The moonlight was like water, gently spilling over the Mountain Ridge, the vast earth silent, yet a broad valley was flickering with lights, patrol teams scouting around noisily. The scent of blood filled the air above the valley, accompanied by a wave of sorrow, especially in the tent area where the groans and despair of wounded soldiers were heartbreaking. In this place lacking medical supplies, failing to treat wounds promptly meant disability or death.
A larger tent flap was lifted, and a doctor in a white coat came out, followed by a relatively slender female doctor, also wearing a white coat and mask. Both carried medical kits in their hands and proceeded under the indication of over a dozen armed guards.
