The Ranger's Refuge

The air hung thick with the scent of antiseptic and the rhythmic beep of machines. Private Kyle Blanton slowly opened his eyes, the sterile white of the hospital room blurring into focus. Pain radiated through his body, a constant reminder of the blast that had ripped his world apart. His sister, Drina, sat beside him, her hand a comforting weight on his.
“Hey there,” she said softly, her voice laced with concern.
Kyle managed a weak smile. “Hey, Drina,” he replied, his voice rough. The sadness in her eyes told him something was wrong, a heavy truth hanging in the air. His father, Beau, leaned in, placing a hand on his head. “How are ya feelin’, son?”
He knew the question wasn’t just about his physical state. It was about the silence, the missing faces. “As well as can be expected, I guess, pa.” He swallowed, the words catching in his throat. “How’s the rest of my group? How’s Eli and Spence? What about Brick and Gav?”
