ISLA
Dawn is three hours away. The medical station is as prepared as it's going to be.
Twenty cots. Surgical supplies. Antibiotics. Pain medications. Dr. Wickham's healing poultices. Everything I could scrape together or steal or accept from suspicious sources.
It won't be enough. Not even close. But it's what I have.
I check equipment one more time. Sterilized instruments. Organized supplies. Evacuation routes marked in case the station gets overrun.
Preparing to save lives while knowing most will die anyway.
"Isla?" Marian appears in the doorway. Eight months pregnant. Pale. Sweating.
"What's wrong?"
"Contractions. Started an hour ago. They're getting closer." She grips the doorframe. "I think the baby's coming."
No. Not now. Not three hours before battle.
"How far apart are th
