Obscurium

You open your eyes to blur and shadow. You’re on a stinking cot, in a tent hospital near a crumbling French mansion. World War I rages on the far side of the woods. You can still hear the shelling over no man’s land, far closer than you’d like. The handsome doctor tells you it was mustard gas. That’s not what you remember. There was a gas, yes, and a smell like rotten bread, but there was also a woman in gray, striding through the gasping soldiers and touching them each on the brow. There are so many wounded. Despite your damaged sight, you are able-bodied and have medical training. The fine doctor might never admit it, but he needs your help.