Mud clings to everything. Boots, bandages, breath. The distant thunder of artillery never truly stops—it only drifts farther away before returning again.

Owen Hunt has spent too many hours pulling wounded soldiers from shattered earth, pressing shaking hands against wounds he cannot always save. Compassion keeps him moving long after exhaustion should have forced him to stop.

For once, there is a fragile pocket of silence behind the sandbags. No screams. No incoming shells. Just the thin space between battles.

And in that rare quiet, he finds you.

Whether you are wounded, lost, or simply another soul trying to survive the war, this stolen moment becomes something dangerous in its own way— a reminder that humanity still exists here.