“I’m proud of you, Jochen.”
The coarse, but oddly-soothing voice of Sepp Dietrich greeted him through the phone as he got back. Dietrich would request a Gold Cross for this, and Berlin never said ‘no’ to the Fuehrer’s commanding bodyguard.
“Thank you, sir…”
Emotion cracked through Jochen’s voice.
“…That means a lot… To me.”
Potato Masher
Cawing seagulls lead Hans to the port of Deltia. The turquoise bay was dotted with galleys and other sailing vessels, many of which crowded around various wooden docks. The other day, James had given Hans a map of the world, but Hans hadn’t looked at it until now. As Hans unfurled the map and saw three ports on the northern continent to disembark at. The map showed very little of the Northern Continent beyond the ports.
Hans decided on two things. First, he would make for biggest port on the Northern Continent, a place named Ostia. Second, he would not sneak on the boat. The jackals, which Hans learned were the main canine species in Deltia, were manning the busy port, and they soon helped Hans find an available merchant ship to Ostia. In about an hour, a planked ship with one bright red sail waded in to the nearby dock.
“There’s your ship, human. The one with the swan head on the bow, good luck.” A jackal pointed.
“Thanks! Thanks for your help,” Hans smiled and jogged up to the dock.
“Woah! You gotta wait for the cargo first!” the jackal said, putting a paw on Hans’ shoulder and pulling him back.
Men came down the bridge with sacks of grain atop big platforms, carrying them as if they were large pieces of furniture. Hans watched them as a warm gust of salty wind blew in his face. This sea journey might not be so bad.
Hans was the the first person to board the ship, with a long line of furres behind him. He stood on the deck and watched them file in. Most of them were a species he finally recognized; foxes.
The ship disembarked without so much as a word. Even still, For Hans it was a magnificent sight. He’d been to Hamburg and Kiel, but this felt so much more welcoming. Warmer, too. The sun’s rays bounced off that turquoise water and bathed everyone in warm sunlight. If only the others were here: Wollers or Wals, or anyone. They would probably be ecstatic. It would have been better with them, or even James, but today Hans was all by himself.
“Mom, why is that Human wearing potato mashers?”
A red-furred canine child pointed out at Hans. The mother scurried her boy away and avoided eye contact with Hans.
Deltia gradually faded from view and the monotony of the sea brought him back down into the cabin of that planked ship. At a time like this, there was only one good thing to do: Sleep. It was a pity that one couldn’t store up sleep for when the body couldn’t do so later.
Hans slept continuously, for the next few days only waking up to eat and relieve himself. His diet was just a few hard-tack vitamin biscuits from home and dried lamb meat. The jackal crew were friendly. The ‘foxen’ were anything but. Whenever Hans tried to ask one of them about the Messerschmitt, the foxen either ignored him or sneered at him.
After several days, chatter around him heralded their arrival to the North Continent. It was kind of funny: Disembarking from Deltia, every one of the passengers was leaning off the port, but hardly any of them were on deck as the boat sailed into Ostia’s docks, the brown-sand port that most of them probably called home.
Compared to where they had come from, Ostia was underwhelming. It was a line of sturdy docks, a storage silo and a brick-lain wall, all the same color as the sand. Hans squinted out and tried to determine the race of the figures going to and fro along the dock. As their vessel was pulled through the dark waters, Hans saw that the inhabitants of Ostia were indeed foxen.
With a soft thud the ship parked on the dock. A line of people began streaming out of the boat and two foxes in red stood at the end. Suddenly Hans wished he’d prepared better for the other side. His hands shook as he stood at the very end of the line. Slowly but surely the line got smaller and smaller, but unlike the people entering, Hans had no document. He wondered how they would react. Probably not well.
“Passbook or diplomatic entry…” The yellow-eyed foxen officer looked suspiciously Hans.
“I, uh, sorry. I didn’t know I needed anything.”
One of the other foxen turned around and headed for his post onshore.
“Please. I’m just looking for a comrade of mine, I won’t stay here if you don’t want me to.”
Like the others on the boat, this foxen ignored him. Hans wondered if they even understood what he was saying.
“I’m just looking to be with other humans. In, the Cottonwine Lands?”
Still no answer. Hans backed up onto the plank of the ship. The foxen grasped his hilted sword but still said nothing to Hans.
Where would they take him? Would he get out? Perhaps this was one of the places that enslaved humans. Hans pulled his weapon. The foxen twitched and reeled back as the human pointed that foreign barrel at him. There was only one way out of this.
A metallic chatter drummed out into the air, and the fox doubled over and crumpled up. Ahead was the wooden gate separating the port from the city. The gate was left open and Hans dashed for it.
About six other uniformed foxen heard the shots and came sprinting to the dock with corsairs in hand. Hans unstrapped a stick grenade and lobbed it a few good meters from the charging canines.
“RUN! It’s fire!”
They scattered, most of them retreating in the other direction. Then the blast went off. Hans didn’t look back to see what he had done, he just sprinted to the city wall. Those two wooden doors drew shut almost as soon as the grenade went off.
Hans unstrapped another stick-hand grenade and lobbed it to the door, causing the guard to panic and jump into his post. The explosion blew the doors apart in all directions. Hans pulled up his Mauser and shattered the glass at that guard post, just for good measure. His escape covered, he doubled down and bolted into the busy port town.
Chickens flew from carts and girls squealed as the strange human darted down narrow streets. Hans disappeared into the crowds and made his way toward a gate on the other edge of town. This gate was wide open, but two soldiers stood confused by the exit, as if they heard the explosion but didn’t get wind of what happened. They looked more interested in keeping people out than in.
Hans slipped between them and out of the gate, briskly walking along the clover-lined dirt trail that led to points unknown, trying his best not to arouse the guards’ suspicion.
“H-hey! Get back here!”
Master Sepp
Sepp Dietrich and the two wolfesses walked in the snow toward the setting sun. The girls led him through several forests and glades, and the three of them took turns carrying their fawn.
A young, grey-furred male wolf appeared from the trees at one point. The way he looked at them reminded Sepp of a dog he once owned. Like the girls, the male wore only animal skins. His body was painted with elaborate white markings.
“We’ve nothing for you!” Valvela growled at the male, who sunk back into the trees with a drooped tail.
They came upon a handful of others over the next couple hours; all wolves, and each of them male. Valvela had the same answer for all of them.
“Who were those other wolves?” Sepp turned to Valvela.
“Unknown. But they are not from our tribe.”
“Shouldn’t they be off fighting the Green Raiders? They look like they could be good warriors if they were all together.”