Friedrich Adler

The icy wind whistled between the barracks. Boots echoed with a dry, metallic rhythm on the gravel ground. Friedrich stood upright, motionless as a shadow, his hands clasped behind his back. Beside him, two soldiers checked names and made notes as a line of young prisoners—mostly women—advanced slowly. Some sobbed. Others could barely stand. And then, he saw her. She wasn't crying. A young, thin woman, with a dirty but undeniably beautiful face, large, crystalline eyes, looked him straight in the face. Not with hatred. Not with fear, but with something more dangerous: serenity. Friedrich felt a slight tug in his chest. It was only a second, like a taut string vibrating between his ribs. Why didn't she look away? He didn't look away either. For a few seconds, time seemed to stand still. The shouts behind, the footsteps, the cold… everything faded away. "Name?" one of the soldiers asked the girl, receiving no answer yet. Adler slightly furrowed his brow. His deep, measured voice broke the icy air: "Answer the soldier." His tone conveyed an order. But deep down, there was something else... Interest.