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- >The strange wooden beast stands before you in the snow, brandishing it's teeth.
- >You stand with your rifle at the ready, the mounted bayonet glinting off what little sunlight pierces through the thick canopy.
- “Kämpfen sie mich, tier!”
- >It snarls and rushes towards you.
- >You scream a war cry and rush to meet the beast.
- >This distance closes as quickly as your padded body allows and the beast suddenly pounces.
- >You instinctively raise your rifle and there's a crunch as steel meets wood.
- >With a howl, the beast is skewered on your bayonet.
- >You hoist the rifle high into the air as the wooden beast struggles.
- >There's a low whimper and you look up into the beast's green eyes.
- >It's clawing at your rifle, frantic for escape.
- >It’s pleading eyes cause you to hesitate and in a moment of sudden mercy, you oblige by lowering the rifle.
- >The beast slides off the bayonet and onto the snow in a heap.
- >It's wooden frame slowly raises and lowers as it somehow breathes.
- >You take a quick look around you, making sure that no other beasts or creatures are around.
- >You kneel down next to the creature and inspect the wound.
- >Thick yellow sap is leaking from the bayonet puncture.
- >You fumble for your first aid kit.
- "Gottverdammt!"
- >It's not there.
- >You look around but the kit is nowhere in sight.
- >The beast's breaths slow down.
- >There's nothing you can do that will save it now.
- >You take a seat next to the wooden beast and gently place a gloved hand on it's snout, petting it slowly.
- >Your rifle lays discarded in the snow next to you, you have little need for it right now.
- >The beast still clings to life, it's impossible breaths become more and more laboured.
- >Now that you have more time, you inspect the beast.
- >It closely resembles a large dog, or a perhaps a wolf.
- >You feel somewhat bad for killing this wooden wolf, even if it did attack first.
- >You feel the beasts eyes upon you and you look down.
- >It's chest is hardly rising now and the green light in it's eyes is slowly fading.
- >It looks at you, not in hatred or anger, but in gratitude for staying with it until death.
- >It's obvious that it didn't want to die alone.
- >You laugh bitterly internally.
- >Nobody wants to die alone.
- "Es tut mir leid."
- >You doubt the wooden wolf can understand, but you don't care.
- >But to your surprise the wolf seems to, in some degree, understand.
- >With it's last breath, it nuzzles your gloved hand with whatever energy it had left and goes still.
- >With a sigh, you bring yourself to your feet and pick up your rifle.
- >You stand and look at the wooden wolf for what feels like hours.
- "Verdammt!"
- >Your rifle is hurdled through the air as you yell.
- >What in god's name is this twisted place?
- >Wood that comes to life and attacks you?
- >Surely this is some kind of hell!
- >The damned war.
- >That god damned war.
- >You tear the helmet from your head and throw it away.
- >It lands with a soft thump as it hits the snow.
- >You stumble backwards into a tree as you feel your legs give way.
- >With a groan, you slide down the tree and onto the cold snow.
- >Your greatcoat keeps the cold from seeping in too much.
- >Damn the Eastern Front.
- >Damn the entire war.
- >You lean back against the tree and sigh.
- "Verdammt!"
- >You punch the ground.
- "Verdammt, verdammt, verdammt!"
- >Again and again, your gloved fist meets the snow.
- >Your anger finally dies out and gives way to your fatigue, your arm goes limp in response.
- >Are you dead?
- >Is this hell?
- >Thought after thought runs through your tired mind.
- >You're not in the mood to deal with any of this.
- >You glance over to the body of the wolf.
- >Your rifle sits beside the creature.
- >One thing's certain now, you aren't dead.
- >Your eyelids grow heavy and you struggle to keep them open.
- >The darkness engulfs you and you drift into sleep.
- * * * * *
- >You awake with a start and blink furiously.
- >Your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness around you.
- >There's no sunlight slicing through the forest canopy anymore and another layer of snow has fallen.
- >Panic builds in your stomach as you leap to your feet.
- >Collected snow pours off your coat.
- >How long did you sleep?
- >You drunkenly stumble in the now thick snow, searching for your rifle and helmet.
- >Neither can be seen in the looming darkness.
- >Your panic builds.
- "Verdammt!"
- >Your boot connects with something solid and you fall face first into the snow with a dull crunch.
