10:23 AM September 13, 1759

And the sound. It filled his ears, the space around him, his very existence. He couldn’t tell where it came from, only that it was everywhere, glowing in warmth and richness as much as the sweeping edifice did before him. He couldn’t feel the grass beneath his bare feet, couldn’t feel the wind that blew it in shining green ripples past his legs. There was only the warmth of the sound and the light that bathed everything. The light, like the sound, was everywhere. If you stretched out a hand, you could pinch it between your fingers, take a strand of it, and feel its soft pliability.

“General! General Wolfe! Henderson, send for the surgeon. Here, hold this. Help me get his coat open, damn you! General, can you hear me?”

Wolfe let the light go, watched as it blew smoothly over his shoulder, and turned his face towards the direction of the wind and light once more. He smiled, closed his eyes, let it pour over him, across his chest, back behind him, through his fingers.

“Here, let me see. God, why now? He’s not breathing – lay him down to get the pressure off of his chest. General! Give me that dressing. We’ve got to stop this blood flow.”

Eyes still closed, Wolfe listened to the sound, letting its warmth, like the light, wrap around his body. He turned around, back to the wind now, and still it poured over him, through his hair, across his face.

“General Wolfe! Can you hear me? We’re loosing him!” And then off in the distance, but closer… “Sir! Sir, they run!”

The blast of wind nearly threw Wolfe off his feet. He felt it that time and opened his eyes widely. “Who runs?” A gray face bobbed before his eyes, blocking the sun for a moment, words slurring amongst the noise, yet blatantly distinctive. “Sir, the French run! They give way everywhere!” Looking past the gray blur towards the shining horizon, Wolfe nodded, frowning slightly. “Go, go to Colonel Burton. Tell him to move Webb’s regiment down to the river and cut off the retreat from the bridge.” He wondered whether the words would be heard or swept away on the tide of wind and sound. They must have been heard for he was blinded once more by the sun, spreading its golden warmth across his body. He paused for a moment, wondering whether it had been thorough, whether he should have been more precise. No matter. The French were in retreat. It would be taken care of. And with that thought, he smiled and continued on his journey.