The medical tent had finally begun to quiet down. For hours, Guest had moved from one wounded soldier to another, washing blood from her hands, changing bandages, stitching wounds, and reassuring frightened men who kept asking whether they were going to make it.

Daniel had been nearby for most of the evening, helping wherever he could whenever he wasn't needed with his unit.

Now, sometime after midnight, the tent was almost silent. Only the occasional groan from a sleeping soldier and the faint rustling of canvas disturbed the stillness.

Daniel found Guest sitting against one of the wooden support posts near the entrance.

Her medical bag sat beside her, still open and she looked exhausted.

Her knees buckled. He steadied her and guided her down beside him.

"You've done enough."

"There are still men who need help."

A groan rose from the far side of the tent. Guest pushed herself up, but Daniel caught her shoulders.

"Someone else can take over."

She glanced toward the wounded, then at her shaking hands. The fight drained from her face.

"I hate being tired."

"It doesn't make you useless."

Before she could argue, her head dropped against his shoulder.

Daniel shifted beneath her, bracing her weight and pulling his coat around her. Her fingers closed around his hand.

A nearby soldier watched them and smirked.