Post by wolfie on Dec 10, 2011 15:59:23 GMT
I like to write. I like Furries. I like Guns. I like the Cold War and the idea of Spies and Espionage and sprawling World-Wide Secret Conflict. So, what did I do?
I wrote a story about a young girl from Germany, born to a mother who fought alongside firstly the Waffen SS, before betraying them to fight for the Soviets after gaining true insight into Nazi Activities, and who was part of a Nazi Supersoldier Project that made her as a Husky Anthro, along with a Father who fought for the British during the same World War. Joining up early with Allied Forces in the scattered Berlin, she proved her worth as a Marksman and Sniper, but quickly showed that she was unwilling to pull the trigger on another living being if she even suspected it might maim or kill. So, she was shoved into a role as a Spy in the Cold War. This is where the story of Sarah Ludwig begins, the story of Sierra Lonewolf, Haski, the Ruskie Husky. This is her story.
Chapter 1: Ruskie Husky
The Rifle clattered as it spun backwards along the concrete, the Wooden Furniture cracking with a cry of wooden pain, and the gunmetal ringing out loud in protest at it's treatment, leaving the faithful Dragunov metres away from it's owner, looking forlorn and betrayed. She hissed, breathing in fast as she ducked to the side, the black blade of the knife parting the air with a shriek as it skimmed her coat, tinkling against the badge on her breast. Spinning on her right heel, she drew her left up and took her own blade from her boot, before slamming her left foot down with a near-silent 'tap', like a bird forlornly pecking at the window of a warm house in the winter.
"Ah." The man grinned, leaning over the railings and staring down at the Husky as she drew into a fighting stance, as her attacker slowly circled her, his face obscured by a flight mask and helmet as he weighed the knife in his hand. He gently reached over, and tapped his colleague on the shoulder, prompting her to look up from the clipboard she was scribbling on. "Close Quarters Melee Combat. This is where Sierra Lonewolf excels."
"She's a free-spirit. She won't fight fair." the woman scoffed, turning back to her clipboard.
"Since when did any of us?" the man chuckled, staring down at Sierra's Heavy, Black Soviet Coat, under which he knew her Makarov still lay.
A grin crept across Sierra's Husky Muzzle, a chuckle rising in her throat as she whipped around, the Black Blade of her Knife skimming the man's throat and sending him retreating backwards. Using her momentum, she kept spinning on the ball of her foot, bringing her left up again and placing the knife away, while using her right hand to reach into her coat, and pull out the small Soviet Makarov pistol, stopping to take aim for only a split-second before firing. At this range, it was unlikely even the most unskilled would miss, and as her finger pulled back the trigger, her attacker knew it, his eyes going wide behind the visor of his helmet, before he was tossed down onto his back, the helmet cracking against the floor as smoke curled from the barrel of the Husky's pistol, her pale blue eyes lighting up with a spark of pleasure as she strolled over to her Rifle, whining sadly as she looked over the cracked furniture of the SVD, gently stroking her hand along the faithful mahogany and reliable blued steel.
The man clapped from the balcony, staring down at Sierra as her attacker rose, rubbing at his head as he removed his helmet and tossed it to the floor, wincing. "Dammit Sarah. Rubber Bullets still hurt at short-range." he hissed, coughing as he kicked away the little black stub of rubber by his foot. Sarah giggled nonchalantly, still stroking her rifle as she smiled. His voice had a thick Austrian accent to it, but it was slowly being replaced by an American drawl from his time with the Allied Soldiers.
"Sorry Gerald." she giggled, her voice not laden with a Russian accent as her nickname of 'Ruskie Husky' lead many to believe, but instead with a distinctly British Accent, overlaid with tones of German, harkening to her mixed blood. "But I didn't think it would hurt you under all that armour you wear."
"It does." Gerald groaned, cracking his neck. "It'll stop a bullet, but it'll still throw you on your ass, and you'll still feel it hit. After all, you still feel the cold under that big Soviet coat don't you?" Sarah nodded slightly, hugging her rifle close. "Exactly the same for me, except with bullets, not the Cold, quite obviously."
The man on the balcony slowly descended, still clapping all the while, which was sending Sarah's ears into small spasms beneath the Ushanka that covered them. "Well done Sierra. Not the fairest fight, but I think we all know the saying 'All's fair in Love and War' isn't exactly true now, don't we?" he chuckled, brushing out wrinkles in the fine black suit he wore over his tanned Californian skin.
