The girl looked at him for several seconds, then took it.
“Come on,” Colin said quietly.
She moved toward him.
Outside, the evacuation point had become crowded. Their own injured teammate had already been transferred for medical care. Leah received confirmation that he was stable enough for transport, information she repeated directly to Colin before asking him to help move the wounded opposing soldier.
Colin looked at her.
“You know I still hate this.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want a speech.”
“I’m not giving one. I need your hands.”
He looked at the man, then at the child holding the paper bird.
“Fine.”
They lifted carefully.
The wounded man cried out once. Colin’s jaw tightened, but his grip stayed steady.
At the transport vehicle, the child tried to climb in with him. A medic stopped her until seating and safety could be arranged. Panic crossed her face. The wounded man reached toward her, unable to rise.
Colin climbed into the vehicle first and shifted so there was room.
“Put her here,” he said.
The medic looked at Leah.
Leah nodded.
The girl sat where she could see her father. Colin remained beside them until the vehicle left.
Afterward he stood in the dust with both hands on his hips.
“Don’t tell me that was supposed to teach me something.”
Leah took off one glove and wiped her forehead.
“It wasn’t supposed to do anything. It happened.”
He looked toward the road where the transport had disappeared.
“My friend is still hurt.”
“Yes.”
“And that guy might have been shooting at us.”
“Yes.”
“We don’t even know.”
“No.”
