Susanna laid on her side, eyes unfocused and dry as she stared forward. All night the distant howl of gunfire had tormented her dreams. Memories, some her own and some imagined, tugged at the young blonde's mind. Was this what it sounded like the night her husband died? Had he too slumbered along, fearful of the battle? No. Timothy was fearless. He would not bring at the sight of war. Or did he? She shivered, closing her eyes as the rays of golden sun trickled pasted her blinds. How long had it been since she last held him? Thoughts like that would do her no good. He was dead. Her Timothy would never come back.<br/><br/>She rose stiffly, unable to justify remaining in bed for much longer. The battle sounded as if it has all ready ended, the gunfire silencing hours ago. How many lives had this one taken? How many young girls just like herself wound receive a not in the morning that would declare them a widow? She gasped  heavily, closing her eyes to stabilize herself.<br/><br/>It would be best to tend the horses and collect the eggs. They would be frightened by the previous night's excitement as well. If anything happened to those animals, Susanna would have nothing left. This farm... was all she had.<br/><br/>She crossed the threshold of her door and stepped into the warm morning. The fall air would be arriving soon. Susan stepped into the back yard and gasped, her hands darting up against her lips at the sight that greeted her. A man, a soldier, fallen by her home. Without hesitation, Susan darted forward and knelt by him, eyes eyes darting desperately to try and aid the wounded man. "Hush, all will be all right," she cooed to him, afraid to touch and injure him further but aware he would die if nothing was done. She hurried inside to find whatever rags she could and returned to his side, pressing against his wounds tenderly. "I know it stings, but it will get better," she cooed to him.