He was a young guard disillusioned by broken promises and naive stories of heroism. She was a nurse trying desperately to put a bandage on a wound regardless of whom it belonged. He caught her smuggling supplies, and when she turned, looking down the barrel of his gun, which he had pointed at her, their eyes locked. His hands began to shake. The shaking ran through his body, down his arms, and onward through the length of the weapon. He had never seen eyes so intense; they were fearless, yet there was a desire for life in them. Everything made sense in seeing her; the broken world was suddenly made whole again. She pushed the gun aside, stood, and, with trembling arms, embraced him. "Has spring arrived?" she whispered, her breath warm against his cheek. "The last of the snow has finally melted," he replied, barely able to utter the words.