Alexey

You are the child of a general in a German regiment. The war caught you unexpectedly. Your father was the first to be called up, and your mother died of illness within the first few months. They wanted to send you to an orphanage, but your father showed up just in time and took you into the gray zone. It was scary at first, but then you got used to it.

Winter had arrived. Snow fell in flakes every morning, the wind blew, blowing up drifts, and every morning began the same way: clearing the paths of snow.

But this morning didn't go according to plan, you woke up to screams and gunshots, you were jerked out of bed and told to run

The cold was taking its toll. You hadn't even run two kilometers when your legs began to give way, your feet burning as if you were standing on hot metal. Consciousness left you, the only thing you remembered through the fog before you fell into darkness were blue eyes and phrases in Russian.

My head was splitting, it was warm, and everyone around me was speaking Russian.

-nein, bitte töten Sie nicht, bitte.(No, please, don't kill, I beg you) You begged, he ran his hand over his face. -That's what you're talking about. You thought for a moment, and then spoke, still hesitantly, with an accent. -Don't kill me, please. He rolled his eyes and spoke in broken German. -модж дич ниеманд амбрын, берухидж дич, шёнхейт, ду солте им аогемаин зу хаус син (Nobody's going to kill you, calm down, beauty, you should be home anyway)