Len Gilbert - The Furred Reich

Whoever wanted him, he’d deal with it when he awoke from this. A medic would wake him up soon enough.

Sepp turned back to the location where the ordeal began. Among the various things strewn around the ground was a shovel. He’d have to dig a trench once again.

“Like 1914 all over…”

He chuckled to himself, trying to trick his mind into not thinking about what could really be going on around him. Back in 1914, thirty years ago, Sepp was on the cusp of adulthood. The Freikorps and later the SS had since kept him more than robust. In half an hour he had himself a small foxhole. Food would have to wait for the morning, though he would surely be awoken by then. Sleep came eventually.

The next morning, he felt the cold wind nipping at him, then opened his eyes and found he was in the exact same place. This was getting annoying. Still no phone call from Jochen. No telegraph from Rommel. No orderly to slap him out of all this. Nothing.

“What is this damned place…” The weathered commander said, brushing the snow off his camouflage.

On the good side, mere survival was a matter far simpler than what he faced in the Ardennes.

“Fuck…”

Sepp shouldered his rifle and made for the woods. His stomach growled, and no rations had ‘come over’ with him.

Quite a few deer prints graced the snowy floor of the forest, so this wouldn’t take too long. His stepfather taught him well many years ago, and Sepp had been an avid hunter ever since. Within the hour he’d stalked a fawn to her thicket and pierced her head with a sudden bark from the Mauser that cracked through the morning air. The young fawn crumpled before him, and he stared down at her.

Sepp hoisted her upon his shoulders and began the trek to camp. A frightened scream greeted him before he got there, but what he saw practically knocked him back.

The source was two she wolves, women in every sense, knelt upright, pleading to some dark green monster clad in battle armor.

The beast, whatever the hell it was, took its time toying with one young wolfess while the sister begged for mercy. Sepp watched as the monster’s thick green finger hooked under the she wolf’s chest cloth and plucked it off, freeing her breasts to bounce out into the winter air.

Then the other one spoke out. “No… No please let my sister go…”

Sepp gently set his fawn down in the snow, loaded his Mauser and whistled at the beast. It turned around and he quickly shot it in the heart. The beast reeled in shock and dropped its grip on both women. Yet it remained on its feet. The commander trudged out from behind the tree and blasted several more rounds in the green monster’s body. The monster’s red eyes filled with rage as it unsheathed a hellish ax and ran at Sepp. He grimaced as he cocked the gun upward and shot the plunderer in the helmet, finally knocking it down. And out.

The she wolves knelt in fear at the feet of the approaching human. He stared down at the sister who had been manhandled just a moment ago. She returned the stare for a moment, then backed up against a tree.

Dietrich slung the Mauser back.

“Is there danger nearby…”

The other sister spoke up.

“Y-yes.”

“Lead me in the right direction.”

“…OK. Sir.”

The other clasped her deerskin top back on. Sepp lifted his fawn back onto his shoulders and rejoined the she-wolves, following behind them as they ran through the snow.

“Please sir… Faster!”

Sepp couldn’t go that fast carrying his fawn, but the wolf girls led him westward again and into a forest. He marched as they scurried. And when he got tired, the older sister helped carry the deer.

“We need to stop. I’m starving.”

That would probably be the last he’d see of them. They’d run on while he sat here.

But they didn’t go. Instead, the girls stopped as if to obey him. He sat down, and the wolven sisters sat down next to him.

“What are your names?”

“It’s Valvela, sir.” The first sister replied, “and this is Sabrae.”

Sepp caught his breath.

“And what are we fleeing from?” He asked.

“Raiders, sir. Don’t you know? They showed up in the forests last month.”

“That monster there… Was he a Raider?”

“Yes.”

“And, could you tell me how to get to Koblenz?”

“Ko-huh? No sir I’ve never heard of that place.” Her face remained solemn and serious.

“Paris? Antwerpen? Strauss-burg?”

“No sir I don’t know. Would you like some autumn nuts?”

Sabrae reached in her satchel and pulled out some walnuts and cashews. Sepp took them.

“I need for you both to help me with something.”

The girls both fixed their eyes to the human in silence.

“Lead me to a safe place. Lead me there, and I’ll take care of any Raider who comes for either of you. Could you do that for me?”

The girls nodded in unison, Valvela’s bushy tail swaying behind her. This was the first chance he’d gotten to really look at the girls. Their firm, young bodies took the shape of a human woman, but they were both covered in thick fur. Long, white snouts, pure white hair that cascaded to their shoulders. No, this definitely wasn’t Antwerpen.

“Get back here you!”

Hans jogged down the clover-lined dirt path before bolting into the nearby woods and out of the foxens’ sights. If the foxen wanted him, they’d have to pay with several more lives of their own — Hans would make sure of that.

He wasn’t sure how long he ran. Panting, he sat down against a tree. Already he was close to the northern reaches of the map James had given him. The only question now was how to get out of this country and into the Cottonwine Lands, which was north of the lapines. He’d have to go through lapine lands first. At least that was what he had scribbled into the side margins.

The map didn’t show any lapine towns to the east of him. It looked like he’d have to go all through the foxen realm to even get to the lapines, and he could be caught anywhere along the way. But to the west of him were felines, at least that’s what the map said. There were some trade paths from feline lands to other places. That route seemed like the safer one. According to the map, all he had to do was get to the west side of these woods undetected and he’d be out of the foxen’s country.

Hans got up and continued west under the leafy green canopy that covered him. This continent was something he could get more used to. It reminded him more of home, which by now seemed forever out of reach.

Night was about to fall and Hans didn’t want to travel at such a disadvantage to his yellow-eyed adversaries. He wouldn’t make the tent tonight, either. It would be too easy for the foxen to spot.

After chewing another lamb stick he dug a trench, lay down in it and listened to the foreboding calls of nearby owls. It only made him clutch the Mauser that much tighter.

For some time Hans drifted somewhere between unconsciousness and alarm. It was at some point in the night that he heard approaching footsteps. He would have buried himself completely if he could have. His body went into an intense panic as the footsteps neared his dugout and as his thoughts stopped. A supplementary sense took over and told him danger was very near. Suddenly he saw a man no more than five yards from him. He could feel his skin crawling. Then a second man approached behind the first. They both froze for a moment, took a few steps and turned away. Silently, Hans raised his gun from the dugout.

Should he shoot? That would make a huge sound. Let them go? They could just as easily track him down later. Hans pondered it for a split second.

His instincts made the decision for him.