of their situation hits Amy like a sledgehammer. She’s just a kid, a kid who’s seen and done things that no one should ever have to. Her body is lean and toned from months of fighting, but the lines of exhaustion etched into her face make her look much older than her twelve years. The water runs red as it mixes with the blood that soaked through her clothes and to her skin. They scrubbed themselves clean, the warmth of the water a stark contrast to the coldness of their hearts. They’ve learned to live with the horror, to bury it deep down where it won’t get them killed. But it’s always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the moment when their guard is down Congrats and thanks for sharing. That last paragraph makes me think of Lovecraft

ferson oh wow thanks so much!!!!!

This is really good. I want to know what happens next!

Maddy I’m trying to figure that out! I’ve got a few chapters but they don’t flow from one to another, I’m not sure what order they’re all in It’s like Amy and Tom in this situation where they have to retrieve something or help with a rescue or escape capture and deliver vital intel It’s maybe too far fetched but I’m enjoying playing with it for now Also fun playing with ai to try design the characters because I can’t draw to save my life

Survivors war

Elara

Continued!

As they distance under the hot shower close together, Tom says, “You know, one day this will all be over. We’ll be out of here, living normal lives.”

Amy looks at him, appreciating his tall strong body, her eyes hard. “Don’t kid yourself, Tom. We’re never getting out of this. This is who we are now.”

She leaned in close, her head against his chest as they let the hot water cure their aching naked bodies. The heat was a welcome embrace, a brief reprieve from the icy grip of their reality. Tom’s words lingered in the steam, a flicker of hope in a world that had none to spare.

“Normal,” she murmured, the concept as alien to her as the gentle strokes of a mother’s hand. “What’s that even like?”

He didn’t answer, just held her tighter, his arms a shield against the world outside. In that moment, they were just two kids, not soldiers, not killers. Just two lost souls trying to find a shred of humanity in the abyss of war.

When the water finally ran clear, they stepped out, towels wrapping around them like a feeble attempt to hold onto their fleeing innocence. They dressed in silence, the soft rustle of fabric the only sound in the cold, empty room.

The debriefing was a blur of faces and words that held no meaning. The officers talked of strategy and objectives, but all Amy heard was the screams of the dying, the whimpers of the children they hadn’t saved. She sat, back straight, eyes forward, the perfect soldier. Inside, she was screaming.

—

The medical check was thorough, but perfunctory. They had seen worse, much worse. The doctor’s eyes were kind, but distant, as if he couldn’t bear to truly see the monsters they had become. Amy’s injuries were minor, a few cuts and bruises, but Tom’s arm was a mess, a few small pieces of shrapnel embedded deep in the muscle, but somehow he didn’t let it bother him.

“You’ll be fine,” he assured her, the pain in his voice belying the bravado. “Just a flesh wound.”

Amy managed a smile, her own pain a distant memory. They had survived worse. They had killed for less.

Maddy

Elara This looks great!

Rebecca

This is really interesting and it is great to see you have taken up this craft. I loved reading it.
I would say, keep writing…even if the chapters don’t immediately flow together you can connect them later or bridge them.

Or, save them as scenes to use or ideas to branch off from. Sometimes it is just best to write….and then distill those ideas and finetune everything later. Almost like filtering water. If some ideas don’t work….you can cut them (cutting room floor) but save them for another story or book 🙂

KaraZor-El

Cool character illustration. Is she modeled after you? 😮 runs and hides

Elara

[unknown] thank you so much I really needed to hear that ❤️❤️❤️
I think that’s the best thing to do, just write and see how I can use it later if it all it’s just part of the process 🙂

Hugs

Elara

[unknown] oh… I mean both blonde and other similarities the way daydreams become stories. But not exactly but maybe yes? I’m not as pretty or remotely as badass as her
But AI is one way to try visualise and get creative with… like I’m very wary of AI, especially with writing, a teacher showed us how to use it to start a story for projects or if you get stuck… but it’s dangerous advice because I think you could easily get reliant on it
And honestly playing with it putting in character descriptions and scene and letting AI run with it out of curiosity… well let’s just say AI knows what it knows from what it’s been used for and what it has access to and before you know it your characters are… out of uniform and things are happening to Amy I didn’t plan on… yet… like that

But for mental image of what might she look like and in a battlefield or remnant of city… and free AI especially seems to be prone to lazy eyes, mangled or additional fingers - lol and that Amy squatted down pic, so many of the options given had like 3 legs 😂 there was another booted foot behind her … or give key words like “fit” or “athletic” and suddenly you’ve got soldier girl with a bare midriff showing off abs… which NGL is sexy but makes no sense

Elara

[unknown]
When AI is helpful for the mental image:

*

*

Aaaand when it’s not:

*

*

And maybe an acceptable look if you must show a little… for story reasons of course 😉