"Yes sir." Sarah answered quickly, nodding as she stood to attention, Gerald following her lead after a few seconds of groaning and cracking.
"Good, good." the Woman on the Balcony said, not descending to the training floor as her colleague had. "Because you are both being deployed in the morning. Corporal Tanner, you are being sent to assist American Forces in an Assault on Cuba. You will be told everything you need to know on your way there. Sierra, you are being deployed into Siberia, where you will attempt to Infiltrate the Soviet Presence in Kolyma." she explained, clearing her throat afterwards. "No questions from either of you, because you're to be in your respective destinations for Deployment tomorrow morning. It's an overnight flight over Soviet territory for you Sierra, and a Ship to Cuba for you Tanner. Get moving." And with that, she disappeared, leaving naught but an air of disquiet and worry among the two Soldiers, who were quickly ushered from the building within seconds by two heavily-armed American Soldiers, roughly manhandled across an Airfield, before Sarah was tossed into a small captured Soviet plane, and Gerald was bundled into a Helicopter, leaving them both dishevelled and feeling ill-prepared as they were sent once more into the belly of hell.
Chapter 2: Gulag
"Alright Sierra!" The Pilot crackled over the loudspeaker, barely audible over the roar of the Engines of the Ilyushin Il-14. "We're nearing Kolyma, you'll be dropping in a few minutes! Remember, you're a Ruskie now, sent from Berlin. Allies intercepted your team and you were the only one to survive! We've already dealt with their real team, just make sure you're convincing! We can't do anything for you once you're out of this plane!"
Sarah slowly nodded, clutching her Dragunov close as she checked the straps on her parachute, the blood smeared over her form making her feel uneasy, especially since it was her own blood that they had taken beforehand, and her torn clothes were letting in the chill with ease, although her fur helped somewhat. "I understand." she sighed into the little microphone that sat beside her.
"Good. Hope your Ruskie's good Husky." the Pilot said in farewell, before a quiet American Soldier in his civvies got up and slammed open the door of the plane, gesturing to Sarah, who shakily got up and threw herself from the plane, the wind clawing harshly at her flesh, threatening to rip off the goggles that covered her eyes and pinning her jaw shut.
The ground hit hard, as the drab white parachute fell gently over Sarah's form, hiding her as she shrugged off the pack and clawed her way out, before pulling a single match from her coat and striking it on a rock, tossing it on the parachute, which ignited with a brilliant flash of white, leaving nothing but white ash within seconds. Thermite was a dangerous thing to coat a parachute in, but it was necessary for the operation to succeed. Wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt to ease her chattering teeth, Sarah gave a small whimper, staring around at the white wasteland that surrounded her, the Trees casting eerie shadows over her fragile frame as she began to trudge up the incline, in the hopes that it lead to the Butugichag Gulag. She could already feel the presence of the Valley seeping into her legs, weakening her will and resolve, and she remembered what the locals called it; Death Valley.
Night began to fall by the time Sarah had trudged through the deep, biting snow to the watchtower of the Butugichag Gulag. The presence of Death Valley was ever eating at her will to walk, and her legs felt weak and unwilling to walk any further, so it was quite fortunate when the spotter ran from the Tower and caught her as her eyes closed, and her legs shut down, sending her tumbling towards the snow, only to be caught in the man's arms. He rolled her over, stroking at her face, and wiping snow from the soviet badge on her ushanka, before calling out in Russian. "[We've got one of them! A Girl! She's weak, help me with her!]" Another man came running out from the tower, stepping carefully over Sarah's comatose body and raising her other side in aid. "[Got her?]"
"[Yes. She's pretty light. I'm surprised you couldn't lift her yourself. The Dragunov is the heaviest thing here.]" The other man grunted.
""
"[Well? Why are you standing there then? Let's get her inside. Some Vodka will clean out the radiation, and a good Soup will do her a world of good.]" he grunted, heaving her up off the snow, and prompting the other man to do the same, before the two of them began to carry her gently towards a larger chain of buildings a little way up the slope, hard to see clearly with its light metal construction and the snow and ice that caked it.
Sarah awoke slowly, her vision blurred as she stared up at the harsh halogen lamp that floated above her, casting eerie halos of light across her sight as she reached out a tentative hand, pawing at the lamp far above.