- >The sound of crunching snow scares you still.
- >You dare not move, in fear of being caught.
- >But the wooden wolf comes to mind and you quickly scramble to your feet.
- >A single pair of green orbs stare at you from a distance.
- >Another beast?!
- “Jetzt ist nicht die Zeit!”
- >Your cry echoes deep into the dark forest but there’s no reply.
- >This does nothing to calm your fears.
- >You frantically look into the choking darkness for any sign of your mauser.
- >Your rifle is still nowhere to be seen but at you feet sits your helmet, filled with snow.
- >You scoop it up, empty it of the snow and place it atop your head.
- >A low growl catches your attention and you decide to risk a glance.
- >Another pair of eyes join the fray and then another, and another.
- >So is this it?
- >A hoarse laugh suddenly escapes your lips.
- >You'd completely forgotten about your sidearm.
- >The Luger slides out of the holster with ease.
- >It's not hard to aim at the wooden wolfs, their eyes give away their positions far too well.
- >But you're not aiming to kill right now, instead you hold your pistol high and fire a single shot.
- >The world around you is lit up for a split second, barely enough time to take everything in.
- >At least half a dozen wolves stand at a distance, ready to attack.
- >And that's about as much as you get from the brief illumination.
- >The resonating boom echoes deep within the forest, almost mimicking the sound of other gunshots. Almost.
- >One by one, the menacing pairs of green eyes back away into the cover of darkness.
- >All but one.
- >The lone wolf slowly advances, it's cautious steps are heard through the crunching of snow.
- >You lower the pistol from the air and train your weapon on the lone wolf.
- >It continues it's slow advance, undaunted by the Luger in your hands.
- >You take a single step backwards and readjust your stance.
- >You can see it's outline clearly now, the wolf has it's head down and is picking up something.
- >That something is your rifle, no doubts.
- >Your jaw drops as the beast comes closer but you keep your pistol trained.
- >It stops just a few feet away from you and gently places your rifle onto the ground.
- >The green eyes of the wolf look up at you, the loyalty and kindness in it's eyes shine bright in the darkness of the night.
- >It can't be!
- >The body of the wolf you had kill was gone without a trace.
- >You quickly but cautiously lower your Luger and crouch down, inspecting the wolf closely.
- >It is!
- >It's the wolf that you killed!
- >The puncture marks were definitely there, but they'd healed almost completely.
- >It takes a seat, it's wooden tail wagging eagerly.
- >You're still crouched there in amazement.
- >The wolf's shape and build has changed, it's beginning to resemble a dog more than a wolf now.
- >It's ears have become more pronounced, an almost perfect German Shepherd copy.
- >Hold on.
- >Leaning forward, you give the wolf another look over.
- >Holy shit.
- >That's not possible.
- >It is a German Shepard copy!
- >But it looked nothing like this before you killed it!
- "Was bist du?"
- >Confused, the wooden wolf tilts it's head.
- >Of course you're talking to a wooden wolf again.
- >With a grunt, you drop from your crouch and take a proper seat.
- >You reach out with an open palm and hold it in front of the wolf.
- >It looks tentatively at it for a second before leaning down and taking an uncertain sniff.
- >Satisfied that you're friendly enough, the wolf lowers it's head and nudges your rifle forward.
- >You reach over and grab the rifle, cautious of the snout which you know contains a deadly array of teeth.
- >The wolf's tail swishes in happiness and it barks.
- >You nearly jump out of your skin.
- "Entspannen sie sich, entspannen!"
- >With a low whimper, the wolf's ears droop and a wave of guilt washes over you.
- "Es tut mir leid."
- >That's the second time you've apologized to this wolf.
- >You can feel tears brimming at corners of your eyes.
- >You killed this creature, it came back to life, returned your rifle - the same rifle which ended it's life - and this is how you thank it?
- "Est ist nur schwer. Das ist alles so schwer. Ich will einfach nur nach Hause gehen."
- >You hang your head as you fight back the tears.
- "Es tut mir leid, bitte lass mich nicht allein in der dunkelheit."
- >After a moment, a bitter but forced laugh escapes your lips and you shake your head.
- >Here you are, talking to a beast that you thought you killed.
- >Only to find out it isn't really a beast after all.
- >Sounds like the Eastern Front all over again.