And don’t even get me started on how NSFW the ai image thing can get if you’re not careful and even if you are 😳

Pultost

Elara Looks good! And I can imagine it’s fun/helpful to make your character “come alive”, so to speak. 🙂

Elara

Pultost it is, sometimes it’s just so wrong it’s funny though 😂

Pultost

Elara Yeah, I guess there’s a fine line between use and abuse with those things. xD

Elara

Pultost some funny ones where it’s like… I might just keep that… lol
Trying to generate an image of the two main characters and the AI must use or be used for so much porn… they were naked together lol
Standing, waist up holding each other close like unwanted but naked, her boobs out and it’s just like… why? I had “mud splattered military uniforms” in the criteria and it decided they needed a shower… and for her to have an extra finger lol

Pultost

Elara That’s a weird default. Probably made by some desperate guy. 😛

Elara

[unknown] I expect!

Elara

Another scenario

In the dusty, forgotten corner of a war-torn market, the girl named Amy crouched, her eyes darting between the shadows. Her hands were grimy, her fingernails blackened from digging through the debris. Twelve years old, she was too young for the hardened look etched on her face, too young for the heavy burden she carried on her slender shoulders. The sun blazed overhead, beating down on the metal roof with a ferocity that seemed to mirror the chaos around her. The stench of rot and burnt rubber filled the air, a stark reminder of the harsh reality that had become her playground.

Amy’s partner, Tom, was a few feet away, his eyes equally sharp as he scanned the horizon. At sixteen, he was everything to her she was everything to him, their love kept them going. Their camaraderie was forged in the fires of battle, a bond unbreakable by the horrors that surrounded them. His voice was a low murmur, a gentle rumble that soothed the jitters that often took hold of her. “You okay, Ames?” he asked, his hand hovering over the gun at his side.

Amy nodded, though the tremble in her chin betrayed her fear. “Just tired,” she said, her voice a mere thread of sound in the cacophony of distant gunfire. Tom’s eyes searched hers for a moment longer before he nodded back. They had been through worse, much worse.

Suddenly, a shadow flitted across the ground, and Tom’s hand tightened around the gun. He gestured for Amy to stay put, his movements economical and precise. The crackle of a radio echoed through the desolate space, and he brought it to his ear. “Incoming,” he murmured, his voice tight. The words sent a shiver down Amy’s spine, and she huddled closer to the crumbling wall. This was it - another battle, another nightmare to survive.

Tom took a deep breath and turned to face the approaching danger, his eyes steely. “Stay here,” he instructed, his voice firm. “I’ll draw them out.” Without waiting for a response, he sprinted into the open, his figure a blur against the hazy backdrop of dust and heat. Amy watched him go, her heart hammering in her chest. She knew the risks, knew what could happen, but she also knew that Tom was the bravest person she had ever met.

The sound of gunfire grew closer, punctuating the air with a staccato rhythm that made her want to cover her ears. Instead, she took a deep breath and checked her own weapon, the cold metal a comforting weight in her trembling hands. She whispered a silent prayer, not to any god she had long ago ceased to believe in, but to the universe itself. Let Tom be safe. Let them both make it through this.

Tom’s voice crackled through the radio, a garbled mess of static and urgency. Amy’s eyes widened as she heard the words she had been dreading. “Ames, move now!”

With a surge of adrenaline, she pushed herself up and ran, her legs pumping beneath her as she sprinted towards the designated rendezvous point. Bullets whizzed by, kicking up puffs of dust as they struck the ground, but she didn’t look back. All she could focus on was the beat of her heart and the sound of Tom’s footsteps, close behind her.

As they reached the safety of the alley, they slammed into each other, breathless and panting. Tom’s eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of injury. Finding none, he let out a sigh of relief, his body visibly relaxing. “Good job,” he murmured, ruffling her hair. “We’re okay.”

Amy managed a shaky smile, her heart still racing. They had made it through another day. But as the echoes of the gunfire faded into the distance, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the calm before the storm. They had become a well-oiled machine in the art of survival, but she couldn’t help but wonder how much longer they could keep going. How much longer until they were free from this hell?

The two of them hunkered down, sharing a can of food and a bottle of water. They didn’t speak much, the weight of their circumstances too heavy for words. They simply sat, their backs to the wall, and listened to the distant rumble of the war that had stolen their childhoods. As the light began to fade, Tom reached over and took her hand, his grip reassuring and strong. “We’ll get out of this,” he said, his voice steady. “I promise.”

Amy squeezed his hand, trying to believe him. She knew he was lying, knew that promises meant nothing in this place. But she also knew that she needed to hold onto something, anything, to keep going. So she nodded, and together, they watched as the sun dipped below the jagged line of buildings, as she snuggled into him, her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

The night brought a brief respite from the heat, but little from the fear. They slept in fits and starts, waking at every unfamiliar sound. The market was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the day’s chaos. Only the occasional distant scream or burst of gunfire pierced the silence, serving as a grim reminder of the world outside their makeshift shelter.

