When you think your joke of life couldn't get any funnier, it gets hilarious, I never said I was a saint, the things I've done, the people I've hurt, the sins I committed I did for my people, and without hesitation, I'd do it all again, I never regretted anything, except the moon was bright that night as well, it's dull glow gave little light, but the night was never dark, it had not been dark since the first rocket flew over our home and decimated everything we built.
It was 1942, in the heart of the Second World War, or was it the third? I tend to forget, these humans and their wars, the smallest things set them off, who did what, who spoke to whom, who helped who did what, they'd break into factions and murder each other till the ground soaked blood red, and the wind carried cries of the lives lost, we'd hear them over here in our little borrow…
We learned to stay away from humans a long time ago, and let them fight their wars themselves, we huddled into packs hiding deep in forests, most packs didn't interact with each other, and not all wolves got along, I suppose in that sense we were much like the humans, bloodthirsty, greedy, and a little empty.
That night was like every other, the siren went off and as part of the protocol we were to run, run and hide in the nearest shelter, the nearest borrow, a freaking nook in the trees if you had to, you were never too far from a bomb shelter, except that night I had gone out farther than the borders of our little town, the bombs hadn't fallen in a while, the earth didn't shake with the ferocity of lives lost, nor did the sky streak read like lines of fire, so I naively believed the war was over, I didn't check in with anybody, especially not my father who I hadn't seen in a while, always far too busy running from one place to the other, checking damages, treating the wounded, ensure our people didn't starve and fortifying our borders against rivaling packs
It was like the war awakened something in them, their more human side, packs began turning on each other, pillaging, fighting, Killing, spilling blood to plunder land or just even for the fun of it, the closest pack to us was the Fracti Luna, a stupid name for a pack if you ask me.
Those Monsters had taken so much from us since the start of nowhere, they'd appear out of thin air like the very gates of hell swung open and lead them to our borders, They stole everything that wasn't nailed to the ground, they killed our people, slaughtered them in cold blood, and stole our land, they are nothing but animals who deserve no mercy.
They were also why Father warned against traveling too far out if it wasn't the bombs it was them, but I refused to cower, I refuse to give them the satisfaction of fear, so when the bombs hadn't fallen in a while I traveled outside to pick herbs, we we're running low on medicine, the war will do that to you, we had amputees sucking on sap leaves in hope of easing their pain, I thought if I could go a little farther if I could find some herbs, I could be helpful, and when Father gets over his initial anger maybe he might acknowledge me.
The forest was pleasant, the shaking leaves played a melody from distant times, back when we knew peace, a forgone memory
I came intending to pick medicinal herbs but when I saw the bush of wild berries I couldn't resist, my basket was full in no time, the bombs hadn't gotten out this far and no one dared leave the border much less to come picking herbs, the fields grew wild and untamed, everywhere I turned I could find one fruit or the other, one medicine or the other, a flower that cured morning sickness, a root that eased drowsiness, a suckle that when mixed with honey works as a disinfectant, it was easy to get lost in my haul.
It wasn't till the sounds of sirens blaring in the distance derailed my train of thought, that the panic gripped me like a vice, it had been so long, I had come too far out, and there wasn't a bunker to be seen for miles, and the alarm came too late, in the distance I could see the warheads like dogs of war locked on our scent, they were coming RIGHT AT US?!
We've never been targeted, a loose fire here and there, some shrapnel, a few shockwaves, but never hit directly! Those bombs were coming and they were coming for us!!
I scramble to my feet, running through that dirt road tripping over stones and wet grass, I'll never make it back to the pack before these bombs hit, with every glance over my shoulder the dots in the distance get bigger and bigger, and the sirens so loud they beat against the side of my skull, I'm still young, I never met my wolf, if I had I could have ran back to the pack in no time at all, right now I was as weak as those pathetic humans.
If I'm to make it in time I'll need to cut through the Forest, father would never approve, but cutting through the forest would be the least disobedient thing I did today
Running through the thicket of trees was murder on my ankles, the twigs snagged against my dress, and branches appeared out of nowhere I had to duck last minute to avoid slamming my head against the side of the tree, my reflexes were sharp but not sharp enough, I tripped over a root sticking out of the ground which sent me tumbling giving scrapes and cuts as I rolled across the forest, stopping next to a tree, my back screamed in agony as a piece of bark dug into my back, and I was covered in mud with dirt between my fingers, I grip the nearest tree pulling myself to my feet when the first bomb landed.
