Timothy Wayne laid gratefully on the soft, cool grass in the side yard of a small clapboard church– a rare event in itself– plunged into a deep, subtle slumber.
The night was particularly hot, coupled with the metallic smell of blood and the strong stench of urine and vomit in the air.
The churchyard wasn't particularly small, yet there was so many wounded, such an impossible number, that they spilled out of the crude sanctuary to lie in well arranged rows on the grass.
After operating for more than 12 hours straight, Timothy had picked a pretty good spot, a little bit high off the ground to stretch out on.
There was not a single day that went by, when he wasn't tempted to lay down his surgical equipments and head back to his home in Weston. But he couldn't.
He couldn't leave the wounded, no matter what color of tattered uniform they had on. Even though the other doctors refused to treat "the enemy."
However, Timothy's fitful slumber wasn't meant to last, as something awakened him in the early hours of the morning. Something far more subtle and eerie than the cries and moans of injured soldiers.
Fatigued and despaired, Timothy lifted himself into a sitting position and scanned the entir church yard from right to left. Aside from the occasional shivering of one or two patients in their inadequate bedding, Timothy found almost nothing.
There was no notable movements in the entire vicinity, and the place was as still as a graveyard. Well, almost. Just as he ran his eyes through the yard, he caught something off the corner of his left eye.
Timothy came back from his scanning and squinted to properly check the area which he had earlier checked, though with wearied eyes.
Something was a bit different. He now felt this fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach, made up partly of confusion and partly of fear. After carefully rubbing both eyes, he ran his bloodstained fingers through his dark hair and strained his tired eyes.
And then he saw her.
Moving so gracefully between the rows of neatly arranged fallen soldiers, she seemed like a creature made of moonlight. With her pale gown, sewn of some sort of shimmering fabric and her ebony hair which tumbled down her back in a lush cascade, she seemed to float in the moonlight.
Mystified and certain that he must be hallucinating, Timothy rubbed his eyes once more to be sure of what he was witnessing.
The lady which was meters away from him couldn't have been one of the good women of the town, who had tirelessly been assisting him with the treatment of injured soldiers of both sides, since the terrible battle earlier in the month. None of them would have worn something so impressive into the midst of such overwhelming filth.
Was this an Angel, then? He wondered, as he pondered for all possible explanations to describe the being which was some distance away from him.
There had been stories of a beautiful guardian spirit who came in the night and gave nurture and comfort to those who were closest to death. Of course, this were all stories of the sickened, injury riddled, helpless boys who had been away from their mothers, wives and sweethearts for far too long.
Narrowing his eyes again, trusting neither his vision nor his thinking, the woman did not vanish as he had expected. Instead, she knelt beside a sorely wounded soldier and drew him tenderly against her bosom, her glorious hair, seemingly spun from the night itself was like a veil, hiding the lad's head and shoulders from view.
All the more confused, Timothy scrambled awkwardly to his feet. "You there," he said in a calm but loud voice. "What are you doing?"
Immediately, the creature raised her head, her face pale and glowing in the silvery wash of the moon. The boy laid motionless in her arms, his head back in utter helplessness, with an expression of relief in his features.
Seeing this, Timothy knew, even from that distance, that the soldier laying there was dead.
Swayed slightly from weariness and hunger, Timothy started down toward the woman. She laid the young man on the grass with infinite gentleness, bent to kiss his forehead and then rose gracefully to her full height.
Just as Timothy drew nearer, she raised both arms to the air and clasped her hands together, high above her head. For some seconds, she was afloat, long enough for Timothy to see her clearly.
However, she gave the astonished physician who was now close but still some yards out, one brief, pitying smile and vanished like vapor.
Timothy shaken, gaped, terrified that he was at last losing his mind after spending so much time, operating on soldiers who had condemned to the hands of death.