• tab Running. The turf below flew by quickly, as if he was running at an unreal speed. Trees on either side flashed into a blur, but not so much that he couldn't see the details clearly. It was dark. A bright light was ahead of him, the sound of clear laughter of someone with a head start drifting towards him. His lungs must have been heaving from the effort to keep pumping his legs, yet he oddly felt nothing but a burning feeling of anger in his chest. A cool wind rushed by along with an iron tinged smell. He payed no attention. A second later, he exited the trees, entering the bright light.
    tab The scene before him was horrendous. Enough to stop anyone in their tracks. But he kept running on, determined. The sky above was tinged a luminous crimson, the clouds a deep ebony, and the sun hidden. The soles of his brown leather boots turned a deep red from the blood soaked ground, then darker from the grass's charcoal ashes. Bonfires threw up a sulfuric smoke, their fires' highlighting the piles upon piles of corpses strewn carelessly on the battlefield. His eyes were only on a dark figure just feet ahead, standing on a small, bare hill.
    tab Gradually, he slowed down to a less frantic pace. The very air seemed molasses thick, the overwhelming stench of fresh blood unseen but present. Tall javelins stuck into the soft ground rose up ominously, like forlorn winter trees stripped of their branches. It was neither cold nor hot, yet he had worked up no sweat. The dark figure on the hill was more pronounced, facing away from him and wearing a top hat. A low growl ripped from his throat as he stood.
    tab The figure on the hill turned around slowly, as if just noticing an long awaited friend but unsure how to react. A sharp, piercing pain stabbed at his right eye and he cried out, bringing a hand up in surprise. Warmth dripped down his fingers. He pulled his hand away to see glistening blood staining his hand. Anger rose up more furiously in him, and he heard himself yell something at the figure, though he soon forgot what it was.
    tab The top half of the figure's face, even by distance, was blurred out, every feature but the smile. It seemed sad somehow. He paid no attention. Wiping the free flowing blood away like a mosquito, he grabbed the pistol from it's holster on his belt, aiming it at the man with one hand. He yelled out again, louder this time. The figure still said nothing. This time, the man extended a hand like a greeting before slowly clenching it into a loose fist.
    tab He felt something cold tug at his legs, and he risked to glance down. Black shadows swirled around his feet, licking playfully up like flames or water. Cold fear trickled into his mind. Gasping, he attempted to step away, only to find himself stuck to the spot. The shadows roiled upward, twining around his lower legs and torso. The pistol fell from his hand when they latched onto his outstretched arm.
    tab Higher and higher the shadows reached, now like flames. They became heavier on his body, dragging him down as he fought to stand straight. An opening remained for him to see through the quickly closing gaps. The figure on the hill was framed by the crimson sky, watching silently, the smile a thin line now. He yelled out again, his hoarse voice echoing in the silence. "Fenrir!"

    _______________________________________________________________________



    tab A clear blue eye shot open, staring up at the night sky. Slowly, the man sat up from where he'd been lying on his back. Cold sweat dotted his forehead, plastering blond hair down. The sound of crackling flames and lapping water brought him to his senses, as did the smell of burning wood and salty air. It had just been a dream.
    tab He passed a hand over his face, fingers lingering on the patch worn over the right eye. A tired sigh made him turn his head to the right. A red haired man was blowing smoke tendrils up into the air on the other side of the fire, placed in a brazier so it wouldn't burn the ship's deck. Copper eyes glittered as they lowered to gaze at him.
    tab "что за? Again?" The foreign yet familiar accent had a strained joyful note.
    tab He nodded, reaching for the bottle of liquor not far from him. He looked at it thoughtfully before raising it to his dry lips and taking a swig. The liquid went down fiery at first, then cooled.
    tab "It's getting longer."
    tab "How long this time?"
    tab Silence. "...My eye was injured. Then shadows swallowed me up, from the ground."
    tab The red haired man threw back his head and took a long drag on his cigarette, holding it in. He let it out while he spoke. "You caught him?"
    tab The blond haired man frowned slightly, studying the rim of the green glass bottle. "No. Just up to him." He closed his left eye shut tightly, trying to remember the image. "Gott, I was so close! Beinahe..."
    tab The two men sat there in the quiet for a while. Then a long, mournful howl caused both to glance sharply up. It had come from the mainland, in the forest fringing the coast where the ship had been beached for repairs. The blond haired man stood up abruptly, his eye opening, breathing heavily. He strode quickly over to the railing of the ship.
    tab "товарищ? Comrade? What are you--?"
    tab "I'll be back soon." The blond haired man spoke tightly, downing the rest of the liquor in one gulp and tossing it to clunk dully on the deck.
    tab The red haired man stared for a long while at his friend's back before nodding to himself resignedly. "I'll be here."
    tab "Danke, kamerad..." The blond haired man said quietly, before vaulting over the wooden railing and down to the wet sand below. Then, as his friend watched, he took off for the darkened forest, grayish-blue fog floating along the ground.
    tab "Good luck." He muttered to himself, staring at the glowing red end of his cigarette.



    Translation notes:
    German- Gott (God); Beinahe (Closely, nearly, or almost); Kamerad (Friend, or comrade); Danke (Thanks, or, thank you)
    Russian- что за (What); товарищ (Comrade)