Eloise stepped carefully and quietly through the thick wooded area, a gun clinched tightly in her hands. Her eyes scanning the surrounding area looking for anyone that might be there to harm her. In the distance she could hear the ringing sounds of gunfire, which was nothing new since the war had been going for almost a year. The hot summer air hung around her like a hot blanket, leaving a sticky feeling on her exposed skin. She tugged at the collar of her button-down shirt, wishing that it was cooler than it was. Through the thick forest she saw the fresh spring that ran freely downhill. The woods brought a sense of peace to Eloise, as she lived alone in them, hidden from the fighting world around her.

Quickly, she took the jugs that hung over her back to the clean water and filled them up individually. Her eyes and ears observant for all events. The birds could be heard singing their morning songs, chirping melodious tunes around her. Above her the echo of fighter planes rang through her ears. They were near, she could hear it in the air.

Once she filled her water supply, she sat down on a nearby rock to rest her aching feet. Life was no longer the same. A sense of dread lingered in her melancholy heart, unknowing when the horrid war would end. She had no one left: No mother. No father. No friends. Everyone she knew disappeared when the Germans invaded the neutral country, calling it their own.

Although life had taken its toll on the people of Belgium, she made certain to have no enemies around since she was in the middle of them all. She could not take the risk of being murdered by someone based on the way her alliances fell, when in reality she was neutral on the entire matter.

She was jolted back to reality when the sound of machine gun fire blasted overhead, knowing that an aerial battle was taking place above her. In a haste, she took the gun into her hands and ran toward a thick grove of trees. She hunkered down behind a small bit of brush encompassed behind the trees, listening to the fighting taking place above her. Through the empty space of the naked tree limbs she caught a glimpse of the low-flying aircrafts, swirling and turning against the gray sky.

The echoing rumble of the fighter planes' machine guns rang in her ears vibrantly. She held her shaking hands over her ears in hopes to muffle the dreadful noises. Soon, she thought, the sounds would end and all would return calm, but at the moment they were ringing loudly. She could feel her heart pounding violently in her chest, feeling as if it could explode at any moment. When the silence came, a sigh of relief slipped from her dry lips.

Instantly, she returned to the stream and gathered the water containers onto her back. Mindfully, she started her fast walk down the dirt-worn path. Her feet carried her quickly over mudholes and bushes, while her mind constantly focused on her surroundings. Her keen senses remained on-guard for any soldiers that could appear at random along the pathway. In the distance she could see the outline of her small cottage hidden deep within the wooded forest.

She abruptly stopped at the entrance and placed the containers down beside the doorway before entering slowly. With the gun in her hand, she scanned along the entirety of the tiny single room. To her great relief, it was empty. She took the water inside and latched the door tightly shut, placing a chair under the knob. This was her life. Always hiding with the fear that someone was there...

The room fell into an utterly eerie silence. Something had happened—she could sense it in the stillness of the empty house. Hesitantly, she took the rifle into her trembling hands and approached the door. Upon opening it, she reluctantly poked her head back outside. She slowly began walking down the beaten path, following the light beyond the edge of the forest. Her heart pounded with each step she took, nearing the colorful outside world—a place she had seldom seen since the war had begun. In the distance of the sloping field, she could see a beat-up plane lodged upright in a deep bank. The damage she could not yet determine from where she stood. The red poppies of the field danced around the dark, fallen plane as a gust of hot, sticky air blew around her.

Something drew her to the carnage of what used to be an operating plane; what pulled her, she did not yet know. Although she had heard so much of the modern plane, she had never been so close to one before. As she passed shards of metal, she could not help but study the impressive machine. The dark blue paintwork on the front had been scraped off greatly during its violent descent back to the solid ground. She trailed her fingers lightly along the heavy metal rubble. She studied the detailed paintwork of a large black cross beside of a black spade, unsure of their actual significance. She slowly circled the area where the plane was crashed, stooping just below the wing and stared at the wingspan in awe.

It was then her eyes locked onto the aviator. She stared at him carefully, bound in a tight black leather jacket and cap. His face was mostly covered by bulky black goggles. No movements were visible of the stranger from where Eloise stood, looking into the tightly-spaced cockpit.

Her eyes lingered on the man. No apparent wounds were noticeable except for a large bleeding cut on the side of his cheek just below the edge of the goggles. She relocated to the opposite side of the plane to where she was eye level with cockpit. There she could see the faint visual of the man's chest rising and falling. A wave of relief came over her once she realized that he was, in fact, still alive. Quickly, she began to think on how to remove the man from his craft. She climbed onto the side of the plane and lightly shook the unconscious man.

