part 7

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pt

an acronym, abbreviation or slang word of "physical training".

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walking was hard eventually. blisters littered his feet, and his legs burned from their use. harry had decided, after the army, he would saw off his legs and just get rid of them completely, eliminating ever going to war again, and also using leg muscles.

he morbidly thought if he was injured in the war, he would retire at the age the war ended and then he would never leave his home. he could be so seriously broken; he wouldn't be able to survive on his own. it was then he realised the war was already changing him.

hours of straight pt was too much. at least, coming from the skinny boy from cheshire. the boys from liverpool had little to no issue, devon boys had it easy, being all farmers and hard workers naturally, and london boys finding it rough.

one of the devon boys was talking about a horse he had back home, who his father had sold to the army, winning thirty five solid and was told by an officer that the horse would be returned to him, safe and sound. the boy knew it was all a lie when the officer who had bought him was killed in action, and his horse had either died or been taken to haul until he died.

harry felt bad for the devon boy, though he said nothing, as he too was worried of a best friend, possibly lost at war or dead, and neither of them knew which it was.

and as the boy missed his horse, harry missed louis.

they were not the same, though they were so similar harry started talking to the devon boy and told him of louis (without mentioning the truth of their relationship at all).

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