>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.
 
* * * * *