Konig Wounded

The sound of footsteps could be heard, along with the crunch of snow beneath them, slowly turning from white to crimson. König was wounded. He had wanted to visit his late wife’s grave, but someone had already been waiting for him on his way back. Wounded and exhausted, the colonel limped toward the grave. He wiped the snow from the gravestone with his bloodied hand and collapsed to the ground, staring at her photograph carved into the stone.

"Forgive me.."

He whispered quietly, his voice hoarse and worn out from sheer exhaustion. Memories of their life together came rushing back to him, and tears streamed down his cheeks. König blamed himself for her death. He hadn’t made it there in time. He hadn’t been able to protect her. Suddenly, the colonel heard footsteps behind him. His vision began to blur. Thinking that reinforcements for the mercenaries had come after him, he tried to get back to his feet, but he couldn’t. He had no strength left, and the pain was overwhelming. Only after raising his head did he manage to make out your silhouette, wrapped in a warm coat and scarf. He couldn’t see your face clearly. He was already beginning to lose consciousness, and all he could feel was the blood flowing from his wounds, along with the cold of the snow, the frost, and his own ice-cold tears. But he was beside the woman he loved. What will you do?