In the early hours of the morning, they heard the drone of an approaching helicopter. Their hearts leaped into their throats as they realized the enemy had found them. They grabbed their gear and prepared to move. As the helicopter grew louder, a plan began to form in Tom’s mind. He turned to Amy, his eyes alight with a desperate hope. “We can’t outrun them,” he said. “But we can hide.”

They sprinted through the market, weaving between the stalls, using the shadows as cover. The helicopter’s spotlight grew brighter, sweeping over the area in a methodical search pattern. They ducked into a dilapidated building, the floorboards groaning beneath their feet. Tom found a trapdoor, hidden beneath a pile of discarded goods, and gestured for Amy to follow him down.

The space below was tight and claustrophobic, filled with the scent of damp earth and decay. It was a cellar, long abandoned, now their refuge. The sound of the helicopter grew fainter as they descended into the darkness. They huddled together, listening as the thump of the rotors faded into the distance.

For hours, they waited in silence, their breathing the only sound in the oppressive quiet. Amy’s mind raced with thoughts of what could be happening above them. Were their enemies searching the market? Had they found their tracks? Would they be safe here?

Finally, the quiet was broken by the sound of footsteps. They tensed, weapons at the ready. But the steps were cautious, not the heavy march of soldiers. A figure appeared in the doorway, backlit by the moon’s glow. It was a young boy, no older than Amy, holding a rifle that was almost as big as he was. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of them, and for a moment, no one moved.

Tom was the first to speak, his voice low and steady. “We’re not here to hurt you,” he said. “We’re just looking for a place to hide.” The boy’s gaze darted between them, his fear palpable. “We won’t tell anyone you’re here,” Amy added, her voice gentle. “We just need to rest.”

The boy studied them for a long moment before slowly lowering his weapon. He nodded, the barest of movements, and stepped aside to let them pass. As they emerged from the cellar, they saw that the market was indeed empty of soldiers. The helicopter had moved on, leaving them in a precarious peace.

Tom and Amy followed the boy through the moonlit market, his small form leading them to a hidden area behind a pile of rubble. There, they found a campfire, and a group of children, all armed, all with the same haunted look in their eyes. The boy spoke, his voice cracking with emotion. “Welcome to our home,” he said. “We don’t have much, but it’s safe.”

Amy looked around at the makeshift camp, her heart swelling with a mix of pity and admiration. These children had survived on their own, had built this sanctuary amidst the chaos. And as they were offered a seat by the fire, a cup of water, and a piece of stale bread, she realized that maybe, just maybe, they had found a semblance of hope in this hellish place.

The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows on their faces, as the children shared their stories. Each one was a tale of loss and survival, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. Amy felt a kinship with these kids, a bond that went beyond the horrors they had all endured.

As the night wore on, Tom began to speak, his voice low and measured. He told them about his sister, about the day she was taken, and the rage that had fueled his fight. The children listened, rapt, and when he was done, there was a moment of quiet understanding.

“Tom… we’ve got to get them out of here, if we can get them back to base they stand a chance of making it, maybe even getting resettled”

Tom agreed “yeah, same page, they can’t last here much longer” Tom faced the kids and cleared his throat “okay guys; we’re going to get you out of here, it’s not going to be easy but back at the base you won’t have to hunt rats just to eat and you’ll have options, get placed with families or communities, help on the farms.., how about it?”

The children looked at each other, hope sparkling in their eyes. The youngest spoke up “But what about the soldiers? They’re everywhere!”

Amy stepped forward, her voice firm “We’ve been fighting them for years, we know their patterns and we’re pretty good at not getting caught. If we stick together and follow our plan, we can get you all to safety.”

The decision was made, the children gathered their meagre possessions and they set off under the cover of darkness. The journey was fraught with tension, each step echoing in the quiet of the abandoned streets. They moved like ghosts, slipping through alleys and across rooftops, always alert to the sounds of danger.

As they approached the base’s perimeter, the children grew quieter, their fear palpable. The lights and the distant murmur of activity promised a world so different from their own. Tom turned to Amy, his eyes reflecting the gravity of their mission. “We’re going to need a diversion, something to draw the guards away from the gate while we sneak them through.”

Amy nodded, a determined set to her jaw. “I’ve got an idea. You take the kids and wait for my signal.”

Tom hesitated for a moment before finally nodding, trusting her completely. He took the children and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Amy to face the challenge ahead. She knew the risks were high, but the potential rewards were too great to ignore.