"[She's awake, that's good. Who's got the bottle? It should help with the radiation she got from the walk here.]" A thick, gruff voice sighed, as a bottle was extended above her face, the label slowly coming into focus to reveal that the clear liquid inside was vodka, although it was difficult for her to remember what the strange slavic letters spelt out, as she had not used what little Russian she had in years. A shot glass appeared from the other side of her vision, and into it was poured the noxious fluid.
"[She's held up pretty well thus far, hasn't she? She looks quite frail.]" another voice cut in, coming from beside the shot glass, and most likely the owner of the thickly gloved hand that held it. It wasn't as gruff as the first, and had a smoother, more western accent to it.
"" The first voice said again, as she felt a hand on her back propping her up, before a face leant into her vision, showing her the visage of the man with the shot glass. She quickly recognised him as a native Berliner, being one herself. His features were scarred from battle and surgery, but she could see that they were soft, and once kind. They still were, a worried smile crossing his face as he offered her the noxious alcohol.
"[Here, take this. It will help with the Radiation.]" he offered, holding it closer to her. She wasn't completely sure what he said, but she realised his intentions, taking the glass in hand, and downing the noxious liquid with a grimace, not one for the taste of Vodka, or for any alcohol at that. As she finished the glass, she looked down to see the Berliner sitting on the edge of her hospital bed, the rather fragile frame bending slightly under his weight. "[So, Haski, can you speak Russian?]" he asked with a caring smile, rubbing at her blanketed leg as she lay there, propped up by a bulky stereotypically Russian man behind her.
"[A... a little. Is not my Mother Tongue. You... you are Berlin? You speak German?]" Sarah asked shakily, the Russian falling limply from her tongue. The man smiled, and spoke again, in German this time.
"{Yes, I am from Berlin. I suppose you are as well?}" He asked, his smile growing.
"{Yes. I was born in Berlin. German is my Mother Tongue, and I speak it a lot better than I speak Russian.}" Sarah said confidently, a small smile creeping to her face.
"{Ah, good, good, so, what is a young German Girl like you doing all the way out in Kolyma?}" he asked, shuffling a bit closer to her so they could converse with better ease.
"{I was part of the squad sent from Berlin, but we were ambushed by Americans before we reached the Valley. The others are all dead, and I was lucky to get away.}" Sarah explained, swallowing the knot in her throat.
"{You are fortunate, aren't you Haski? What's your name?}" the man asked, soft brown eyes watching her carefully, his deep black hair cut short and kept barely visible by a Ushanka, the ear flaps of which were tied underneath his chin, meeting with the fur collar sown into his Telogreika.
"{It's Sadie. Sadie Ludia.}" Sarah answered, using variants of her own name to keep some semblance of self, as she smoothed down the bandages along her chest. The self-inflicted knife wounds had hurt, but they had been necessary so she didn't arouse suspicion, and at least there were painkillers before the bullet in the waist.
"{You can call me Ludovic Sadie, it is good to meet you.}" Ludovic answered, still smiling as he reached over, and removed an IV drip from her wrist. "{Welcome to Butugichag.}"
"{I can tell you Haski, you're lucky to still have all your fur after your little trek through the Valley there.}" Ludovic sighed as he helped Sarah to her feet, the others slowly scattering, leaving Sarah and Ludovic alone, her looking almost like a Dwarf beside the taller man. Sarah raised her eyebrows in worry at Ludovic's comment, her sharp blue eyes wide in horror.
"{Lucky? What do you mean?}" she asked, shivering slightly and wincing a little as it disturbed the wound in her waist.
"{We mine Uranium here Haski, the Radiation would make your fur just fall from the pores. Vodka helps a little, but not many of us have any taste for it, and it is no real substitute for good Anti-Radiation Medicine.}" Ludovic explained, rubbing Sarah's shoulder to try and console her. "{The Deer here lose all the fur in their legs, and eventually they grow weak and lose all will to stand. They just lie down and die slowly. It's easy to get Venison, but we can't eat it because of all the radiation.}"
"{So, what, Vodka every day or I lose all my fur?}" Sarah gasped, still shaking a little as she placed her hand over her mouth.
