The Fallen Soldier

You remove the woman's apparently ineffective helmet, brutally split by some hostile blade, and look at her face, hoping to jog your memories. The woman is... was... young, maybe in her late twenties. Curly reddish-brown hair frames her face, which is hardened and battle-scarred, though not thoroughly unattractive. She doesn't look familiar, but she feels familiar.

Curious, you remove your helmet and examine your own face. You're young -- very young. You look as though you're in your mid-teens. You're surprised; this army must have recruited soldiers very early. Something seems... not right about that, as if you're supposed to be older. Odd. You have short, straight, dark brown hair and wide brown eyes that betray your feelings.

You put the helmet back on and return to the body, determined to find out what is going on. Who is this woman? Then a thought strikes you. Could she be your mother? You're certainly young enough, and she's almost old enough. No, you think, that's not right. Your sister? No. Friend? No, not that either. Argh!

You're about to give up when you see a piece of parchment hidden away in the woman's armor. That could tell you who she was, and perhaps who you are. Still, you feel kind of ghoulish. Maybe you should leave it alone.

1. You take the paper and read it.

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