Authors: Len Gilbert
“One of these days. We’ll get back there. Back home,” Meiss said to Kasha.
For now, their new ‘home’ was a hideout on the other side of the gully.
“Keep running. You can bet they’re behind us,” Reince interrupted.
Kasha looked back. If the Grimeskins were there, Kasha didn’t see them. They would soon be at the gully, where he and Reince would be plotting their next move against the Grimeskins.
“Do you see that?”
Kasha spotted a bad omen. Far ahead of them, the large, warrior Grimeskins were pushing through the sunflowers, with their backs turned to the wolves. That meant the monsters were already in Shattered Paw territory, on the other side of the gully.
“Get down!”
A hand ax flew at them and narrowly missed Kasha’s head. Two wolftaurs leaped out in front of them. A green ax thrower rode atop each one.
“Now we got you… I knew we’d finally get them, boss!” One of the throwers screeched out.
“There’s nowhere to run now, wolfies! This land is all ours!”
“Kasha. Meiss. Run off,” Reince whispered.
“But—”
“Just go. It’s the only way.”
Reince took the blood-stained hand ax and flung it at one of the throwers. The wolftaurs leaped at them and Kasha took off with Meiss toward the precipice.
“Don’t look. Don’t look, just go,” Kasha said to Meiss, and pulled him down. Within a moment Reince’s screams echoed all through the bottom of the narrow valley, following them as they ran. It went on for minutes.
“Gods damn what are they doing to Reince…” Meiss cried out.
“We can’t… We… We just keep going. Keep going and forget all this,” Kasha found himself answering.
The two of them sprinted through the seemingly endless gully until the sun began to sink.
“Come on, stop,” Kasha broke their silence. “I can’t go any further.”
It had been hours since the two had spoke. Meiss nodded and sat down on a flat rock.
“Kasha? I don’t mean to say anything, but where are we going?”
It was a fair question.
“Well. I heard if we follow this gully it eventually leads to the forest wolves. Somewhere. Not sure where.”
“…And that’s where you think we should go?”
“Yeah. I do. You don’t have to come with if you don’t want.”
“…Just kind of hard to leave the only place I’ve known.”
“It will be harder for Grimeskins to find us in the woodlands. Maybe we can organize something there. Find others.”
“Maybe.”
“Should be more food there, too. I haven’t eaten all day.”
The two wolves picked themselves up and continued down the gully. Trickling water piqued Kasha’s ears, and the source was soon revealed to them: The mouth of a tiny stream. He looked into the distance and saw the stream widen out from his vantage. Moonlight bounced off the dark, churning water.
Kasha dipped his paw into the briskly-moving stream. Growing up, he’d heard several times that the way to the forest wolves was to follow the gully river to its end, then trek north for seven days. Meiss seemed to have the same idea.
“Follow this stream, right?”
“Right. However long that takes,” Kasha said over the voice of a hooting owl.
The tiny creek opened up as the two wolves walked along it. Fingers of running water joined with the stream, until the current kept both of them from the deeper parts. They passed a pair of oak trees as some point far into the night. They stopped and looked at each other for a moment.
“You as exhausted as I am?”
“Yeah. Let’s sleep here. It’s safe as any other place.”
Kasha dropped his weapon and fell into unconsciousness before he could even notice. He was exhausted, and his mind was happy to get the rest it had been deprived of that day. Sleep came quickly and easily.
“G’hahahahaha!”
He was shocked back into wakefulness by a laugh right ahead of him. He sprung to his hind paws to see a hulking Grimeskin standing before him. Kasha leaped back and noticed Meiss was gone.
“Meiss!”
That was when Kasha felt another monster behind him, and it was too late. He turned around and felt a hard, green fist slam into the side of his head. Kasha spun around and landed in the water. His vision blacked out as he felt his body being pulled underneath the current.
The Pass
Asril was awoken by Ani’s short, panicked breaths.
“I… I just can’t fight this anymore…”
The five of them had been hiking to Dalaam by foot over the last four days. Ani had been able to keep up for the first few days, but it was becoming more and more difficult for her. She hung her neck down to the ground and broke into crying. Tari, who had been by her side the whole time and usually had encouraging words for her friend, had no response this time. Ani had been sick since the camp in Miao. But at that time there were more pressing matters.
Asril scurried out of the tent and woke up Hex.