"{Vodka is your water from here on Haski.}" Ludovic sighed, helping her to walk to a small aluminium table in the corner where her clothes and weapons were piled, newly patched up and repaired. "{We drink it with every meal, and every meal usually has Ginseng or something in it. Our Doctor says that Vodka is not good for cleaning Radiation, but he does admit that since it has Ginseng in it, it's the best we have until the next supply. I'm not sure of the specifics myself, but better safe than sorry, no? And anyway, if it doesn't work, you'll be too drunk to care.}" he went on as she put on her clothing over the bandages, tucked her Makarov into the holster, and slung the Dragunov over her shoulder. She winced as it hit against the exit wound of the bullet, but she did not wish to give up her rifle to anyone, even someone like Ludovic who she was quite certain she could trust.
"{Now, Sadie, you will be working with me while you are here. I work in the Western Watchtower, the one you saw on your rather... unfortunate way in.}" Ludovic explained as he lead Sarah outside, into the freezing Arctic Weather of Butugichag, the icy, atomic wind biting deep into Sarah's bones, even beneath the thick fur of her clothing and body. She gave a small whimper as her ushanka was nearly buffeted from her head, sending a spine-chilling gust of ice up the back of her neck, where it buried itself and melted in her hair, dripping down to freeze the delicate silver clasps she kept within it.
"{Is.. is it much colder up there?}" Sarah asked, teeth chattering as her thin frame shook like a twig in the howling Siberian Winds, her tail curling between her legs in fear of how the conditions were further up in the atmosphere.
"{Thankfully, no.}" Ludovic sighed in relief. "{We keep a Wood-burner up there, toss in logs from the dead tress in the forest, along with a little oil burner in case things get very cold. It's not much, but you will thank God that it is there.}"
Sarah allowed herself a small giggle. "{You might be, but I'll just be thanking the person who invented them, and the person who bought them. I'm an Atheist.}" she went deathly silent, but quickly perked back up again when she saw Ludovic was in fact chuckling as well, something she had misconstrued as shaking with rage, something that had happened before when she had said she was an Atheist, and something she deeply regretted.
"{Well, thank whoever you want Haski.}" Ludovic smiled. "{But thank someone. Come on, we've got a nice Stew cooking in the quarters, that'll get your tail back up right quick.}" he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, something she was deeply thankful for, the larger man's body instantly spreading warmth into her deadened limbs as he lead her to the Quarters, the promise of a hot Stew indeed getting her tail up and wagging once more.
[Chapter 2 Unfinished. Still WIP.]
I wrote a story about a young girl from Germany, born to a mother who fought alongside firstly the Waffen SS, before betraying them to fight for the Soviets after gaining true insight into Nazi Activities, and who was part of a Nazi Supersoldier Project that made her as a Husky Anthro, along with a Father who fought for the British during the same World War. Joining up early with Allied Forces in the scattered Berlin, she proved her worth as a Marksman and Sniper, but quickly showed that she was unwilling to pull the trigger on another living being if she even suspected it might maim or kill. So, she was shoved into a role as a Spy in the Cold War. This is where the story of Sarah Ludwig begins, the story of Sierra Lonewolf, Haski, the Ruskie Husky. This is her story.
Chapter 1: Ruskie Husky
The Rifle clattered as it spun backwards along the concrete, the Wooden Furniture cracking with a cry of wooden pain, and the gunmetal ringing out loud in protest at it's treatment, leaving the faithful Dragunov metres away from it's owner, looking forlorn and betrayed. She hissed, breathing in fast as she ducked to the side, the black blade of the knife parting the air with a shriek as it skimmed her coat, tinkling against the badge on her breast. Spinning on her right heel, she drew her left up and took her own blade from her boot, before slamming her left foot down with a near-silent 'tap', like a bird forlornly pecking at the window of a warm house in the winter.
"Ah." The man grinned, leaning over the railings and staring down at the Husky as she drew into a fighting stance, as her attacker slowly circled her, his face obscured by a flight mask and helmet as he weighed the knife in his hand. He gently reached over, and tapped his colleague on the shoulder, prompting her to look up from the clipboard she was scribbling on. "Close Quarters Melee Combat. This is where Sierra Lonewolf excels."
"She's a free-spirit. She won't fight fair." the woman scoffed, turning back to her clipboard.
"Since when did any of us?" the man chuckled, staring down at Sierra's Heavy, Black Soviet Coat, under which he knew her Makarov still lay.
