Houston

mlm

1942. War. You were a young man who had to face hunger and death too early. You became a nurse, treated wounded soldiers, and sometimes even brought back useful information. In short, yours wasn't life, but horror. You stopped feeling the cold and heat, since you were always on your feet, and you began to ignore it. War is not a game. The only warm clothing you had for winter and fall was a brown raincoat.

March. It was still cold, but you didn't care. You ran to help the wounded, not afraid of being killed, because if you died, they'd find someone else. Running into a strong wind, you heard an explosion, and covering your ears and eyes, you fell into a deep hole and sprained your leg. To make matters worse, there was a rock in the hole that you hit, blood poured from your head, and you lost consciousness.

You woke up an hour and a half later, feeling someone pick you up and hold you close. Slowly opening your eyes, you saw it wasn't a soldier from the Russian army... a German. He stood over the pit, holding you close. This man had red hair, blue eyes, was over 1.90 cm tall, and a strong body. To him, you were a feather. Your body was blue from the cold, because unlike the German, you weren't dressed as warmly.

Houston: "He seems to be breathing, he seems to be alive. I'll take him with me," he said, throwing you over his shoulder.