“Ani’s getting worse, Hex.”
Tanjung got up and crawled into the tent. He came out with a grim look.
“She can’t get up. I’m going back to the pass to ask for help.”
Tanjung glanced over to Hex. “Don’t try anything while I’m gone.”
Hex rolled his eyes at the self-appointed leader and then went in to look at Ani for himself.
“It could be anything. Blood-poisoning, infection, influenza. I hope they have some assistance back there but I doubt it.” Hex shook his head. “Our leader is probably just getting us into more trouble by giving our location away to the Tigers.”
He detached an earthenware cylinder and handed it to Asril.
“There’s a pond due west of here. Fill this up and come back. Ani will appreciate it.”
“Wh-how do you know it’s there?”
Hex tapped his moist, black nose in response. “Just head west. It’s close, I promise.”
There was no need to ask twice. Asril didn’t want to be around for all this. What was the point? There wasn’t much she could do and she didn’t really know Ani that well anyway.
Asril followed the sound of croaking frogs and soon found herself at the pond. Upon seeing her, a school of swimming ducks scattered and squawked. She dipped her container into the pond. Thoughts of leaving arose. She didn’t really know any of these people; they were only sitting in the woods waiting for either the monsters or the tigers from Preena to come get them.
Then she realized what a big mistake she made over the last few days. This world was every furre for themselves. If she abandoned the group now, she could probably get to Dalaam on her own, without the risk of being caught.
Hmm. But what about after? And what was waiting for her at Dalaam? Asril sighed, lifted the cylinder and covered it. She was a fairly skilled thief, but knew precious little about the world around her. Best to stay for now, but only because of the unknown in Dalaam. Maybe she could ditch the group later. Hex seemed to be the only person who actually knew what he was doing. This group felt less safe with each passing hour.
Leaving the pond, a big golden fish wiggled by her through the clear water. She huffed at it and kept going.
Asril came back and eased the fresh water into Ani’s mouth. Her face was pale and her shivers were a rattle.
“Tanjung will be here soon. He’s getting help for you, Ani.” Tari choked out. She was more panicked than Ani was by now.
“Tanjung is probly gonna get us all killed.” Asril murmured, stepping out of that tent as soon as she could.
The ‘leader’ still wasn’t back, but Hex thankfully hadn’t bolted yet.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
Asril plopped down next to him.
“So what’s really over there? In Dalaam?” Asril cocked her head up to him.
“Monkeys.”
“Come on.”
“The Monkeys keep to themselves. They live in these mountains so how can they not? A few years ago they were pretty hospitable. I only hope it’s still the same now.”
It was hard to ask, but…
“Hex let’s just get out of here. Before Tanjung gets back. You and I can prolly make it. These three won’t.”
Asril scooted closer to the golden fox. If safety could ever be bought…
Hex flashed his bright eyes and looked at the thief.
“Tanjung’s a good person.”
Asril huffed and slid away. Maybe she couldn’t get what she wanted from Hex so easily…
“Asril…”
“What!”
“Were there fish in that pond?”
“Yeah, big gold ones. Why?”
“I was going to fish for later tonight but no one would be here to look after Ani and Tari.”
Hex pulled out a simple fishing rod from his bag, telescoped it out and handed it to Asril.
“No thanks I’m a cat I can do it myself.”
She huffed again and sauntered off.
By the time she returned, it was at least mid-day and the pond was almost transparent. It wouldn’t take long to catch a fish, but Asril took her time and pounced on two: A red one and a gold one. She tossed them both over her shoulder and made her way back.
This time Tanjung was there. His face was stony, and so was Hex’s.
“Ani didn’t make it.”
Asril had never seen someone die before, but there Ani was, stiff in the tent but finally relieved of the pain she was in. Tari was still there, sobbing in grief.
“I… saw her go…”
“It’s OK Tari, we have to let her rest now.”
Tanjung and Hex carried Ani out and began digging her resting place. Ani was buried in her clothes, and Hex chopped a cross from wood, tied it together and marked Ani’s grave. It was really the best that any of them could do. The remaining four of them gathered in a small half-circle.
“She suffered, but it’s over for her now.”
“Many women in my country have suffered a fate far worse than Ani has.” Hex spoke up.
“I’m sorry, Ani.” Tanjung said. “Sorry I couldn’t do more. We’ll miss you.”
