Note - This is a free-style writing. Grammar and spelling may not be up to par, since I’m trying to get in the habit of writing again.
In addition, none of these events are factually correct. This is just a fictional story that somewhat deals with a war overseas. None of these characters are real and none of these events are real either. I’ve had to change the names of locations, so this is an entirely fake world. I’ll be making it up as it goes. :)
The Red Soldier, Caedmon Mikhailov, noticed the young man stirring in his sleep, on his mattress. They were inside a massive tent that had an air conditioner, light, heat, and some piping for water. Caedmon removed the black mask from his face, peeling it off.
He took a step forward and leaned over to Andriy, who was sweating profusely and suffering from a high fever. Caedmon removed his military jacket and his gloves; he had on his white, muscle shirt and camouflaged pants.
He sighed out in disgust at Andriy.
“You better not fucking die on me...” he whispered, getting a cold, wet rag from one of his coolers.
He placed it over Andriy’s forehead and gently patted his skin. Caedmon couldn’t help but stare at Andriy’s partially open shirt, seeing how sweat was rolling down his neck and chest. It looked like he would have no choice but to remove the young man’s clothes. Caedmon knew Andriy could die from a high fever alone; he grabbed the sheets and yanked them off quickly.
“Father...” Andriy said, in his feverish state. “Don’t go...”
Caedmon saw the tears trickling from Andriy’s eyes. He then tilted his head in amusement.
“Is he crying?”