A grin crept across Sierra's Husky Muzzle, a chuckle rising in her throat as she whipped around, the Black Blade of her Knife skimming the man's throat and sending him retreating backwards. Using her momentum, she kept spinning on the ball of her foot, bringing her left up again and placing the knife away, while using her right hand to reach into her coat, and pull out the small Soviet Makarov pistol, stopping to take aim for only a split-second before firing. At this range, it was unlikely even the most unskilled would miss, and as her finger pulled back the trigger, her attacker knew it, his eyes going wide behind the visor of his helmet, before he was tossed down onto his back, the helmet cracking against the floor as smoke curled from the barrel of the Husky's pistol, her pale blue eyes lighting up with a spark of pleasure as she strolled over to her Rifle, whining sadly as she looked over the cracked furniture of the SVD, gently stroking her hand along the faithful mahogany and reliable blued steel.
The man clapped from the balcony, staring down at Sierra as her attacker rose, rubbing at his head as he removed his helmet and tossed it to the floor, wincing. "Dammit Sarah. Rubber Bullets still hurt at short-range." he hissed, coughing as he kicked away the little black stub of rubber by his foot. Sarah giggled nonchalantly, still stroking her rifle as she smiled. His voice had a thick Austrian accent to it, but it was slowly being replaced by an American drawl from his time with the Allied Soldiers.
"Sorry Gerald." she giggled, her voice not laden with a Russian accent as her nickname of 'Ruskie Husky' lead many to believe, but instead with a distinctly British Accent, overlaid with tones of German, harkening to her mixed blood. "But I didn't think it would hurt you under all that armour you wear."
"It does." Gerald groaned, cracking his neck. "It'll stop a bullet, but it'll still throw you on your ass, and you'll still feel it hit. After all, you still feel the cold under that big Soviet coat don't you?" Sarah nodded slightly, hugging her rifle close. "Exactly the same for me, except with bullets, not the Cold, quite obviously."
The man on the balcony slowly descended, still clapping all the while, which was sending Sarah's ears into small spasms beneath the Ushanka that covered them. "Well done Sierra. Not the fairest fight, but I think we all know the saying 'All's fair in Love and War' isn't exactly true now, don't we?" he chuckled, brushing out wrinkles in the fine black suit he wore over his tanned Californian skin.
"Yes sir." Sarah answered quickly, nodding as she stood to attention, Gerald following her lead after a few seconds of groaning and cracking.
"Good, good." the Woman on the Balcony said, not descending to the training floor as her colleague had. "Because you are both being deployed in the morning. Corporal Tanner, you are being sent to assist American Forces in an Assault on Cuba. You will be told everything you need to know on your way there. Sierra, you are being deployed into Siberia, where you will attempt to Infiltrate the Soviet Presence in Kolyma." she explained, clearing her throat afterwards. "No questions from either of you, because you're to be in your respective destinations for Deployment tomorrow morning. It's an overnight flight over Soviet territory for you Sierra, and a Ship to Cuba for you Tanner. Get moving." And with that, she disappeared, leaving naught but an air of disquiet and worry among the two Soldiers, who were quickly ushered from the building within seconds by two heavily-armed American Soldiers, roughly manhandled across an Airfield, before Sarah was tossed into a small captured Soviet plane, and Gerald was bundled into a Helicopter, leaving them both dishevelled and feeling ill-prepared as they were sent once more into the belly of hell.
Chapter 2: Gulag
"Alright Sierra!" The Pilot crackled over the loudspeaker, barely audible over the roar of the Engines of the Ilyushin Il-14. "We're nearing Kolyma, you'll be dropping in a few minutes! Remember, you're a Ruskie now, sent from Berlin. Allies intercepted your team and you were the only one to survive! We've already dealt with their real team, just make sure you're convincing! We can't do anything for you once you're out of this plane!"
Sarah slowly nodded, clutching her Dragunov close as she checked the straps on her parachute, the blood smeared over her form making her feel uneasy, especially since it was her own blood that they had taken beforehand, and her torn clothes were letting in the chill with ease, although her fur helped somewhat. "I understand." she sighed into the little microphone that sat beside her.
"Good. Hope your Ruskie's good Husky." the Pilot said in farewell, before a quiet American Soldier in his civvies got up and slammed open the door of the plane, gesturing to Sarah, who shakily got up and threw herself from the plane, the wind clawing harshly at her flesh, threatening to rip off the goggles that covered her eyes and pinning her jaw shut.