The four of them ate in silence and then left Ani in the camp.
They hiked on mostly in silence now. Days went by, the air got thinner and snow began to sprinkle down on them. But after a long trek the four of them finally came upon the Golden Monkey between the mountains.
The monkeys probably saw the party of four coming from a distance. Still, they stood in front of a big snow-covered gate which blocked the road. Tanjung walked ahead, where two short ‘monkeys’ with short, thick brown fur were waiting for them.
“Hello,” Tanjung said cautiously. “May we come in?”
The two monkeys looked at each other and smiled to the cat, as if they were waiting for them all to show up. Unlike in Preena, the gates to lofty Dalaam opened for them.
Kharkov, 1943
A single Messerschmitt fighter plane whizzed by overhead and cut into the thoughts of Sturmbannfuehrer Jochen Peiper. The thermometer outside read -28 C, but nobody in the SS-Leibstandarte needed to be told that. He stared out of the window as they passed by dreary Isbas and muddy snow. They definitely weren’t in France anymore.
A couple days ago most of his regiment detrained at Kharkov Railway Station, and already Peiper’s regiment had seen its fair share of battle. When Jochen arrived a day later, he saw columns of retreating Germans and Italians marching in the other direction. It must have looked like that in Napoleon’s time, too. The rumor was that Kharkov was to be abandoned. The men of his battalion must have heard the same rumors. He got off the train and pulled up his hood, covering his face from the howling wind.
Just a moment ago Jochen got off the phone with Oberst-Gruppenfuehrer Sepp Dietrich, who gave Jochen the most dangerous mission he’d ever heard of. A stranded Wehrmacht division was trapped 20 kilometers behind the line. Jochen’s battalion was to break through the enemy line at a point of his own choosing, wheel south and east, and cross the Donetz River to make contact with the division in Zmiev.
It didn’t end there. The division in question had about 1,000 wounded men. Jochen and his battalion were to help the wounded, load them onto ambulances, and pull them all back across the Soviet lines and into friendly Ukraine.
“There’s a reason I’ve chosen you for this task, Jochen.”
Sepp Dietrich’s gruff voice poured through the receiver. Dietrich was several ranks higher than Peiper, but informal relationships, such as was the case here, were not uncommon in the Waffen SS. For a moment Jochen recalled his father, who often slapped him for breaking a ridged rule, and then slapped him again for crying. In a Prussian home, few shortcomings were worse than weakness.
A lot of people, including those on the psychological testing board, mistook Jochen’s introverted nature, and difficulty opening up to others, for cold arrogance. If any of his men had the same impression when Jochen took over the battalion two years ago, they didn’t for long. He often came by their bunkers to help them forget the howling storm outside. Tonight wouldn’t be an exception. In one of the company bunkers, Jochen gathered the platoon leaders that night, his thin face faintly lit by a wavering lamp.
He repeated the orders to the Kompanie, and that’s when they really sounded crazy. German lines were already retreating all around and faced total collapse. Many of the Landsers stared blank-faced at him, and Jochen sensed panic in the air. Considering the events of the past few months, maybe it was important for them to know their ‘major’ valued each of their lives.
“Today, our difficulties are immense,” Jochen told them.
“The system in which we more or less believe is every bit as good as the slogans on the other side. Even if we don’t always approve of what we have to do, we must carry out our orders for the sake of our country, our comrades, and our families, against whom the other half of the world is fighting in the name of ‘justice’ and ‘liberty.’ All of you are old enough to understand that.”
“As a people, we are fortunate enough in being somewhat less indolent than they. If someone tells us to examine ourselves, we at least have the courage to do it. Our condition is not perfect, but at least we agree to look at other things, and take chances. We are now embarked on a risky enterprise, with no assurance of safety.”
“We are advancing an idea of a Europe that fights together; an idea which is not easily digested. We are trying to change the face of the world, hoping to revive the ancient virtues buried under the layers of filth bequeathed to us. We can expect no reward for this effort. We are loathed everywhere: If we should lose tomorrow those of us still alive after so much suffering will be judged without justice. We’ll be accused of an infinity of murder, as if everywhere, and at all times, men at war did not behave in the same way. Those who have an interest of putting an end to our ideals will ridicule everything we believe in. We shall be spared nothing. Future generations will speak only of an idiotic, unqualified sacrifice.”