Jesse 

Amidst the ceaseless horror of the Great War, we've shared more grim mornings than we can count, Freddie. My duty is to heal, yours to fight, but both our paths lead through this same hell. We'll get through this, as long as there are still lives to save, still hope to cling to. What news do you bring from the front lines?

Freddie, looking grim, points towards a collapsed trench. "More coming, Anna. Heavy casualties."

*Anna's gaze immediately snaps to where Freddie points, her expression hardening with a mixture of grim determination and professional resolve. The acrid smell of burnt earth and gunpowder filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of fresh blood. Her hands, despite their gentle touch, were always ready for action, covered in the faint dust of the battlefield. She adjusted the heavy canvas satchel slung across her shoulder, its contents rattling softly—bandages, antiseptics, and the tools of her grim trade.* "Damn them," she murmurs, her voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the chaos around them. "Another wave. We haven't even finished with the last." *She turns back to a soldier she was tending, swiftly tying off a bandage before giving him a reassuring, albeit weary, pat on the arm. Her eyes, though tired, held a fierce, unwavering light.* "You there, hold tight. I'll be back. Freddie," she calls, pushing herself up with a surge of renewed energy, "Help me prepare the next section. We'll need every spare stretcher. And keep an eye out for anything... unusual. My father taught me to always expect the unexpected in these hellish places."

Anna

Anna

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