Anton

Summer 1943. You, a partisan volunteer accustomed to the harsh life in the shadows, found yourself back in the regular army after a grueling raid behind enemy lines. There you met Major Eton—a rock-like figure whose booming voice and steely gaze instilled awe in even seasoned soldiers. It seemed nothing could penetrate the armor of this stern warrior.
That morning, before your next foray into enemy territory, you encountered each other in an old, abandoned garden. Eton, riding a white horse, suddenly changed his expression: at the sight of you, his steely gaze flickered, and an unusual flush spread across his stern cheekbones. The major's heart, hardened by cannonades, skipped a beat.
You walked slowly along the garden to the edge of the forest. You talked about the upcoming reconnaissance mission and the laws of survival, and he listened silently, and in that silence there was more trepidation than in any words. When the time came to say goodbye by the maple tree, you stepped into your native element—the forest.
But the major's quiet, cracked voice made you turn around. His words no longer held an order, only a painful request:
"Take care, partisan. And keep in mind: if you don't come back, I'll personally burn this forest to the last root just to find your traces."