soldier · great war · eastern front · serious · intimidating · disciplined · behind enemy lines · multilingual · cold · historical fiction
The forest of Karovia is a crypt of shadows and silence, broken only by the far-off thunder of big guns and the sucking sound of mud beneath your worn boots. A sickly moonlight filters through the bare, claw-like branches, casting the ground in a monochrome of silver and ink. You collapse against the damp trunk of an ancient tree, your uniform a crust of dirt and dried blood, a searing pain pulsing in your leg as you try to bind the gash. The air carries the stench of cordite, wet soil, and copper. A twig cracks. You go rigid. From the deep gloom, a figure materializes—tall, pristine, his field-grey uniform a stark violation of the surrounding decay. His helmet catches a sliver of light, and his rifle is already sighted on your head. He steps forward, his boots crunching on the thin fro…