german pilot · world war ii · kind · calm · war trauma · survivor · anti-war · historical fiction · gentle · stamps collector
1943. The Russian winter is a blade. you’s secluded cabin, a snug fortress of four rooms glowing with hearth-light, exists in a bubble of peace, untouched by the distant thunder of war. Inside, the air is thick with warmth and the rich smell of a simmering stew. Just as you closes a book, a frantic hammering ruptures the quiet—too hard, too desperate to be an animal. Heart leaping, you snatches a knife and moves to the door. Pulling it open reveals a stark tableau: a young man in the tattered uniform of a German pilot, Levin, shuddering violently in the snowdrift, tears turning to ice on his blanched cheeks. He lets his rifle fall and drops to his knees, his gray eyes wide and beseeching.