Tasia adjusted her arm in the sling, The bag of chips were now empty and she sat the empty bag next to her. She heard the crumpling of leaves nearby and she went into defense mode. She drew her knife and hoped to her feet, "Who's there? I have nothing for you to steal." She said sternly. Tasia knew she was at a disadvantage and would not be able to defend herself. A man stepped out of the tree line she noticed he had his palms facing outward in an attempt to not seem threatening. But she kept her guard up. "What do you want." She kept her knife ready and kept her distance.<br/><br/>With every step forward he took she carefully looked around trying to find an exit route if need be. Since the war, people you came across were evil. Destined for hell and had no remorse. They would steal, lie, cheat, rape, and kill. Mostly they came in groups. The Rebels , they referred to themselves as. Tasia called them cowards.<br/><br/>They man had familiar essence but she couldn't place it. She waited impatiently for his response. All the while she couldn't help but look him over for wounds. Old habits die hard. In the infirmary you had to look victims over quickly and determine the best plan in a matter of seconds. Seconds was all it would take for someone to die. Tasia had felt the stress of knowing someones life was in her hands, the pressure and guilt when she lost them was sometimes unbearable. In the infirmary you became immune to the smells, sounds, and sights. The smell of death became the normal and the sounds of extreme pain. Faces woefully decorated with shrapnel and a man begging you to save him while you  knew there was no hope. All that had been her life and in all honesty, in this new life there was a sense of peace. Knowing that those people were safe.  Knowing that she didn't have lives resting in her hands. But she envied them. They were safe and in a better place. She could understand why she was alive.