The ground hit hard, as the drab white parachute fell gently over Sarah's form, hiding her as she shrugged off the pack and clawed her way out, before pulling a single match from her coat and striking it on a rock, tossing it on the parachute, which ignited with a brilliant flash of white, leaving nothing but white ash within seconds. Thermite was a dangerous thing to coat a parachute in, but it was necessary for the operation to succeed. Wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt to ease her chattering teeth, Sarah gave a small whimper, staring around at the white wasteland that surrounded her, the Trees casting eerie shadows over her fragile frame as she began to trudge up the incline, in the hopes that it lead to the Butugichag Gulag. She could already feel the presence of the Valley seeping into her legs, weakening her will and resolve, and she remembered what the locals called it; Death Valley.
Night began to fall by the time Sarah had trudged through the deep, biting snow to the watchtower of the Butugichag Gulag. The presence of Death Valley was ever eating at her will to walk, and her legs felt weak and unwilling to walk any further, so it was quite fortunate when the spotter ran from the Tower and caught her as her eyes closed, and her legs shut down, sending her tumbling towards the snow, only to be caught in the man's arms. He rolled her over, stroking at her face, and wiping snow from the soviet badge on her ushanka, before calling out in Russian. "[We've got one of them! A Girl! She's weak, help me with her!]" Another man came running out from the tower, stepping carefully over Sarah's comatose body and raising her other side in aid. "[Got her?]"
"[Yes. She's pretty light. I'm surprised you couldn't lift her yourself. The Dragunov is the heaviest thing here.]" The other man grunted.
""
"[Well? Why are you standing there then? Let's get her inside. Some Vodka will clean out the radiation, and a good Soup will do her a world of good.]" he grunted, heaving her up off the snow, and prompting the other man to do the same, before the two of them began to carry her gently towards a larger chain of buildings a little way up the slope, hard to see clearly with its light metal construction and the snow and ice that caked it.
Sarah awoke slowly, her vision blurred as she stared up at the harsh halogen lamp that floated above her, casting eerie halos of light across her sight as she reached out a tentative hand, pawing at the lamp far above.
"[She's awake, that's good. Who's got the bottle? It should help with the radiation she got from the walk here.]" A thick, gruff voice sighed, as a bottle was extended above her face, the label slowly coming into focus to reveal that the clear liquid inside was vodka, although it was difficult for her to remember what the strange slavic letters spelt out, as she had not used what little Russian she had in years. A shot glass appeared from the other side of her vision, and into it was poured the noxious fluid.
"[She's held up pretty well thus far, hasn't she? She looks quite frail.]" another voice cut in, coming from beside the shot glass, and most likely the owner of the thickly gloved hand that held it. It wasn't as gruff as the first, and had a smoother, more western accent to it.
"" The first voice said again, as she felt a hand on her back propping her up, before a face leant into her vision, showing her the visage of the man with the shot glass. She quickly recognised him as a native Berliner, being one herself. His features were scarred from battle and surgery, but she could see that they were soft, and once kind. They still were, a worried smile crossing his face as he offered her the noxious alcohol.
"[Here, take this. It will help with the Radiation.]" he offered, holding it closer to her. She wasn't completely sure what he said, but she realised his intentions, taking the glass in hand, and downing the noxious liquid with a grimace, not one for the taste of Vodka, or for any alcohol at that. As she finished the glass, she looked down to see the Berliner sitting on the edge of her hospital bed, the rather fragile frame bending slightly under his weight. "[So, Haski, can you speak Russian?]" he asked with a caring smile, rubbing at her blanketed leg as she lay there, propped up by a bulky stereotypically Russian man behind her.
"[A... a little. Is not my Mother Tongue. You... you are Berlin? You speak German?]" Sarah asked shakily, the Russian falling limply from her tongue. The man smiled, and spoke again, in German this time.
"{Yes, I am from Berlin. I suppose you are as well?}" He asked, his smile growing.
"{Yes. I was born in Berlin. German is my Mother Tongue, and I speak it a lot better than I speak Russian.}" Sarah said confidently, a small smile creeping to her face.
"{Ah, good, good, so, what is a young German Girl like you doing all the way out in Kolyma?}" he asked, shuffling a bit closer to her so they could converse with better ease.
"{I was part of the squad sent from Berlin, but we were ambushed by Americans before we reached the Valley. The others are all dead, and I was lucky to get away.}" Sarah explained, swallowing the knot in her throat.