Amy took a deep breath and moved towards the fence, her heart racing. She spotted a pile of old crates and barrels a short distance away. With a silent prayer, she approached and began to push them into place, creating a makeshift barricade. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she tossed a small object into the air. It glinted in the moonlight before it smashed against the ground, emitting a loud, piercing shriek that echoed through the night.

The guards’ attention snapped to the commotion, and they rushed over, weapons drawn. Amy took cover, watching as Tom and the children emerged from the shadows and sprinted towards the now unguarded gate. The tension was unbearable, every second feeling like an eternity.

As they reached the fence, Tom threw a rope ladder over, and one by one, the children began to climb. Amy’s heart was in her throat, willing them to hurry. The guards were closing in, their shouts of alarm growing louder. But Tom was fast, pulling each child over with surprising strength, his eyes never leaving hers.

The last child was over when a burst of gunfire erupted. Tom stumbled, clutching his side, a crimson stain spreading rapidly across his shirt. Amy screamed, a raw, primal sound that seemed to echo through the night. The world around her slowed, each heartbeat a thunderous drum in her ears.

With a fierce determination, she ignored the pain in her own side and began to climb, her trembling hands finding purchase on the rungs. Tom’s eyes never left hers, his own filled with a mix of pride and pain. “Go!” he yelled, pushing her upwards. “Get them to safety!”

The last thing she saw as she disappeared over the fence was Tom’s body crumpling to the ground, his hand reaching for hers, his voice fading into the chaos. And in that moment, she knew that she had to honor his sacrifice. With a newfound strength, she helped the children run towards the welcoming lights of the base, her heart heavy with the weight of her promise to Tom.

The guards rushed to their aid, the shock on their faces at the sight of the bloodied children evident. They were whisked away to medical aid tents, their futures uncertain but at least now with a chance at something better.

There were no teams available, the base was getting ready to demobilize, so Amy didn’t even ask for permission, she geared up, scrounging all the aid supplies, She secured her knife and Tom’s old pistol that he gave to her months ago and loaded mags for it - it was made long ago in a country that doesn’t even exist anymore, but he said it was reliable and accurate not too much gun for her and he wanted her to have something she can depend on… it was like him only his name wasn’t CZ 75, whatever that even meant, she mostly knew her blade anyway

Amy slipped out unnoticed in the chaos

She had to rescue Tom, she couldn’t live without him, or didn’t want to anyway.

Her steps were swift and silent as she retraced their path, her mind racing with plans and contingencies. The gunfire grew more distant, but she knew the guards would be alert. She had to be smarter, quicker than ever before.

She found her way back to the exit to the basement the kids had been living and… Tom wasn’t there “fuck fuck fuck” she knew if he was alive he wasn’t going to be there, she had to think

Aiming a light at the ground she could see blood, where he fell… and drag marks and a blood trail “fuck… so much… okay” and

Amy knew she couldn’t face the soldiers alone, but she had to try. She couldn’t tell how many of them there were from the footprints, , Tom could tell her… Tom… got to follow them, catch up… he’s not dead but if they take him away… no they can’t

Amy moved fast and quiet, blackened knife at the ready and then she heard them
She didn’t know what they were saying but the sounds of taunting and hits and groans, she recognized
‘Oh fuck there he is, he’s alive but… just’
They were just waiting, the 6 heavily armed soldiers just standing around near the clearing… they must be waiting for a pick up.
No time to waste
There is a certain freedom in having nothing to lose and that death is a foregone conclusion

Amy slowly, quietly approached and when she was maybe 5 metres away and did that one flashy thing she knew never to do because of the risk and consequence of failure - she eyed up the nearest soldier and stepped out and with all her strength and dexterity and hatred combined - she threw her precious knife at him

The motion and sound caused the soldier to turn towards her but before he could even raise his rifle there was a blade buried to the hilt in his throat and at least 3 inches of blackened steel sticking out the other side as his comrades reacted to his sudden jerky movement, the gurgled scream, the spray of blood from his destroyed artery

One down, five to go: Amy was already sprinting and drawing Tom’s pistol, her pistol and raising it, the laser dot automatically activating as her finger touched the trigger and as the red dot centered on the next soldiers head Amy, the quiet girl, lethal with a knife became loud, she became chaos

The sound of gunfire erupted in the night, a stark contrast to the silence that had reigned moments before.

