The air reeked of iron and burnt linen as Clara Bennett pressed her palms against the cold steel of the operating table, her knuckles whitening. Outside, the distant thunder of cannons rolled over the field hospital, a relentless heartbeat that…
The air in the hospital tent reeked of iron and damp linen. Eliza wiped her hands on her apron, the coarse fabric scratching her palms, and glanced at the row of cots stretching into the dimness. A moan rippled through…
The air reeked of iron and damp earth as Clara knelt beside the cot, her hands steady despite the chaos around her. The surgeon’s blade gleamed under the flickering lantern, slicing through a soldier’s mangled leg with a sound like…