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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/482618-Juniper
Rated: E · Short Story · Military · #482618
War had taken his country from him, and now everything else.
The sky was a crystalline blue bedecked with small, light fluffy clouds. A soft breeze blew through the trees decked out in there autumn finery. Sunlight shone warmly down on a small party clothed in black. It moved slowly along, in no hurry to the casual observer. If one looked closely, however, they would notice the faded black was the worn uniform of the Nations soldiers, and that six of the eight bore a slim coffin. A priest led the procession, his black robes somber against the soft green grass.

There was only one other in the party, a young man, hardly more then a boy. His uniform was rumpled and his black hair was longer then a soldiers should be. He walked slightly out of step with the others, as if he could not quite stay on the same stream of thought.

The war was over. Peace was installed in the land and everyone - everyone - was happy. That was what the new government had said anyway. He didn't think so, but the opinion of a soldier, especially the opinion of a soldier that had fought for the defeated side, mattered to no one.

The final battle had been only three days ago. Three days ago, Juniper was still alive. She had taken to the war better then most, with an uncanny knack of knowing when to shoot and when to run that had kept her alive for her three years on the battlefield.

It had been friendly fire, in the end, that killed her. A stray bullet had got her in the back and after that there was little else that her could do but watch her die - the medical faculties were overwhelmed.

'No relationship above or beyond that of a normal working relationship.' A rule that had been steamrollered into you from recruitment. It was the thing that stopped him, the stupid thing that stopped him, from saying those three words.

He swallowed repeatedly as she was lowered into the ground. The six men bowed their heads as last words were spoken over her final resting place. The dirt was shoveled back into positon, and all present gave a salute. Then the priest and the coffin bearers retreated, their services needed for yet another burial.

He fell to his knees then, in the freshly turned earth, and stared blankly at the tombstone that marked the legacy that she had been. And the forbidden words came out, a mere whisper.

"Juniper. I love you."
© Copyright 2002 Coraminta (fire_spinner at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/482618-Juniper