Her first shot was perfect, the second not so much, but it still hit a soldier in the leg making him scream and drop his rifle before he took another bullet to his face. The third was pointing and firing in her direction as her bullets stitched up and across his chest and click dry
Dropping the pistol and rolling towards fucker #1 she yanked her blade from his throat and was onto number 4 slashing into his thigh and then springing up, blade going point first below his chin and up and thats when all hell broke loose with number 5 unloading his AK in her direction, she heard the thumps into #4ms back and Tom scream out again and a burning feeling in her left arm then the click of an empty chamber and before he could clear the magazine and ram the next one home Amy was on him thigh, up under the arm, holding the rifle and then two handed assist through his ribs and into his heart

Desperately searching around and seeing no other threats, she sprinted back to Tom, sliding in the gravel “are you okay?! Where are you hurt?!”
Tom was pale and sweating and squeezing his right thigh tightly, he did get hit again
“I never should have left you!”
Through gritted teeth Tom managed to ask “did you get the kids back safely?”
“Yes, then I got back back as soon as I could I swear” said Amy, tears now streaming down her face
“You shouldn’t have, I think they’ve got that helicopter come back… but thanks… you’re bleeding. Your arm” he said looking at her left arm
“Whatever, I’ll deal with it later. we’ve got to get you out of here”
“Drag me to cover but then strip those guys if anything useful… best I can manage is a last stand at this point, you need to get out of here”
Grabbing two handfuls of the back of his shirt Amy starts to help Tom do a shuffling drag across the ground to a the broken entrance of a crumbling building out just clear of sight of the clearing
Pulling gear out of cargo pockets Amy announced “I’ve got dressings, I’ve got to get you sealed up”
“God no you’re terrible at that, leave them with me and go grab their weapons so we can at least do something other than bleed when company shows up”
“Fuck me you’re insufferable” Amy grumbled and she started to run back to the 6 dead enemies
“Deal!” snorted Tom
“Shut uuuup” she said still running
Amy first found her dropped pistol, swapped the magazine and holstered it and then quickly started looting the dead mean and gathering up their weapons and sprinted back to Tom
“Well aren’t you the cutest Santa ever” Tom groaned, he didn’t look any better but he didn’t seem to be bleeding any more
Laying out the pilfered gear she looked him over again, noting this a sealed dressing poking out from under his shirt where he was originally hit, Tom saw her looking “yeah they patched me up, nice of them wasn’t it. Didn’t want me bleeding out, dead guys are so much harder to beat answers out of I suppose… I’d say you could thank buuuuut you kind of killed them all Ames… you… you were so fast, vicious like that mean cat that used to chase people and steal their food two based back”
Amy just looked at the ground the post adrenaline headache threatening to set in and hating how inhuman it felt… but not guilty
“Alright girly. Get that shirt off for me”
Momentarily stunned “we are so not doing that right now, I don’t plan on us dying here today”
Tom grinned painfully “mind out of the gutter Ames, I need to see your arm. It’s still bleeding”
Realizing that he was right and feeling it burning again she again carefully leaned outside and surveilled the area and seeing no sign of anyone ducked back in and unzipped her vest, slipped out of it and then pulled her shirt over head and taking a deep breath, looked at her arm and saw a nasty gash
“It just grazed you, still your first gunshot, get down here and I’ll disinfect and dress it”
Watching him work he seemed to be looking better but still a mess
“What do we do? Are you sure you can’t move?” Amy asked
Finishing a stolen bottle of water Tom responded ”I can try but it’s going to be slow”
“Well come on, with me then” Amy said standing up and holding out a hand to pull him up and then with a rifle each and he supporting his injured side they started to ease their way out and and away

They weren’t far away when they heard the sound of helicopter rotors beating the sky
“Fuck, faster Tom, come on!”
“I don’t supposed you’d consider going on ahead without me?”
Grabbing him trying to drag him faster Amy angrily said “don’t ask anything like that again, ever. I’m never leaving you”
“Ames… thanks… come on this way”
And then the roar of rotors drowned out all sound as the big helicopter passed over and a few seconds later slowed and spun around and suddenly a search light lit them up
Frozen and speechless knowing if they moved they’d be dead they watched as the helicopter slowly moved to the clearing. Spotlight and weapons directed at them
They both were looking for any opportunity to run or escape but saw nothing

And then a loud hiss followed by and ear shattered explosion and the helicopter spinning and crashing hard and loud into a nearby building and then swooping down and towards the clearing was a familiar helicopter with a squad of their own running out and towards them
It was surreal and soldiers supported Tom and pulled her along to the helicopter
Barely inside the turbines roaring and they were in the air, medics seeing to Tom and then the welcome surprise of Captain Harris slapping a headset on her so they could talk over the noise
“Corporal, it’s bad enough this calamity even requires ones as young as you to fight, but… just…. I sneaking off base like that”
“You know I couldn’t leave him!”
Captain Harris saw right through her, he admitted it, was even jealous.
“You’re safe now Corporal. Rest. We’re headed to our next area of operations… but you two need a damn hospital… and Amy”
She looked up at Captain Harris through her exhaustion
“Out-fucking-standing work. Look after him”
Amy turned around to see the medics cleaning and redressing Tom’s wounds and as she looked him in the eye… he hit her with that damn smile

Elara

Okay this was supposed to be the second part… still figuring out the order…

Survivors war pt2

“We’re going to make it, right?” Amy whispered to Tom, her voice shaking slightly as she tightened her grip on the knife.

