Elias pulled his sweaty shirt from his back and handed it to her along with the meager remaining whiskey in his flask. Mila made busy by pulling the sleeve remnant from her pocket and tying it through one of the armholes of the shirt before dousing the rest of it in the remaining whiskey.
“Won’t have anything left to burn your shirt with,” Elias quipped.
“We’ll use the remaining fire from this one,” Mila said in all seriousness.
With a shrug, Elias used his only remaining boot to stamp out the cinders of the pathetic fire that still burned dully in the tunnel. The waning light relinquished to full darkness, and the two soldiers were for a moment trapped in a cold void once more. Elias heard Mila begin to strike her knife in the dark as he waited. Once. Twice. Three times.
By some unkno