A sonic boom shook the earth beneath me, gripping the bark with shaky fingers to steady myself, I could feel splinters digging into my hand, that was the first of many, the next was a barrage of bombs each one more furious than the last, on shaky legs I scurried to gather my discarded herbs and berries, hugging the basket under my arm, with every bomb I am thrown to the ground, I rise and force my legs to run through the haze, run through the ruin, with every bomb I curse the bloodthirsty warmongers, and with every year I curse the Fracti Luna.
Almost there, I could see the borders around the packs, in a couple more steps I could make it, but a bomb landed close the shockwaves threw me across the Forest slamming my back against the trees, my vision blurred, and my head was spinning I could taste the blood on my tongue, my ankle screamed, I am so tired, what's the point of all of this? Why am I so desperately trying to run to a town on the verge of ruin, we've seen so many wars since the start of the 1900s, this was not the first and I might not even be the last, I am tired, maybe if I close my eyes, just a little
As my eyes fluttered closed from the corner of my lids I saw two feet sticking out from under a fallen tree, there's someone there!!, and they were hurt, I could smell blood, they'd bled so much, and if I left them they'd die.
An unnatural strength of mine, possessed by the smell of dirt and copper I dragged my battered towards them as the earth shook around us, the basket under my arm I crawled to the fallen tree.
Close enough I could finally see him, he was a handsome boy, at least that's what I was guessing, he was covered in mud but what I could see of his face didn't look too bad, he looked about my age, he was filthy, I couldn't tell if his hair was brown or black or if his skin was tanned or just grimy
He was unconscious, a fallen stump over his right leg and blood pooling out from the back of his head, like someone had hit them over the head with a club and left him there to die, the tree over his leg had it bent at a sickening angle, I feared that leg was done for, the tree was massive so there is no way I'd be able to move that, the only other option was to dig it out
Thankful for the wet ground I went to work digging out the dirt under his leg, every once in a while, he'd groan assuring me he was still alive, once in a while a bomb would and every inch of my body would jerk, and scream at me to run, to leave him, but every once in a while, I'd look at him and a fierce protectiveness washed over me, feelings I could not for the life of me put into words.
By the time I carved a big enough hole under him to drag his leg out from under the dirt the world around us was covered in smoke so thick breathing felt like acid going down your throat.
I was weak and tired and my ankle protested whatever little weight I put on it, forcing my body off the ground I wrapped my arms around his chest and pulled, staggering with each step I would not let him go, I pulled and pulled and pulled till I slid his leg out from under the fallen tree, my eyes burned, but I could make out our location and could see a few steps ahead of me, we were close to the border, meaning the nearest shelter would be through this mass of trees
My arms screamed at me, I had lost my shoe at one point, and my hair had flown out of its braids and stuck to my face against my sweat and dried blood when I saw the bunker. If I wasn't already crying I would have wept tears of joy.
This bunker was older than the others, one of the first models, it was nothing like the reinforced underground channels we have running under the entire pack, the was a simple trench dug on the surface with concrete coating as reinforcement and a steel lean-to as the entrance, my father discontinued these but he doubted their 'structural integrity', he was right for the most of it but beggars can't be choosers in these circumstances…
The bombing halted and I sent any gratitude to God all-mighty, leaning the stranger against a tree I grabbed the steel doors, this bunker hadn't been used in a while, that much was obvious, the outside was covered in dust and the hinges were rusted, no matter how much I pulled it wouldn't budge, I was ready to give up and just carry him into the village when the sirens changed, the tone became louder, more frantic, more urgent, which can only me one thing, a second wave.
They're carpet bombing us, I look above and warplanes soar about our heads like hell's angels, my mind went into overdrive grabbing the steel doors I pulled with every fiber of my being, my body ached, my joints screamed, I was crying blood and tears when the door finally creaked wide enough to squeeze a body, I drag him through the gap and slam the doors shut when it started, a series of bombs aimed to tear down any and everything in existence, the only sound to be heard was the sounds of explosives ricocheting off the ground
The bombs lit up the inside of the bunker brighter than the sun, it was empty save for a small bed in the corner, and a cupboard of supplies, my dad always made sure every bunker was equipped with medical supplies, food rations, and water, this bunker was fairly old so I wasn't expecting much but I was pleasantly surprised to find needles, scissors, bandaging and a fair amount of biscuits
The best thing about these old bunkers was that they had an underground escape route, the size of a crawl space leading lead to the lake, so we wouldn't have to worry about running out of water
What am I saying?!
Why am I worrying about running out of water?! We're only here till the bombs stop, we're not going to be here any longer than that.
Right?