The Wolf Ballet || WW2

3. The Wolf Ballet

Chapter Three

"Diesen Weg! Diesen Weg!"

Ophelia gasped, as Gestapo men sped past her, forcing her into the crevices of ruined Polish buildings. She held her hand firmly on her chest as she watched the armed invaders gather around Szucha Avenue. A building once intended to be a holy ground was now being utilized by foreign foes as a headquarters. A few glanced at her as Ophelia rejoined the rocky sidewalk. One man held at her, a gruesome—honest smile. The sight of it caused the hairs on her neck to rise, and she had to turn away.

Unknownst to her, Ophelia had already been under the defiling spectacle of a Nazi man for weeks. Hauptmann Hansel Durchdenwald watched as the young, delicate, beauty pace and disappear at the corner. Like a white soft bunny, he watched her leave.

He had every urge to go after her as she had finally acknowledged him, but he had greater means to attend to. Lieutenant Arthur Von Wolff is said to return from his premature leave of absence. A favor granted to him only solely due to the victorious advancement of his platoon and riflemen. Wolff, who was of greater ranker than Durchenwald—a lieutenant colonel. The man was seemly the dark horse of the Wehrmacht.

The twenty-seven-year-old was anxious to meet the infamous assault leader. Wolff, who although was hardly well received amongst the troops, was meant to end lives—a fact, not even the Führer could deny. Keeping the boy locked up until he is needed, is a selfish, yet understandable display of power.

Looking back toward the direction in which the exotic Polish beauty went, Hansel purred mischievously, noticing the trail of red flower petals she had left in her hurry.

'Plant shop?' the captain thought.

Wiping his lower lip with the base of his thumb, he calmly turned around and marched back in through the long stone doorway of the Gestapo headquarters.

"Zurück an die Arbeit!" He shouted as he walked by. Demanding for the lingering men to get back to work.

_________

Ophelia felt relieved upon entering the tranquility of the dormitory halls. Looking down at the bouquet of roses in her hand, she sighed, regretting not acting tender to its delicate corolla. Setting them down, gently, in the foyer. Her eyes examined the place around her. The dark rosewood corridors were still as fallen debris catered the polished floors. The gigantic clock near the stairwell was still working, its boundless ticking working as a reminder of lost time.

Slowly making her way up the stairs, Ophelia was greeted with empty rooms and cold beds. Dressers and closet doors were left ajar as it was obvious many fled in pace. Upon reaching hers, she had expected to be greeted with the same, though it was apparent that was unlikely.

Ophelia was stunned to see a disconsolate Olga sitting on her bed. Her eyes gazed upon the shielded window in the center of the room.

Bags were stationed near the edge of the bed, one still left unpacked, whilst small things scattered the floors. Almost as if they had been thrown in a moment's rage.

"Olga," Ophelia breathe.

The mass of curly brown hair turned to face Ophelia, large brown eyes widening before hindering with curiosity.

"Why are you still here?" Olga pressed with slight aggression. "Won't you leave like everyone else?"

Ophelia was careful as she walked further into the room. Her bed, which was across from Olga's was still nearly made. Her jewelry and clothing were in perfect condition, remaining as they were when she left in the morning.