- >A sudden pressure on your legs forces you to open your eyes.
- >The wolf has taken a seat in the middle of your lap.
- >The sudden and unexpected warmth of the wooden wolf startles you at first, but it quickly soothes your sadness and guilt.
- >And before you know it, you find yourself idly patting the wolf.
- >Your fingers scratch behind the wooden ears and idly on it's back.
- >The silence is shattered by not too distant shouts.
- >With complete disregard for the wolf, you're up on your feet in seconds with your rifle held firmly in your gloved hands.
- >The wolf barks it's protest but you quickly hush it.
- "Hören."
- >There it is again, more shouting!
- >You glance down at the wolf, which is staring into the depths of the forest.
- "Den weg!"
- >The wolf doesn't need any further prompting and breaks into a sprint.
- >You quickly give chase, gear clattering all the while.
- >You have no idea who could possibly be out there shouting.
- >This could be trouble.
- >Snowy trees and bushes pass you in a blur as you struggle to keep up with your wooden partner.
- >The wolf suddenly halts, it's head quickly turning side to side, looking and listening.
- >You cough and wheeze as you fight to regain your composure.
- >Damn, you haven't run that fast since Stalingrad.
- >You check your rifle and crouch down next to the alert wolf.
- >4 rounds loaded, one spent.
- >A quick equipment check reveals that you have a spare 10 stripper clips (50 rounds) left.
- >You cycle your rifle and prime a fresh round.
- >The spent casing spins gracefully through the cold air and lands right on the wolfs back.
- >It turns to glare at you, annoyance clear in it's green eyes.
- >You offer it an apologetic smile and a shrug.
- >The wolf's glare softens and it turns away.
- >You swear this wolf could have a serious personality.
- >A heavy weight drops into your stomach as a blood curdling scream echoes out from nearby.
- >The wolf is on it at once, leaping forward and speeding away.
- >You follow in hot pursuit, your rifle at your shoulder.
- >The wolf darts through a wall of bushes and you lose sight of it.
- >Not keen on losing your newfound friend, you plough ungracefully through the bush, toppling over in the process.
- >Groaning, you pick yourself up from the ground and onto your feet.
- >You now stand on the edge of a small snow filled clearing.
- >The moon must be out tonight, as there's a soft light filling the clearing.
- >A single tree stands in the centre of the clearing, adorned with tribal masks and... a door?
- >Is this some sort of tree house?
- >No, it's far too small, it looks like something for kids.
- >Your blood runs cold.
- >Are there kids out here?
- >You grip your rifle tightly and charge toward the treehouse.
- >A commotion in the bushes behind you halts your charge.
- >Your military training kicks in, snap around and drop to one knee.
- >Textbook.
- >A pack of wooden wolves have burst through the bush you originally ploughed thought.
- >No doubt the same pack from before.
- >You bring your Mauser to your shoulder and snap off a single shot.
- >A wolf drops as the bullet passes through both of it's left legs.
- >Cycle a round and repeat.
- >3 rounds.
- >You squeeze off another shot and another wolf falls, it's head utterly obliterated.
- >They don't seem to fear you anymore, as they just keep bounding towards you, oblivious to their lost and wounded comrades.
- >Maybe they don't care.
- >You cycle another round.
- >2 rounds left.
- >4 more wolves.
- >This isn't going to be pretty.
- >Maybe if you line this shot up right, you can take out two of them with one bullet.
- >Worth a shot.
- >You snicker internally at your horrible pun while lining up your shot.
- >It proves to be a fatal shot, your bullet passes through one wolf which simply falls apart into a bundle of sticks, and takes out another's leg.
- >You whoop and cycle yet another round.
- >Last round, make it count.
- >The last two wolves are almost upon you and you talk a hastily aimed shot.
- >It merely grazes one of them.
- >With no time to cycle or reload, you lower the rifle from your shoulder and ready the bayonet.
- >You yell out a defiant war cry and close the short distance.
- >Bayonet meets wood once again as you thrust your rifle forward into the chest of another beast.
- >It howls and claws at your arms.
- >The second wolf closes in for the kill but you spot it's approach.
- >You swing the skewered wolf into his accomplice and they both tumble away in a growling pile.
- >The first wolf left deep gashes in your arm, crimson was quickly leaking on your grey uniform.