"Sir," She softly spoke, rocking his latched-in shoulder. "Can you hear me?" No response came from the motionless pilot. A dreaded sigh escaped her lips. She was unsure of what she could do for the man, but she knew she had to retrieve him from the plane's rubble or it would be his coffin.

Without wasting anymore time, she began to search for the latch of his safety belt. Latched firmly against his chest, she undid it and instantly supported his body with her arm. The dead weight of his frame caused her to lean forward into the seat with him. With the closeness, she could hear the weak sounds of his steady breaths. He was still alive...

After several minutes of tugging and pulling, she managed to ease him from the single seat and place him flatly onto the ground. Her eyes scanned the sky hoping to see someone searching for him. Still, no one came for the man. She knelt beside him and unzipped the tight leather jacket that constricted his body. Beneath the black leather was a dull grey uniform, decorated with shiny pins. She knew in that moment she was aiding a German soldier—a high ranked soldier. She leaned back onto her feet and ran her fingers through her hair. What was she to do with a German man, she wondered.

Instantly, a feeling of uncertainty overcame her as she recalled the horrid stories of what the German armies had done to the Belgian people. Her mind beckoned her to leave the stranger there where he lay and let fate take him however it may. She had retrieved him from his modernistic grave, giving him a chance to live; and that was enough for her peaceful satisfaction.

She removed the oil-covered goggles from his square face, revealing rather youthful features. Carefully, she began to study him from head to toe, spying a small pistol tucked near the waistband of his pants. S cautiously took the firearm from his person and placed it beside her, assuring that it was away from his grasp.

Nearby laid the brown back of a photo that caught her eye. She took the picture into her hand and saw the stranger posed arm-in-arm with an elegant woman. The smiles on their faces were the first true smiles she had seen since the war broke out and they were forever captured. As she stared at the photograph, unusual feelings began to well in the pit of her stomach. She longed to possess the smile of true happiness once again, but how?

Her eyes looked back onto the man, who was shallowly breathing. There was nothing more that she could do for him, she assumed, and rose from the ground. Glancing back down at the photo in her hands, she placed it in the front pocket of his jacket and turned to leave. If he should die, she thought to herself, let him hold the one he loves close to his heart.

As she slowly walked away she heard the man began gasping for air, sucking violently through his gaping mouth. Eloise stopped cold in her tracks and turned slowly only to see the man trying to sit upright. He rested his hands over his chest and steadily breathed air into his lungs. A puzzled expression was written on his well-defined face. He pulled at the top of his flying cap, tugging it away from his head to expose a large graze wound on the side of his temple. Blood matted in his short blonde hair and smeared down his pale, stiff face.

Eloise knew that he was fated to die amidst the poppies if she left him there. No matter how badly she desired to leave him, she could not bring herself to do so. She slowly strode back to his side, holding her arms nervously over her body. His shock-filled blue eyes looked up at her sorrowfully. He remained silent as she stepped closer toward him, hovering over his body.

"Can you get up?" Eloise asked blankly, choosing her German words carefully. Shyly, she offered him a kindhearted smile and knelt back at his side. He stared at her blankly, giving only a silent response. She laid a single finger on her lower lip and thought to herself before speaking, "Do you think that you can rise, sir?"

He looked down at his body, laying perfectly flat on the sloped hill in the poppy field, before propping up onto his elbows. Desperately, he shuffled his legs around until they were bent at the knee. His breaths were steady as he tried to push the weight of his body up. No amount of strength he tried, he could not successfully rise.

Eloise continued to watch him carefully before scanning the area of the open field. The world was unusually still, leaving her with an uneasy feeling. Her paranoid mind went directly onto the thought of the enemies that could be lying in wait, watching her as she stood there unarmed and defenseless.

"Can you rise, sir?" She called out the German words once again, hoping the silent stranger would reply. He slightly shook his head, signaling no to her.

It was then the plans began to formulate in her spiraling mind. She had no idea of how she would assist the soldier from the exposed poppy field. She knelt down beside the man and pressed her hand against his forehead, checking his temperature to see if a fever was present in his body. He closed his eyes at her gentle touch. She could see the gash on his head was still bleeding. Against her desires, she reached to the white apron she wore and tore a large piece of linen from the square. She immediately tied it around his head in hopes to cease the bleeding.

In the distance she could hear the buzzing sound of planes approaching once again. Her eyes locked onto the clear sky, searching for the large objects to appear against the blue canvas. Eloise assumed that it was the other German aviators searching for their fallen comrade and she knew that she could not risk being seen by them.

"I can't help you anymore, sir." She spoke calmly, hoping that he had heard her blunt words. Hastily, she rose from his side. "I hear planes in the distance. I am sure they are coming to find you."