"{You are fortunate, aren't you Haski? What's your name?}" the man asked, soft brown eyes watching her carefully, his deep black hair cut short and kept barely visible by a Ushanka, the ear flaps of which were tied underneath his chin, meeting with the fur collar sown into his Telogreika.
"{It's Sadie. Sadie Ludia.}" Sarah answered, using variants of her own name to keep some semblance of self, as she smoothed down the bandages along her chest. The self-inflicted knife wounds had hurt, but they had been necessary so she didn't arouse suspicion, and at least there were painkillers before the bullet in the waist.
"{You can call me Ludovic Sadie, it is good to meet you.}" Ludovic answered, still smiling as he reached over, and removed an IV drip from her wrist. "{Welcome to Butugichag.}"
"{I can tell you Haski, you're lucky to still have all your fur after your little trek through the Valley there.}" Ludovic sighed as he helped Sarah to her feet, the others slowly scattering, leaving Sarah and Ludovic alone, her looking almost like a Dwarf beside the taller man. Sarah raised her eyebrows in worry at Ludovic's comment, her sharp blue eyes wide in horror.
"{Lucky? What do you mean?}" she asked, shivering slightly and wincing a little as it disturbed the wound in her waist.
"{We mine Uranium here Haski, the Radiation would make your fur just fall from the pores. Vodka helps a little, but not many of us have any taste for it, and it is no real substitute for good Anti-Radiation Medicine.}" Ludovic explained, rubbing Sarah's shoulder to try and console her. "{The Deer here lose all the fur in their legs, and eventually they grow weak and lose all will to stand. They just lie down and die slowly. It's easy to get Venison, but we can't eat it because of all the radiation.}"
"{So, what, Vodka every day or I lose all my fur?}" Sarah gasped, still shaking a little as she placed her hand over her mouth.
"{Vodka is your water from here on Haski.}" Ludovic sighed, helping her to walk to a small aluminium table in the corner where her clothes and weapons were piled, newly patched up and repaired. "{We drink it with every meal, and every meal usually has Ginseng or something in it. Our Doctor says that Vodka is not good for cleaning Radiation, but he does admit that since it has Ginseng in it, it's the best we have until the next supply. I'm not sure of the specifics myself, but better safe than sorry, no? And anyway, if it doesn't work, you'll be too drunk to care.}" he went on as she put on her clothing over the bandages, tucked her Makarov into the holster, and slung the Dragunov over her shoulder. She winced as it hit against the exit wound of the bullet, but she did not wish to give up her rifle to anyone, even someone like Ludovic who she was quite certain she could trust.
"{Now, Sadie, you will be working with me while you are here. I work in the Western Watchtower, the one you saw on your rather... unfortunate way in.}" Ludovic explained as he lead Sarah outside, into the freezing Arctic Weather of Butugichag, the icy, atomic wind biting deep into Sarah's bones, even beneath the thick fur of her clothing and body. She gave a small whimper as her ushanka was nearly buffeted from her head, sending a spine-chilling gust of ice up the back of her neck, where it buried itself and melted in her hair, dripping down to freeze the delicate silver clasps she kept within it.
"{Is.. is it much colder up there?}" Sarah asked, teeth chattering as her thin frame shook like a twig in the howling Siberian Winds, her tail curling between her legs in fear of how the conditions were further up in the atmosphere.
"{Thankfully, no.}" Ludovic sighed in relief. "{We keep a Wood-burner up there, toss in logs from the dead tress in the forest, along with a little oil burner in case things get very cold. It's not much, but you will thank God that it is there.}"
Sarah allowed herself a small giggle. "{You might be, but I'll just be thanking the person who invented them, and the person who bought them. I'm an Atheist.}" she went deathly silent, but quickly perked back up again when she saw Ludovic was in fact chuckling as well, something she had misconstrued as shaking with rage, something that had happened before when she had said she was an Atheist, and something she deeply regretted.
"{Well, thank whoever you want Haski.}" Ludovic smiled. "{But thank someone. Come on, we've got a nice Stew cooking in the quarters, that'll get your tail back up right quick.}" he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, something she was deeply thankful for, the larger man's body instantly spreading warmth into her deadened limbs as he lead her to the Quarters, the promise of a hot Stew indeed getting her tail up and wagging once more.
[Chapter 2 Unfinished. Still WIP.]
