Alexander’s POV
The smoke from the burned houses clung to everything—clothes, hair, skin, breath. No matter how many villages I’d walked into after an attack, the smell always hit the same. It was heavy, sour, and final.
But this one was different.
There were more bodies. More injured. More people are clinging to life by a thread.
“Check the south homes,” I ordered the soldiers who accompanied me on this patrol. “Anyone you find alive, get them to the clinic so Joanne can take a look at them. Move.”
They scattered immediately.
I pushed deeper into the village, stepping over broken beams, shattered pottery, and streaks of blood that told me exactly how many had tried—and failed—to flee.
A faint cough came from the corner of a collapsed building.
I moved fast.
When I approach