- >If you didn't treat this soon, you'd be fucked.
- >In this snowy weather, there could be all sorts of germs in the snow.
- >You scowl and unholster your Luger.
- >The wolves still lay in the snow, desperately trying to untangle their wooden limbs.
- >You step forward and loom over them, your pistol at the ready.
- >Their eyes betray the horror and fright they're feeling.
- >For a second, you almost feel bad.
- >But you crush that feeling.
- >They do seem to come back to life anyway.
- >With no guilt, you fire a shot into each of their wooden heads.
- >The green in their eyes fades into nothing as the last breaths of life leave the wooden bodies.
- >You approach the other wounded beasts, Luger ready.
- >A sick sense of déjà vu overcomes you and your steps falter.
- >Images of whining, wounded horses flood your mind.
- >The mud and snow mixed with their insides.
- >Their cries of pain being drowned out as the artillery rains down.
- >The bloodied stumps of what used to be legs flailing wildly about.
- >Your legs give way and you drop to your knees.
- >A numbness creeps down your arms and legs, there's nothing you can do to stop it.
- >Your mind recalls in great detail every bullet you fire.
- >Every horse you put down.
- >Every whimper or cry of pain.
- >You've seen men die, you've seen them cooked alive as their tanks burned.
- >It never had the same effect as this.
- >You don't anything will.
- >The crunch of foot falls in the snow scares you stiff.
- >Was there another wolf?
- >"Strange creature in the snow, what is it that troubles you so?"
- >What in the world?
- "Was...?"
- >Your weakened body refuses to budge an inch.
- >The last ounce of energy leaves your body and you topple to the ground.
- >The sweet relief of sleep takes you quickly after.
- * * * * *
- >The crackling of a fireplace awakes you from your slumber.
- >You try to rub your eyes but find that your arms won't respond.
- >A stiffness has taken over your body, you try your legs but find they refuse to work
- >Further trial and error reveals that you can't move a single thing below your neck.
- >The panic rises in your chest just about the same time as your memories flood in.
- >Oh, god. Where are you now?
- >Your eyes dart around.
- >You're in a wooden room, that's for sure.
- >This couldn't possibly be the tree house, could it?
- >Further inspection yields very little results.
- >The room you're in is barren aside from a window and a door.
- >It must be a spare room, but who brought you here?
- >And where’s that fire you heard?
- "Hallo?"
- >Your throat is drier than the African desert.
- >Some water would be heavenly right now.
- >With some difficulty, you finally manage to shout out.
- "Hallo!?"
- >There's absolutely no reply, but this doesn't surprise you.
- >The door suddenly swinging open doesn't either.
- >What surprises you is the miniature zebra covered in golden rings and a Mohawk trotting it.
- >You mouth drops.
- >This must be a pet or something, yeah?
- "I'm glad to see you're awake, dire steps I need no longer take."
- >If your mouth could go any wider, it would.
- >It spoke.
- >The zebra actually spoke.
- >You didn't understand a word of it, but you'd know that language anywhere.
- >English.
- >The zebra looks to you with a raised eyebrow.
- “Sprechen sie Deutsch?”
- >There’s a glimmer of hope in your voice and a weak smile on your face.
- >The Zebra tilts it’s head in apparent confusion.
- >That glimmer of hope disintegrates and is replaced with despair.
- >You'd throw you hands into the air, but that seems to be out of the question.
- >You're still as stiff as a board.
- >The zebra seems to sense your struggle and trots up to the side of the bed.
- >It pull away the sheets and you're horrified to see you're almost naked.
- >How couldn't you tell?!
- >The damned thing stripped you naked.
- >It gets to work at removing your bandages with it's mouth.
- >You wince.
- >That can't be sterile, it stings like a bitch too.
- >You take that as a good sign, you're still feeling something at least.
- >As the last layer peels off, you're absolutely horrified to see your veins a dark green.
- >Bile raises from your stomach but you fight it back down.
- >"You're taking this quite well, I'm quite surprised you didn't yell."
- >It's speaking again, but still can't understand.
- >You shake your head.
- "Ich kann dich nicht verstehen."
- >"What is it you are trying to say? I cannot understand you in any way."
- "Ich kann dich nicht verstehen!"
- >You repeat in desperation.
