Hi all,

I wrote this small scene as an experiment. It features a man guarding the nursery in Nowa Avestia, the headquarters of the Resistance. Now, I will confess, it is a little self-indulgent as the name Wójek is what my Polish little goddaughter and nieces call me - it means "uncle". My heart melts a little when they call me that.

If I decide to include this in the story of Comes The Sandstorm, he'll only appear in this one scene, otherwise I think it'll become redundant.

Sorry I am not publishing so much of late. Bit of an injury issue that impairs typing, painting, driving, etc. at the moment, but I am on the mend!

Thoughts, commentary, and constructive criticism, as always, most welcome.

=====

The nursery hallway was quiet, its padded walls dulling the sounds from within. Wójek sat just left of the entrance, boots planted square, hands resting on his thighs. Fatigues crisp. Plate carrier in place. His rifle was mounted above, secured high on the wall, well out of a child's reach.

A woman arrived with a girl in tow. The child spotted him instantly.

“Wójek!”

She bolted forward and climbed clumsily onto his knee with. He caught her with one hand, gently but firmly, steadying her as she wobbled, then rested his palm lightly on her shoulder. The other hand stayed relaxed on his thigh.

He smiled. Just for her. A flicker of warmth behind a face built for silence.

Her mother returned his nod, quiet and grateful.

Another parent joined her, watching the scene. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment. “Have you ever seen him in civvies?”

The woman shook her head. “Not once.”

Footsteps approached. Another fighter passed down the corridor. Wójek’s expression dulled, the smile gone, replaced by the blank composure of a man back on duty. He gave a short nod to the soldier.

The girl hummed something tuneless, kicking her boots against his leg in time. He didn’t move. He just kept watch.