Arriving back at camp I stopped to check on the man with the gunshot wound. He didn’t have a fever and the swelling and redness of the wound were mi...or. I told his wife to come find me if he got a fever, or if the wound started looking raw and angry. Walking outside, I found the young man with the knife wound. I punched him on his good shoulder telling him he was going to have a big scar to brag about.As I walked up the slope, I realized that I had yet to eat today and I was starved. I went. The black streaks in her pupils deepen what would otherwise be a pale blue. When I look into her eyes, I see into myself. She shows me what I could be. Sibelius’s The Swan of Tuonela was playing as I lost myself in those eyes again. The tiny black streaks pointing toward her pupil. The fleck of golden candle light reflected in her eye as she looked at me—loved me.Lissa’s shoulders were elegant and powerful at the same time. I’d watched her in matches with other players at the club and you can’t. More

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