Groans and curses escaped from the tents of the two men. The women giggled softly at the familiar morning ritual. Sister Helena busied herself checking the coffee and preparing breakfast for the team. Soon, the men emerged, mess kits in hand, their faces marked by sleep and the crisp morning chill.
Once everything was ready, the team sat down to eat. Colonel Larkin took a cautious sip of his coffee, his eyes widening as a smile brightened his face. "Wow! Wonderful coffee! Who made this?"
"I did," Helena replied hesitantly, her tone betraying both timidity and lingering shadows of last night's nightmare.
"This is damn good coffee, Sister," Larkin exclaimed, his voice sincere and animated.
Helena hesitated but managed a small smile, her lips curving faintly. "It's made by my monastery. Our cowboy blend."