He tugged at the hem of her skirt as if he was asking for her to stay.

"I am sorry, sir, I can't risk being found." She said to him, kneeling down beside him once again. Her fingers brushed lightly against his perspiring forehead. "If it is not your comrades, they will not risk landing here on this ground since it is occupied by the Germans." She flashed a reassuring smile at him as a sense of guilt began to fill into her heart. The sound of planes was getting closer with every second and she knew she had no time left to waste. "Good luck sir." Her words rolled from her lips quickly.

In an instant, she was running back toward the wooded area, leaving behind the pile of rubble and the German aviator. She felt her heart pounding violently in her chest as she disappeared into the thick forest, hiding from the outside world once again. A wave of guilt came over her as she heard the low rumbling pass overhead. She could not tell if the planes had stopped or kept going, either way the pilot was no longer part of her concern. Soon, the night would come and the chances of being found was something she could not risk.

Eloise approached her cottage with great caution, looking around the forest carefully to assure herself no one was there with her. She entered into her house once again. Anxiously, she plopped down onto a hard wicker chair. Her mind instantly went back onto the man she had left. His startled expression was etched into her brain while the scene replayed in her mind. She could not get his picture out of her mind. The woman looked for her man to return, she thought, and it would be forever on her conscious if she let him die alone.

Everything in her mind told her to forget him, but everything her heart begged her to return to him and give him another chance at life. She wondered about his state of health and wondered if his German comrades had found him yet. All were unanswered questions and would remain unanswered unless she returned to the wreckage site.

She shook her head violently, trying to get the thought of him out of her shaken mind. It was on her conscious and she had to make it right. It was not in her character to leave anyone stranded at their death—enemy or not. He was still a man. A man who was loved. A man who was suffering. A man who was dying...

Thoughts jumbled in her restless mind. If he is still there and breathing, how would she get him back to her cottage? Her eyes scanned every aspect of the small, single room. They roamed over a rickety bed then onto a stone fireplace and the large black trunk beside it. Instantly when her stare focused on the table in the corner, an idea began to formulate in her mind.

In a hurry, she found an axe that she kept beside her gun and began her plan. Forcefully, she overturned the heavy wood and began to hack at the long, sturdy legs. Her eyes stared at the two long legs she held tightly in her hands, hoping her plan would work. With no time to spare, she quickly found an unused white sheet from a chest beside her bed and tied each of its corners onto the long wooden posts. She glanced down at the make-shift gurney, pleased with the outcome of the product.

A long sigh slipped from her chapped lips. What was she doing? She pondered the question multiple times as her eyes scanned along the room. It was quaint and empty. The fireplace remained unlit, while the unused water pails sat in the corner. Her once fancy table was now hacked apart on the dirt floor. She knew the rickety bed in the corner could not help a soldier recover if a wicker chair could offer a better night's sleep than it could.

Reluctantly, she shouldered her rifle and went toward the door, pulling the long gurney behind her. The pounding her chest made her wonder if she was making the right decision. With no turning back, she left the house once again. She studied her surrounding in great detail before trekking down the same path once again. As she came to the edge of the forest she spied the carnage of the plane in the distance. It stood out greatly against the red poppies that danced in the wind. She let out a dreadful sigh, unsure on what she was going to find when she made it to the wreckage.

Each step she made became heavier and heavier while her heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest. To her surprise, the stranger was not in the place she had left him, leaving her feeling incredibly uneasy.

"Are you here to finish me?" A hoarse voice startled her from nearby. She halted for a moment before turning around, only to find a gun pointing at her. Slowly, she eased the bed onto the ground and raised her hands in the air.

"No sir," She answered calmly, offering him a polite smile. "I am here to help you."

Pain was scrawled on the man's ghost-white face. She could tell his body was weak by the way the pistol trembled in his grasp, assuming that normally his hand would be steady.

"I-I," His words ended bluntly and his hand dropped to the side. He leaned his head against the bank of the ravine as his body slumped downward. In a matter of seconds, the man was unconscious and Eloise had drug him onto her gurney.

She stared at him for several seconds in silence, taking in his well-defined features. "Let's get you fixed up." She whispered to him, aware he could not hear her.

Eloise looked up at the cloudless sky, taking in the vibrant blueness—a sight she rarely seen in her secluded home. She appreciated moments of stillness when they appeared at random. Against her wishes she bade the peaceful sky goodbye as she entered back into the dimly lit forest, steadily pulling the stranger in behind her until they were sheltered by the forest. In her mind, she hoped she was making the right choice; but she would not know until the stranger regained his consciousness.