The moon was high overhead when Yarost and his allies finally departed from the helo deck and saw the beauty of The German Forests roll out before them. The night was bitterly cold biting into their skins beneath their bullet proof vests, and the sounds of the whirling blades of the helicopter didn't provide the least bit of comfort.
They had crossed over the borders of Russia and Ukraine passing into German airspace before resupplying and heading toward their final mission. They had gone throughout most of the morning knowing it'd be a full moon tonight, and with small rest, which they had gotten used to by now, they flew directly toward their target.
The trees of the forest were a colorful barrage of green, and a macabre like swelling that created a polka dotted pattern of green and gray tree tips forming the crown of the forest making it truly bore the visage of the home of fantastical lands of myth and mystery.
Yarost parted the trees with his vision and could imagine the majesty it held. So he held a binocular to his eyes.
"Christ, It looks beautiful from up here." Yarost said.
"You can say that again." Jonas, a German said. "It swells me with pride to call it home."
"Yeah, yeah. Don't get distracted with sight seeing boys." Dimitri, A tall Russian man with a thick accent spoke and pointed out into the forest. "Eyes on the prize."
Yarost followed the finger, and couldn't see what they were pointing at until he zoomed in with his binoculars.
Yarost could see a temple, a very small temple, not visible enough to be seen from miles away, but visible enough that if you squinted long enough you'd be able to make out the structures of a temple that was there. "Germany's bermuda's triangle." Dimitri patted Yarost on the back.
"We're going into no man's land from here on out." Yarost swelled with a certain pride. He had to admit he was excited, the thrill of seeing the inside of this new bermuda's triangle was thrilling.
Jonas with a steady hand checked his heavy equipment, before remarking, "How the hell has no one seen this."
Dimitri laughed. "Ask your government." He said, standing up and grabbing the hand rest. Jonas took the joke in poor taste and scowled at him, his government currently were seeing eye to eye with the people.
Jonas looked at Yarost instead. "You Americans have any answers for this?"
Yarost shrugged, "Well it's the wilderness. We humans haven't explored everything."
Many squads that approached the objective lost contact with their command post a couple of minutes after they flew a bit more toward their objective. It was currently the biggest mystery of the time.
Most of the world was engaged in other matters, besieged with influx of national worries about public opinion and the scourge of divisional strife that plagued all matters of life, and the militaries were busy on other important projects, a small gathering of countries took interest to this new bermuda's triangle after germany's repeated failure of an expedition that had gotten leaked twice, hence, this squad of different volunteer countrymen looking into the mysterious disappearances of entire military aircraft and personal.
After scouting the area a bit more, they learned to send an aircraft to the specific coordinates, which their scientists and researchers theorize to be an entry way into the forest and a way to recover their lost aircrafts.
Yarost, with a machine gun slung over his shoulder, looked out toward the forested trees, held his radio, which was connected to a microphone inside his helmet, and clicked it. "Prepare for landfall." He spoke, his metallic voice, reverberating from the radios of everyone present.
For such a small military operation their governments piled onto them tactical gear and professional military weapons they'd most likely not see again for a small recovery operation.
Yarost did not know the reason and didn't care, he was one of the most comfortable during this ride as well, he looked out toward the beautiful German trees and enjoyed it.
However, relaxation was not the military's primary purpose and he remembered that he was gonna be up and running as soon the helicopter touched ground.
He'd be forced to talk to a soldier that was disconnected from home for a few weeks, or worse carry a dead body onto the helicopter, and wait for some more helicopters to come back to retrieve the rest.
"BRACE!" Boomed the Helicopter Pilot, and Yarost looked in sudden terror as he saw a gigantic rock be flung from the forest floor headed straight toward the helicopter.
Yarost dove into the helicopter, just as he felt the helicopter twist abruptly, throwing him out, but luckily his hand caught onto the seat he was supposed to be sitting on and he witnessed some other poor soul clad in their black tactical gear be thrown out.
The helicopter lurched again, and the poor soul felt the icy blades of the helicopter pass through their body. The blood sprayed on Yarost face, but that was the least of his problems as the helicopter twisted against and threw him to the ceiling, striking him hard on his head, and knocking him out, the last thing he could see was the beautiful ground of the german trees ever approaching.
…
Yarost blinked and felt his body wrack with pain. It was a dull pain, as if he had just ran an entire marathon. The forest foliage was above him, in the sky was pitch black smoke rising from the helicopter crash. He slowly opened his mouth and let out a desperate grunt, turning onto his stomach, feeling the shock of the impact resonate from his bones.
"God damn, bastard." Yarost looked around, finding blood and gore all around him; his allies had not survived the crash apparently. He looked toward his radio, finding it broken, and stumbled toward the forest running away from the smoking helicopter. It had not exploded yet, but he assumed that would be soon, and he was correct.
As he got off his feet and made his way deeper into the forest, the helicopter exploded, the shockwave throwing him from his feet and forward into the dirt and bloody mud. Yarost cursed his luck, why the hell did he have to volunteer for something like this. He felt something trickle onto his neck, rubbing his neck he found blood, but it wasn't his own blood, he didn't have a wound on his neck.
He looked up and found a man clad in tactical gear in the tree line, well half a man in tactical gear, in the tree lines. It was the lower half of someone in the crew, and their legs were impaled on the sharp jagged trees, that looked as if they moved purposefully in order to impale the legs, eager to show off their trophy.
