Making Past Perfect
Alice’s heart ached, knowing that not everyone here would survive what was to come.
That night, as the group rested, Alice sat quietly near the campfire, her thoughts heavy. She glanced at Sadu, the young boy who had been trained to fight like the others. Her chest tightened as an image flashed before her eyes—a vision.
In it, Sadu was perched on a tree branch, a rifle in his hands. The air was thick with the sound of gunfire, and the full moon illuminated the blood-soaked battlefield beneath him. Japanese soldiers swarmed below, their faces obscured by the shadows, but their movements were sharp and deadly. Dead bodies littered the ground—friends and foes alike.
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