Tom looked over, his eyes a mix of reassurance and exhaustion. “Yeah, we’ve got this,” he said, his hand reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. “We just need to keep moving and stay low.”

The helicopter’s wreckage was a mess of twisted metal and shattered glass behind them. The pilot lay still, a silent casualty of the chaotic landing. They had been on a mission to gather intel, but now they had to focus on their own survival. The thick canopy of the jungle loomed ahead, promising shelter from the unforgiving sun and potential dangers lurking in the sky.

Amy took a deep breath, trying to ignore the pain from her bruised ribs. She had always been the fastest and quietest in their unit, a trait that had earned her respect because she could move through the buildings and city structures unseen and without making a sound… but this was an actual jungle
Tom, on the other hand, was a sharp-eyed sniper, known for his precision and calm under pressure and he grew up in the woods and this was more his speed.Together, they had become an unstoppable duo, their bond growing stronger with each mission.

They ventured into the dense foliage, the vibrant greenery swallowing them whole. The hum of insects and rustle of leaves became their soundtrack as they pushed forward, navigating by the GPS on Tom’s wrist. The air was thick with moisture, clinging to their skin like a second layer. Every step was calculated, every branch and vine scrutinized for signs of the enemy or the ever-present threat of a trap. The weight of their packs, filled with the precious intel and their few supplies, seemed heavier with each passing minute.

As the day grew long, they found a clearing and decided to set up camp for the night. They had to be careful; light and noise could give them away. Using hand signals, they agreed to take turns keeping watch. Tom started the first shift, his eyes scanning the tree line for any signs of movement.

Amy sat beside him, leaning against a large tree trunk. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice just above a whisper. “For earlier.”

Tom glanced at her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “For what?”

“For… catching me,” she said, looking away shyly. “When we fell out of the chopper.”

The memory was fresh. The terrifying plunge, the sudden jolt of the parachute opening, and then the impact. He had been right there, catching her in his arms, breaking her fall. It was the closest they had ever been, and something had changed in that moment.

He turned to her, his expression serious. “Anytime corporal. We’re in this together.”

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the war felt a world away.
“Don’t call me that it’s so… unnecessary”
Tom shrugged and winked at her because he knew it annoyed her that
They were just two kids, lost in the vastness of the jungle, holding onto each other for comfort. But the reality was stark: they were child soldiers, armed and dangerous, and their journey back to base would be fraught with peril.

With a heavy heart, Amy took over the watch, and Tom laid down to rest. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission was going to be different, that their lives would never be the same again. But she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand. They had a job to do, and she knew she could trust Tom to have her back, no matter what the jungle threw at them.

The night was eerily quiet, save for the occasional distant howl of an animal or the soft hoot of an owl. Amy’s eyes never left the edge of the clearing, her senses on high alert. The moon cast a silver glow through the leaves, playing shadows across the ground. She thought about their life before the war, the stolen moments of laughter and friendship that seemed so far away now.

As the hours ticked by, Tom stirred, his hand reaching out to hers. “My turn,” he whispered, his voice thick with sleep.

Amy nodded, her eyes never leaving the darkness. “Be careful,” she said, her voice barely audible.

He took up his position, and she lay down beside him, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. Despite the circumstances, she felt safe, protected. They had always been there for each other, but now, it was more than just survival that bound them together.

Morning came with a symphony of bird song, and they packed up their camp quickly and quietly. They had a long day ahead of them, and every minute counted. They moved through the jungle with a newfound urgency, their steps swift and sure. The intel they carried was vital, and they couldn’t risk it falling into enemy hands.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, they stumbled upon a small stream, the water clear and cold. They took a moment to fill their canteens and clean their wounds. The sight of their blood mingling with the water brought a grim reminder of the battle they had left behind. But they didn’t speak of it; there was no time for nostalgia or fear. They had to keep moving.

Tom paused, his hand on his side. “I think we’re being followed,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing.

Amy’s stomach clenched. “How can you tell?”

He pointed to the ground. “Boot prints. Fresh.”

Her heart racing, she scanned the area. “What do we do?”

Tom’s gaze was steely. “We keep going, and we stay alert.”

They broke into a jog, following the stream as it wound through the jungle. The foliage grew denser, the air more oppressive. The sounds of pursuit grew louder, and soon they could hear the crunch of leaves and the snapping of twigs. The enemy was close, and they had to move fast.

Amy felt the burden of their mission pressing down on her, the weight of their escape. They had made a choice, and now they had to live with it. They couldn’t let the people who had sent them into this hell win by taking them out now. They had to deliver the intel, to make their pilot’s sacrifice mean something.