He felt the urge to hurl but he stomached it, and steadily reared himself to his feet. Movement fluttered in the side of his vision the flames of the crash had spread onto a few trees of the forest, it'll burn in the morning, he thought, but as soon as the flames caught the trees alight he saw the tree sway and the flames dissipate as quickly as they came.
"What the hell is that?' Yarost fell on his ass, the bloody mud sticking to him. The trees swayed back and forth filled with life. He heard the forest move with activity, dead leaves fell with soot and ash all around him.
He could hear it more clearly as he kicked his legs until his back slammed up against a dark tree branch, the quieting movement of the forest, it was alive, everything was alive, the trees moved, the dirt made lurching motions toward the helicopter, trying to consume it.
The forest was filled with vibrant life like the colors of fall that ran from tree to tree, as if someone had purposefully painted the forest. The leafless trees had colors of red, and black for their leaves. The bodies of his comrades made for perfect oreiments.
Then as quickly as the forest had started to move it went silent. The bark of the trees turned monochrome, and Yarost felt the tension thick in the air now, as if someone held a knife behind his head. The helicopter's debris spread out all around the forest like a scattered jigsaw puzzle. The striking green forest grass looked clean although soot and ash ran over it.
Yarost slowly rose to his feet, regarding everything around him with a quizzical gaze. He was questioning whether or not the forest had actually moved or if he was hallucinating from the crash. Maybe his brain wracked too hard as he fell.
It was a miracle he even survived.
He slowly calmed himself down, feeling his body wounds, and he found none, surprisingly. He then checked his equipment and couldn't find his machine gun anywhere he looked, and the knowledge that he was unarmed made him feel as if he was naked.
He fashioned a sharp spear out of an unordinary long and durable piece of wood that he found on the ground, thanking his wilderness training to the point of tears. The moon was already high in the sky, and he thought about the rock that managed to destroy his helicopter. It became alarmingly clear that something was hunting him and that it was the forest itself.
Yarost stumbled over tree roots as he made his way through the forest, he thought of the old temple, he could perhaps use it as a shelter. But the forest was difficult to navigate, as if the trees purposefully bunched together to hinder his path forward. Even though he counted that as a possibility, he didn't want to believe the forest itself was trying to kill him.
He stumbled upon an impossible planted wall of trees that didn't allow him passage forward, causing him to turn direction, his foot getting caught in a loop and throwing him to the floor. But Yarost thought a beast had pulled him so he stabbed his poorly crafted makeshift at the branch, and to his surprise, and horror, the branch let go of him wriggling and screaming like a worm.
The sight shocked him to the core, but he heard the trees move, and he clambered to his feet to begin running.
The forest was coming for him.
"You can't be fucking kidding me." He wheezed. The trees in front of him swayed and swung a deathly claw toward his face, Yarost, with a curse rolled beneath the claw, his spear readied to lash out but he was caught in a flurry of strikes from the tree causing him to dodge over and over again, diving, swerving, and striking out with his spear.
The trees were gigantic, their holes where nests of birds and animals should've been were replaced with gaping maws and the jagged maw of a wolf with serrated teeth.
It swung again, and Yarost slid closer and stabbed the tree driving his spear into the bark that felt malleable like flesh.
It lashed out in anger, striking him square on the chest, throwing Yarost dozens of feet backward. The dirt kicked up a dust cloud swirling around Yarost. His vest was torn to shreds from the blow, and he saw blood and dirt mix as he struggled to his knees, wheezing, out of breath, the strike had robbed him of any air in his lungs.
"You… Pissing… arse…" Yarost managed in labored breaths.
A glint of light caught his eyes through the dust. He looked closer, trying to discern what he was exactly seeing between the trees.
A corpse laid tangled up in vines, it appeared to be slowly being eaten by a smaller tree, trying to work its courage up to swallowing it whole. He looked closer and saw that this scene was being repeated all around him.
The tree lumbered closer as he looked around, its frightening claw-like branches raised high in the air. Yarost dodged out of the way as it brought it down, another cloud of dust, and soot being thrown in the air, and he begun running again, limping toward the only clear direction that he had toward the temple.
The tree roared in anger storming toward him and swiping at him again. Yarost turned around, and suddenly dove in a random direction slamming himself up against a tree. The tree roared and its hand suddenly twisted direction.
Yarost tried diving but his arm was caught, and a piece of his flesh was cleaved off. He screamed in pain and anguish, and the tree's sickening maw formed a sickening smile.
The tree was relishing in its victory, its claws stretched over him teasing him with his impending doom.
The spear Yarost had stuck into it was still there.
Yarost with a hand clutching his crippled arm, scanned for ways to survive. Beams of moonlight stalked its way onto them, lending to the forests more mythical status. The tree slammed its palm above him like a cage, crumpling slowly around him, driving the dirt from its home and sliding it away as the blade-like claws ever encroached onto him.
Thinking had grown harder, and the pain had grown even more painful. Fury clouded Yarost. It was unending. To die like this! It was impossible! Yarost's shaking hand clawed its way into his wound.
He roared, throwing himself off the ground and toward the tree's lonesome bark. It cackled like a maniac and crushed its branches, a pool of blood was made, blood like a flowing river flew out of Yarost's fast moving body.
His leg, and his arm, was lost.
Despite this Yarost with his single arm gripped the spear that he had left in the tree's bark, and ripped it out, causing it to scream and try to move its branches back, only to find them stuck in the dirt while it was playing.
A moment too late, the tree felt Yarost drive his spear into its open maw, still open from it screaming, it choked, and a bloody sap poured from the end of the spear that drove straight through the tree.