The people were frantic.The door of the SUV opened and a man exited the driver’s seat with difficulty. His wife/girlfriend got out of the other side...and rushed to him. The man knelt and held his side. Even from this distance the three lying in the field could see the dark patch spreading across his shirt. Apparently they hadn’t stopped because of a mechanical problem, but because the man was injured from flying shrapnel.The woman helped him to his feet, and they appeared to talk, trying to. In the wee hours of the morning, he dreamed.Most nights, he dreamed of walking and running, even dancing though he had never been one to willingly get on a dance floor. He dreamt of stairs and ladders, of new shoes and old boots. All the things he supposed that anyone who had lost a limb would dream about.He also had dreams about Kat. The way she smiled and ran her hand through her closely shorn hair. The sheer poetry of Kat in motion on the training mats, the way she moved from attack to. More

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