You are walking in a forest of tall evergreens. Nettles crunch softly under your footsteps. You hear ghostly cracks behind you, like thunder or gunshot—a frenetic flurry of notes from a tragic opera.

You are at peace.

Moments ago, you were racked with the guilt of desertion and rattled with the fear of the enemy. Yet it feels distant. You don't know why. You don't need to know why.

The mud caked on your face cracks apart as you curl a quiet smile. It feels like years have passed since you last smiled. You keep walking.

You brush your callused hands against the corrugated trees. You feel the fog nipping at your heels. There is a softness in your walk.

In the distance, a crisp light breaks through the forest's canopy. You see a clearing in the trees, and as you reach the tree line, you notice the fog cowering as it recedes into the forest.

In front of you, a group of kind faces greet you. But it's the smell of their clean clothes that is more striking. The smell of clean clothes—a smell forgotten by the battle-hardened. It's intoxicating.

The group folds around you. They reach out their hands to greet you, their calluses barely a hint of what they surely once were.

“Welcome,” says one.

“Welcome home,” says another.

A woman steps forward. “We've been waiting for you. There's so much waiting for you.”

And in that moment, clarity strikes.

“I know,” you say. You pause for a long moment, disbelief for the words you're about to utter: “There's something I must do first.”

You look down and softly rub your thumb against your calluses. The sun feels so welcoming to the backs of your hands. The smell of clean clothes is so intoxicating. And sleep.…

You take a deep breath. You smile compassionately, knowingly. You turn around and walk back towards the fog, the ghostly cracks waiting for you.

The others who fought by your side are still in there, still throwing futility and bullets against a row of butchered trees. They don't know why they're fighting, but they fight hard and fight on.

They are good people. You must bring them back home. The fog engulfs you and your knowing smile.

You'll be back.