𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒 || 𝐎𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 || 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝟏 ✓

𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝑹𝒖𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒂...

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
𝑺𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏-𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓-𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒌

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𝑻𝑯𝑬𝒀 𝑺𝑨𝒀 𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 𝑰𝑻 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔, 𝒊𝒕 𝒑𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔.

I believe the same could be said for snow.

The vast expanse of land stretched out before me, blanketed in an endless sheet of white, its pristine surface betraying the harsh reality it concealed. The snow wasn't just cold-it was suffocating, a silent tyrant that smothered everything in its path. Trees, once tall and proud, now stood brittle and skeletal under the weight of winter.

The horizon was a blur of pale gray, where the snow-laden sky met the frozen earth, blending into a canvas of monotony and despair.

My fingers throbbed, the ache dull and persistent as if the cold had seeped into my very bones. The gloves, thin and frayed, were more a cruel joke than a barrier against the biting chill.

Each breath escaped my lips in shallow, uneven clouds, dissipating into the unyielding air. The cold wasn't just outside-it had invaded me, settling deep in my chest, making my movements sluggish and my thoughts slower. My body felt like a brittle, cracking shell.

Winters in Russia were bad. But they weren't as bad as winter in this camp.

The camp was hell frozen over-a sprawling wasteland of trenches and barracks that reeked of suffering. The stench of unwashed bodies mingled with the metallic tang of blood and the ever-present musk of damp earth.

The ground beneath us was a treacherous mix of ice and slush, threatening to pull us under with every step. The trenches were barely wide enough to sit in, let alone find any semblance of comfort. And yet, this hole in the ground was the only place where the wind's icy fingers didn't cut as sharply.

My lips were chapped, teeth clattering as I turned to see my training partner, slumped on the ground, already shivering himself to death. I sighed, watching my breath escape in visible clouds, a grim reminder of the cold seeping into my bones. He was younger than me, inexperienced, and it hurt to watch him struggling like this. He reminded me of that one kid-Amo.

A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of him. I wondered how he was doing right now, probably warm in fucking Sicily. I hated that. I envied that. His parents were absent and distant, sure, but still they would never have let him suffer like this.

I closed my eyes, memories flooding in-his golden eyes, always peering through those thick glasses, his dark hair falling over his forehead in that familiar, messy way. The subtle blush on his face whenever I caught him staring at me for too long, like he didn't know how to hide it.

It was strange, the way I felt-aching with longing, bitterness gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. He had everything, didn't he? The warmth, the comfort, the luxury that I could only dream of. And yet... here I was, freezing my ass off, caught between a training session that felt more like torture and the painful memory of a boy who had no idea just how much I envied his life.

"товарищ ?" a voice broke through the haze of exhaustion and pain. It was distant at first, like an echo carried on the wind, but it grew clearer as I blinked myself back to the present. [comrade]

I was seated in the trench, my body slumped against its frozen wall, legs curled to my chest in a vain attempt to conserve heat. My head nodded involuntarily, the pull of sleep overwhelming despite the frigid conditions.