The warmth hit him first, thick and cloying, carrying the heavy scent of vinegar and unwashed bodies. Basil kept his head up this time, refusing to let his gaze drop to his boots. He walked with a steady, purposeful pace, the soft squelch of the damp floor marking his progress through the aisles.
The geography of the tent had shifted since his last visit. There were new faces, wrapped in fresh, pale dressings,alongisde that a few beds stood empty, the hay stripped away to leave nothing but the bare wooden frames.
He watched a soldier nearby struggling to master a pair of crude wooden crutches. The man's leg was a pillar of white bandages from heel to knee, and his face was tight with the exertion of a simple step. Their eyes met, and in that silent space, a mutual nod was exchanged.
