Dinah

So He Is

The boys were awoken again by the angry clanging of a bell, and quickly packed up and were on the road again within the next hour. The sunrise still teased green and purple on the horizon, too far away to warm the frozen ground.
Order was slack today, and people shouldered their weapons to shove hands in pockets, or rub them together. Everyone had gloves, but they were thin and ineffective. Loose groups formed, and later in the day the officers were lax enough that conversations started.
Constantijn loitered with a few of them for a while and then found himself walking alone, hands shoved deep in his pockets and his rifle rubbing awkwardly on his shoulder. He'd never gotten the chance to go shopping for earmuffs or gloves or a decent pair of long underwear. Maybe he would write home and ask for something.
"Constantijn?" He turned and saw a boy walking up - it must have been Gotti, because he hadn't told anyone else his first name, and he got a better look at the other man now.
Gotti was on the shorter side, but sturdily built as opposed to Constantijn's string-bean stature. He carried himself with his shoulders back and chin up, although that was probably just because he was short. But it gave him an air of confidence - whether he really was or not, Constantijn wasn't sure.
"Gotti," He greeted him with a nod.
"You sleep okay last night?" Gotti asked, "You know, other than the Aktion?"
Constantijn shrugged, "Good enough. You?"
"Same here,"
They walked in silence, then, until Constantijn decided that he'd better make some sort of conversation because the two of them seemed to be of the same opinions, and besides that it'd be rude otherwise, "So where're you from?" He asked.
"Kassel," Gotti said, "What about you?"
"Mannheim," Constantijn replied, then added, "But not the big city. It's just a little town, close to Muhlberg. Hardly on any maps,"
Gotti smiled, "Funny,"
They fell silent again. Constantijn decided he did silence better than conversation, and he should like to be friends with the same kind of person. To walk in this comfortable quiet next to a person who also didn't want to blindly follow one man and his irrational desires, made him feel a little less closed in by - well, everything.
"You excited to get home?" He asked suddenly.
Gotti raised an eyebrow curiously, "We've only been moving for three days. We're not even halfway there yet."
"Yeah," Constantijn said, "But aren't you excited to get home?"
"Sure," Gotti rolled his eyes, "I take it you are, too?"
"Uh-huh."
"You got a girl or something, don't you?"
Constantijn shook his head fervently, heat creeping up his neck as he thought of Magdalena, "No. Do you?"
At this Gotti smiled and dug into his pocket, "Yeah. Claramond," He pulled out his wallet, and took a rubbed out black-and-white from the innermost pocket. The picture was smaller than his palm and he held it gingerly by the corner as he showed it to Constantijn, "That's her,"
Claramond had dark hair and one tooth that stuck out, and freckles smattered all over her face. In the picture she was smiling widely.
Constantijn recognized her features and looked sharply at Gotti, "She's a J-"
"Sh!" Gotti hissed, his gaze darting around. Then he looked back at the ground, "She was away visiting friends when her family was taken. She's staying with a peasant family in the countryside," He looked around again, "Listen, you can't repeat this to anyone. She's dead otherwise."
Constantijn nodded solemnly.
"Thank you." Gotti smiled, genuinely. "Is it weird of me to think I might have made a friend?"
Constantijn grinned, "No," He said, "Not at all."

When dusk came, word started travelling through the ranks: the people who went ahead to search for lodging had found nothing, and they were going to stop at the next wide spot in the road. Eventually they reached a bridge, and the guard in the guardhouse there directed them to what he said had been a popular place  for hunting, and that there were plenty of deer for food.
The news resched Gotti and Constantijn, and the former grinned, "I like deer meat," He commented, "My father would season venison with salt and cook it with vegetables. It was good,"
Constantijn smiled, "That sounds good. My father never did much cooking, and we didn't have deer meat either. Beef, and chicken, or fish,"
Gotti nodded, "What's your favorite?"
"Meat?"
He shrugged, "Food, in general."
"Oh," Constantijn smiled again, "I think white bread."
"White bread?" Gotti exclaimed, "You're weird, Con'. Mine's feta casserole."
Constantijn shrugged, "It's just really good. Fluffy. Warmed up and spread with butter. And you can put stuff on it - your feta casserole, for instance."
"Ehhh..." Gotti faltered, "I like potato bread better."
"Oh, that's good, too," Constantijn nodded concedingly.
They were quiet again. Constantijn was reveling in how good it felt to have a friend.
"Hey!" Someone in front of them said, "We found the spot!"
The two of them craned their necks to see up ahead. It was a simple clearing, some ways off the road, down a slope of rocks and coarse grass. There was one deer, just visible among the leaves of the surrounding wood.
"Someone shoot it!" Gotti burst.
"Shhh!" Constantijn hissed, "You'll scare it away."
Suddenly, a single shot pounded the air and the deer dropped.
They made their way down the slope to the clearing, and a short exploration of their surroundings didn't turn up much. Several of the boys dragged the deer out of the wood to gut it and Gotti went to join them.
Constantijn walked around the edge of the circle, looking through the woods for any more deer or other wildlife that might lend themselves towards edibility, although by now it seemed they'd scared them all away. Constantijn found a small plum tree and filled his hat with the purple fruit to take back to the group. Then something shiny caught his eye, buried in the dirt.
Glancing around furtively, because for some reason he felt he shouldn't be seen, he crouched down and dug into the dirt with his fingers. He unearthed a small gold disc, marked with characters he didn't understand, with a small hole at the edge.
Shoving it into his pocket, he made his way back to where two boys were building a fire in the center of the clearing, and others brought wood from the forest to dump next to it, "Hey, I've got some plums here, you can add them to the pot," He said, nodding towards the big cast iron pot.
"Sure," The one who seemed to be in charge held out his hand. He was taller, scrawny, and his ears stuck out bright red, "We'll get your hat back to you once the others get some water to put in here. The mess wagon ran out, they're trying to find a spring,"
"Sure," Constantijn said, and went over to where Gotti was attacking the deer with gusto.
He glanced up momentarily as Constantijn approached, "Hey, Constantijn," He grinned, "I started talking about how we could use all the parts of the deer and they left. I think I made a couple of 'em queasy talking about intestines."
"Right," Constanrijn looked at the deer, "I'd love to help you but I've not the slightest idea how to butcher anything besides a fish,"
Gotti looked up, "Deer skin is a lot tougher than fish scales,"
"It's nice, though," Constantijn sat down and ran his hand over the tawny brown fur. The gold piece bit into his pocket and he pulled it out, "Hey, I found this in the dirt. Check it out," He passed it over.
Gotti took it in his bloodied hands and his eyes widened, "Hey, that's Yiddish," He glanced around. They were somewhat isolated. Gotti studied it and said, "Claramond taught me some. I think it says... 'As he thinks in his...' -I think it's 'heart, so he is.' That's a Jewish proverb," He looked up and passed it back over.
"As he thinks in his heart, so he is," Constantijn repeated, tucking it in his inside pocket again. "I like that."
"Better not get seen with that," Gotti said. "I'll make you a cord to tie it to your tags,"
"Thanks." Constantijn smiled.