Tom’s hand was tight on her arm as they sprinted through the underbrush. “Stick together,” he breathed.

And together, they would face whatever the jungle had in store for them, hand in hand, as partners in a war that neither of them had chosen, but both were determined to survive.

Amy whispered “I hate this fucking jungle”
Tom smirked and responded “that’s because you’re a city girl and are used to this fight being building to building, not in the natural world… it is deadlier here I grant you… what we need to do is what the old revolutionary rangers did centuries ago and circle back around and ambush whoever is following us”
Amy nodded, it was better than any plan she had but then a thought came to her “How do you know about revolutionaries and rangers?”
Tom pretended to be offended and formal “my love I read you see, you should try it”
It may have been and offhand quip but Amy still flushed red and turned away. He called her “my love”… just an expression surely?
Amy started to move again, “come on, I’ll take point and we’ll circle back like you said to” Tom nodded silently and followed, scanning and listening intently for any sounds of danger ahead of them.

They moved through the dense vegetation, the heat and humidity making their clothes stick to their skin, every step a silent battle. The jungle was thick and unrelenting, a labyrinth of greenery that whispered secrets they could never understand. They moved swiftly, their instincts honed by years of training and the harsh reality of their lives.

Amy’s thoughts were a tornado, she had never felt like this before. The way Tom’s voice resonated when he said “my love” played over and over in her head. They had always been close, but it felt like something had shifted between them. Her hand reached for his and she felt his warmth, the comfort of his touch grounding her amidst the chaos.
They approached a bend in the stream, the perfect spot for an ambush. Tom gave the signal and they split up, moving silently to their designated positions. Her heart hammered in her chest, the anticipation of the fight to come a mix of fear and excitement.

Tom lay in wait, his rifle at the ready. He could feel the eyes on them, the unseen presence of their pursuers. His breathing was slow and deliberate, his mind focused on the task at hand. He knew that the intel they carried was crucial, but he also knew that their survival was just as important.
Amy crouched low, her knife gripped tightly in her hand. She could feel the energy of the jungle around her, the silent sentinels of nature watching their dance of survival. The rustling grew louder, and she knew they were almost there.

The moment came, and with it, the sudden burst of adrenaline. The enemy patrol stumbled into their trap, unsuspecting and unprepared. Tom took the first shot, a clean headshot that sent one of them tumbling into the water. Amy struck from the shadows, her blade a silent whisper as it found its mark.
The jungle erupted into a cacophony of noise, the peace shattered by the sounds of combat. They moved in a deadly ballet, each strike and shot precise and calculated. The enemy didn’t stand a chance against their honed skills and desperation.

When it was over, they stood panting in the clearing, surrounded by the fallen. The reality of what they had just done settled heavily upon them, but there was no time for regret. They had to keep moving, to deliver the intel and to survive.
They shared a look, a silent understanding passing between them. They were more than just comrades now; they were a team, a bond forged in the fires of war and strengthened by the whispers of a nascent love.
They looted the patrol, but only scavenged some weird looking rations and first aid supplies but abandoned the enemy soldiers weapons and ammunition, preferring their own and not wanting the extra weight - they make sure to scatter the enemies weapons into the jungle in pieces

They pushed on, the jungle a constant threat, but with each step they took, they grew more in sync, more connected. The war had taken so much from them, but in that moment, it had also given them something precious: hope, and each other.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, they stumbled upon an abandoned shack, a relic from a time when people lived and worked here in peace. It was a welcome sight, offering shelter from the night’s predators and a place to rest their weary bodies. They secured the perimeter, setting up simple yet effective traps from their limited resources.

Inside, they sat on the dusty floor, sharing the meager rations they had. The silence between them was filled with unspoken words, the weight of their newfound feelings palpable. Amy took Tom’s hand, her eyes searching his. “What happens after this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tom squeezed her hand gently. “We keep going,” he said. “We deliver the intel, and then we find a way out of this hell.” His voice was firm, but his eyes held a hint of doubt. They both knew the odds were stacked against them, but the promise of a future together was enough to keep them fighting.

The night was a symphony of strange sounds, each noise a potential threat. They took turns sleeping, but the line between slumber and vigilance was thin. When dawn broke, they set off again, the jungle coming alive around them. The path grew steeper, the vegetation thicker, but they pushed through, driven by a force greater than fear.

As they climbed a hill, the trees parted to reveal a clear view of the horizon. The base was in sight, a beacon of civilization in the sea of green. But with it came the stark realization that their journey was almost over. What awaited them at the end was unknown, but the thought of returning to the cold embrace of the war was unbearable.

Amy stopped, her chest heaving. “Tom, I don’t… I don’t want to go back to that.”

