Angela shook her head and got to her feet, steady on the ground as she was in the air. She was tired, yes, but she would more properly rest when the time wasn't so dire. They needed to keep moving, and she wasn't going to slow them down.

"I can rest when we are safer. The wounded take my highest priority. The closer we get them to safety, the better their chances of recovery. Don't worry about me." She insisted. "Whenever you're ready, I'll be right behind you."

With that, she made a quick check over the wounded to make certain everyone was holding together. One soldier in particular was sitting against the wall, shivering and crying. He was a young man who'd suffered a leg wound. His left leg from the knee down had been blasted off.

Angela knelt down by the man. "Are you alright? What's the matter?" She asked. He hid his face from her, stammering something about not knowing if he could make the final stretch on crutches. His underarm was raw and starting to blister from the makeshift crutch that had been fashioned from wood and twine. Angela reached her hand forward and pressed it to the raw skin, focusing her healing on the area.

"You must gather your strength. Just one more trip and you'll be able to rest. Is your leg in pain?"

The young man leaned his head back against the wall, breathing shaky and resisting sobs. He was terrified, the poor thing. The atrocities they must have witnessed broke Angela's heart. She knew the cost of conflict like this.

"Let me take a look." She moved to check the half-limb, undoing the bandaging enough to check how it was healing. It didn't look well. It hadn't been amputated precisely, and the stitching that the others had done was a mess. Likely that they'd been rushed, with shaking hands and spiraling minds. She quickly rebandaged the wound. She didn't have time to sit and mend this.

"Come on, get up. You can do this." The blonde encouraged. "I will be here, if anything happens. I will protect these people with my life."

She stood up, and grasped the young man's hands, helping him up. Once he put the crutch under his arm, he looked her in the eyes.

"Why come here? Why assist the ESF? Our battles are all lost, our homeland is destroyed... Your talents are wasted on the doomed." He despaired.

Angela frowned. Just one of what were likely many that had lost all hope in this war. She placed a gloved hand on his shoulder.

"So long as no one gives up, Egypt will live. Cairo will live. The soul of a country lives not in its buildings, but its people. Remember that." She said before turning and walking away from him to check on others. She hoped that this ragtag group could survive the trek. Sure, she could do it. But she hadn't been through hell like they had. She hadn't had limbs sheared off by bullets, hadn't watched friends and family die.

Angela glanced to Fareeha. The Captain was putting up such a strong front. What suffering was she in? How was she holding up through all of this?