It wasn't a big funeral. We went outside the village and burned Henry's body on a small fireplace. We laid his ashes on a small log and watched them fly away in the wind. It was quite sentimental and I don't want to do it again. We are officially five boys down and we cannot spare anymore. I cannot stop pleading that we stop losing our comrades so often. It has begun to get very disheartening. Maria clung to me while we burned his body. I figured that death was not a common thing in the village because she was trying her very best not to cry. We had told the boys of Henry's death one at a time to try and consolidate them each. I was told to do this by a medic at the village to make his death less of a hard hit.

  When we came back I was told that there was someone waiting for me there. It was Lana. She was very sick. I checked more than once and she was indeed not faking her illness. I tried my best to treat her with what they had, but it wasn't much. All any of us can do it pray she gets better overnight.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  I told Maria of this and she remarked, "She's sick. Well, good!"

  "Maria, be nice. She is a person too. Besides, I'm not much in the first place," I answered. She rebuked what I said and told me that she loves my accent.

  She cannot stop with the compliments. Perhaps it is because I am foreign. In truth, I don't mind them one bit. I love her and this village. I am more than conflicted. What would happen if they asked me to stay with them? My heart will say yes; there is nothing left for me in France or the majority of the western world. But my honor will say no. I cannot abandon my people. What will happen if we do not continue this quest?