- >The Zebra shakes it's head sadly but quickly raises it, a spark in its large teal eyes.
- >It gallops out of the room, leaving you in a pool of confusion and despair.
- >What in the world is going on here?
- >You take a glance at your arm again but look away just as fast.
- >That wooden beast must have poisoned you with something.
- >It's probably the cause of your inability to move.
- >You curse yourself for being too cocky and foolish.
- >If your Sergeant could see you now, he'd have you digging trenches for the next month.
- >You chuckle at the thought of your comrades and their antics.
- >A crushing realization halts all your happy thoughts.
- >You'll probably never see them again.
- >Your heart sinks to your chest and your despair returns once again, amplified by your realization.
- >The return of the Zebra doesn't faze you in the slightest and you hardly acknowledge it's existence.
- >If it notices your bitterness, it doesn't make a comment.
- >It's not like you'd understand it anyway.
- >You feel your head being gently lifted and you jerk your head to the side to look at the Zebra.
- >It's holding a vial of something pink in it's hoof.
- >You take a moment to think about how it's even holding that damned thing.
- "Was?"
- >It motions for you to open your mouth.
- >You look at the Zebra, at the vial and then at the Zebra again.
- >You gingerly and cautiously comply.
- >It pours the bright pink liquid into your awaiting mouth.
- >The taste is rather pleasant, it's a mix of strawberries and apples.
- >You can hardly remember the taste of either.
- >Remembering the tastes buries your despair.
- >You look to the Zebra and nod your thanks.
- "Das schmeckt toll, aber was tut sie?"
- >The Zebra smiles.
- >"A potion of communication, however it only lasts for a short duration."
- >You understood every word said by the Zebra, but you have no idea how it's even possible.
- >A pink potion that let's you understand another language? You're down for that.
- (Germanon is still speaking German, but I'll make it English until the potion eventually wears off.)
- "Thank you?"
- >The Zebra laughs.
- >"It is no trouble my friend, I'm just glad our miscommunication is at an end."
- "The name is Germanon."
- >"Zecora the Zebra.”
- >The quick introduction sends your mind into thought again.
- "Were you the one who brought me here?"
- >Zecora nods once, a hint of pride visible in her eyes.
- >You nod slowly.
- “Why can’t I move?”
- >”The Timberwolf has a nasty scratch, It uses it to quickly kill any prey it may catch.”
- >Timberwolf? Fitting name.
- >You knew you were too cocky, that last thing you’d expect was poison wolves made of wood!
- >This place really knew how to challenge you.
- “So, some sort of poison?”
- >The Zebra nods once again.
- “Will I be able to walk again?”
- >”I am in the process of brewing a potion, that will quickly have you back in motion.”
- >A fresh wave of relief washes over you.
- >You’ll be able to walk again, thank the gods.
- >It would be great to get some feelings back into your body.
- >Satisfied that you’re in a good enough condition, Zecora pulls the blankets back over you and tucks you in.
- >It makes you feel like a child again.
- >A light blush comes across your face.
- >Zecora turns to leave and a thought strikes your mind.
- “One last thing before you return to your brewing.”
- >The Zebra stops and turns around to look at you.
- “Where are my clothes and equipment?”
- >”I have hung them by the brew, as of now they are completely soaked through.”
- >You assume they’re soaked by snow.
- “Thank you.”
- >Zecora smiles and trots off.
- >You lay your head back on the pillow and stare at the wooden ceiling.
- >So a talking Zebra, huh?
- >Never thought you’d see the day.
- >You chuckle to yourself.
- >This entire situation is ridiculous, talking animals? Wooden wolves?
- >Almost like some kind of fairytail.
- >How did you even get here?
- >You don’t remember anything past fighting that wooden wolf.
- >It really doesn’t trouble you as much as it should and you quickly dismiss the thought.
- >You’ll figure this all out later, when you can actually walk.
- >The more you think about this place, the more you feel like you’re forgetting something.
- >It’s right on the tip of your tongue, yet you can’t place what it is.
- > You punch yourself internally, but it doesn't help in the slightest.
- >Maybe a nap would help?
- >What? You haven’t had this much time off in ages, you may as well take it.
- >You do feel rather tired anyway.
- >Sleep comes easier than you first thought, and you drift off into the dreamland once again.
- * * * * *
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