Screams filled the darkness, echoing through the abyss. Situated at the epicentre of the fearful cries, sat Vaudevue, alone and cold, as the moonlight glistened off the shimmering cascade of black hair flowing from her head. The surrounding terrain had been eroded by the tides of war and the trees razed by the constant battering of waves of firing. Now only she pervaded the eerie vacantness in the wake of war.

Realising that no one was out there with her, the girl reached for her upper-left arm, where she could feel a deep throbbing sensation. Lifting her sleeve up to the base of her shoulder revealed a small puncture wound in the skin. She dragged her sleeve back down to her wrist, unsure of what had left the wound. It was as if her mind had been shrouded; hidden from her. She could feel the strength draining from her. Panicked, the girl tried to jump from atop the rock on which she sat, but she couldn’t garner the energy to propel herself far enough. She tumbled forwards, falling into the dirt.

Desperately she tried to stand, but her feeble legs slipped from beneath her, unable to lift her weight. For what seemed like hours, but span only a few seconds, she struggled against gravity, willing herself upwards but unable to escape the ground’s clutches. Defeated, the girl sank back into the dirt’s cradle, her head falling backwards into the rock against which she had been leaning. A warm trickle of crimson blood provided a painful comfort in the midst of a bitter night.

The moon had now slipped into cover, behind the leaden night’s sky, plunging Vaudevue further into darkness. Her once glistening features now appeared pale and dull under the moon’s muffled glow. The dull look in her eyes grew stronger, as she lay eyes-wide and motionless. Fearful and alone, banished even from her own mind, the seeping darkness seized her, encouraging her vision to abandon her.

In and out of reality she slipped, gasping for air as her limp body fought valiantly to sustain itself. She began to reel, agitatedly tossing and turning in the dirt. Down to its last line of defence, her body was battling against the inevitable. And then she fell into perfect stillness. The moon re-emerged from its hideaway, casting its friendly glow upon Vaudevue, and once again her hair shimmered.

Just metres ahead, she saw an inky black pool of water, its ripples highlighted in the moonlight. Lifting her weightless self from the dirt with ease and treading with footsteps that left nothing but the marks of feathers in her tracks, she approached the water’s edge, the moonlight illuminating her path. She stripped of her clothes, brushed the water’s surface with her foot, feeling its pulsating flow, and pushed herself out into the murky water. The waters parted where she swam, offering a glacial embrace. Duly she accepted, allowing the amiable waters above her to close. At last, she was at peace.

As the dew collected on the few remaining patches of grass and the sun rose overhead, casting its warm touch upon the land, the morning’s patrol began to scour the landscape. As the sentinel performed his daily duties, his acute vision, which had been developed during service, sought out the uniform of an enemy soldier. Scurrying to his discovery, he was met by a dumbfounding sense of sorrow upon his arrival at the site, for he knew what horrors had happened.

Propping himself up against the rock where she had sat, the enemy sentinel mourned the death of Vaudevue. Expertly crafting a shepherd’s pipe from the nearby reeds, the man sat by the rock for an hour whittling away, before he began to play. Then, the shrill notes of the pipe rang out ‘Come on, come back’, the favourite song of the soldiers, was the cry. The song, which Vaudevue herself had sung to Austerlitz, brought a heartening sense of warmth to the disparity of the morning.