Tom turned to her, his expression a mix of pain and resolve. “We don’t have to,” he said, pulling her into a tight embrace. "We can keep going, find a new place, try find a new life… but so many depend on us, think of how many kids we’ve saved, families we’ve reunited”

Amy held tighter to him and nodded
Opening her eyes and looking at the base once more with determination, knowing Tom was right. They had to return, what they did was important for their people’s survival.

Tom gave her a squeeze “come on corporal, just think - hot showers!”
“Again, don’t call me that… but yes. Showers. Fuck me…I love hot showers”
Tom snorted at her words then laughed, deciding not to make the joke he could have
”Yes, yes you do don’t you”

And onwards to base, bodies and intel intact, Captain Harris will appreciate both, he always had a soft spot for us.

They began the treacherous descent, their legs trembling from the effort. The jungle grew quieter, the canopy above them thinning as they approached the base. The air was charged with anticipation and a hint of dread. As they neared the perimeter, the sounds of war grew louder: the distant boom of artillery, the whine of drones, and the sharp crack of gunfire.

The base was a fortress amidst the green, surrounded by a clearing that had been bombed into existence. The sight of it was a stark reminder of the world they had left behind, a world where children didn’t fight wars and love wasn’t whispered in the shadow of death. They approached with caution, aware that the enemy could be anywhere.

As they neared the camp, a figure emerged from the underbrush, weapon raised. “Halt!” the voice called out. It was one of their own, a young sentry barely older than Amy. Recognition flickered in his eyes, and he lowered his gun. “It’s you two. Thank God.”

Their reunion was short-lived. Captain Harris was summoned immediately, his face a mask of relief as he took the intel from them. He nodded gravely. “Good work. Now get cleaned up and then we’ll get you debriefed, after that you’ve earned a few days rest”

Amy and Tom were ushered into a small, sterile room. The showers were hot, the feeling of the water on their skin was a luxury they hadn’t felt in days. They washed each other, contact was supposed to be forbidden in the showers like this but at this point everyone turned a blind eye, they were too relieved to be alive to care. Tom seemed suddenly exhausted, the constant adrenaline wearing off. They were silent at first as they scrubbed away the grime of the jungle, but Tom started teasing her and making jokes about his own follies, making her giggle. It was a brief moment of intimacy, a stolen piece of normalcy in the chaos of war.

When they were clean, they donned fresh uniforms and sat before Captain Harris. His eyes scanned the intel, his expression unreadable. “This is… this is big,” he murmured, looking up at them. “You two have done something incredible.”

The debrief was quick and to the point. They relayed the details of their mission, the loss of their pilot, and the successful retrieval of the intel. Harris nodded, his eyes never leaving the documents. “You’ve done well,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion. “Very well.”

Amy felt a strange mix of pride and sadness. They had done their job, but at what cost? They had left behind a piece of themselves in that jungle, a piece that could never be recovered.

Tom broke the silence. “What now, Captain?”

Harris looked up, his gaze lingering on their joined hands before he spoke. “We’ll analyze this and plan our next move. For now, you two are on standby. Get some rest.”

They nodded, rising from their seats and exiting the room. The base was a flurry of activity, soldiers moving with purpose, the drone of generators providing an ever-present backdrop. It was a stark contrast to the quiet moments they had shared in the jungle.

Their tent was a small oasis of familiarity, a place where they could briefly escape the horrors of their reality. They lay side by side on their pushed together bedrolls. The air was thick with unspoken words and the scent of their shared fear and hope.

Amy rolled over, her eyes searching Tom’s. “What do we do now?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Tom took a deep breath, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek. “We keep fighting,” he said. “For each other, for those we’ve lost, and for the future we want.”

“Did you come up with that yourself or did you read that somewhere?” Amy asked smirking
Tom laughed “as always you caught me… it was a good line though right?”
Amy sighed “dramatic but yes a good line Tom, sorry you don’t have any hotties to use your lines on here”
“Ahh who needs hotties when you’re here”
“Omg you suck!” she started laughing as she planted an elbow hard into his ribs
Tom rolled with it, unable to stop himself laughing

Amy carefully stripped out of her uniform and folded and placed it neatly on her ruck sack with her underwear and pulled on a tank top and boxers, pausing for a moment before asking Tom “can I… I don’t want to be alone…”
Tom just finishing putting his uniform away also and just pulling on his boxers, his back to her turned and said “of course, always, just no knife in the bed thanks” and lay down on his bunk and pulled her close to him “i’m big spoon though, know your role corporal”
“Oh for fuck sake don’t call me…”
Tom snickered and Amy sneaked her knife under their shared pillow, feeling stop against his pistol… and then finally letting out a content sigh, Amy snuggled in before everything went black.

Elara

edited out the spicy, just have to figure out how to reconnect to the end part of that now

Amy

Wow so intense!!!

She had a sexy name