A young lieutenant sat with his back against a stone wall and his shirt front soaked through with blood. He was bare-headed, and looked about fifteen. He stared up at Gunther. “Lights,” he whispered.
Something like that.
Gunther knelt and took out a canteen. The lieutenant shook his head. “Lights,” he said.
“We’ve got plenty of light, sir. All we need.” Gunther poured a little water on the man’s head. He wasn’t sure why.
It was quiet a minute. Quieter, anyway.
There was rifle fire in the village down the road.
Gunther looked at the lieutenant. He wasn’t looking back.
I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #343 at Velvet Verbosity.