There was no need for a tent this evening, so he made a bed of moss and lay on it. He listened to the night sounds of the forest for a few moments, but soon fell asleep and began dreaming of animals and people. He dreamed of Amalija perched and spread atop him, staring down at him in curious shock. He dreamed of the god damn Messerschmitt dropping incendiaries onto straw huts and burning furres alive as they fled. A human emerged from the rubble. He was tall, blonde and dressed in a black SS uniform with the skull and crossbones on his officer cap. His thin face was illuminated by the blazes.
“You deserting piece of shit,” the unknown man said as he looked down at Hans.
“No!!!”
That woke him up. He’d forgotten where he was, and so the morning sounds of the forest were confusing, but there was nothing to fear from this place.
Just a bad dream. With a sigh of relief he continued his trek eastward, letting the sun be his compass. Naturally he had no idea how far this forest stretched. It could be days before he saw anything.
Hans met many animals on his quest to the other side. As he moved on, there was quite a number of wild hares. On his approach they’d scamper out of their thickets, ears folded down, and run off.
It took three more nights to reach the forest’s end. Hans smiled and sighed in relief when he laid eyes upon cultivated land, strips of field, meadows and a trodden footpath. He pulled out a stalk of oats and chewed on it. Everything looked warm, welcoming and human. Well, maybe not quite human, but someone would be there for him.
After a short hour on the footpath Hans came face to face with a well atop a hill. A wooden pipe carried water from the well into a wooden trough down at Hans’ level. Delighted, he drank the cold water and heard the mooing of a cow nearby. He ran up the hill to scan the area. Straw huts, just a few, peeked up over elderberry trees.
He approached one of the straw huts, glancing from side-to-side for any sign someone was watching him. There was a rabbit boy at the front of the house playing in the mud. Unlike the forest lapines he saw hours ago, this boy was dressed. With a clink-clank of his gear Hans came up to the boy.
“Hello, Kamerad. Are your parents home?”
The rabbit boy puffed up his cheeks and ran screaming into the hut, dragging some of the mud with him. Hans followed him and peeked into the dark hut.
“…HALLO?”
“What is it you want?”
A creaking voice answered back in suspicion.
That was a tough question. What did he want? Food? A place to settle down for good? A way back home? Affections of another curious furred woman? That was always nice.
“Ah, just to say hello. But if you offer any bread I certainly wouldn’t refuse. I haven’t seen anyone in four days. Just came out of the forest.”
An elderly woman, probably the boy’s grandmother, emerged from some basement cavern into the hut.
“A human? Where did you escape from?”
“Um, Ostia.”
“Ostia? Any news from there?”
“Well, ah, the Foxen tried to enslave me and I had to blow a hole in the city wall to escape. Other than that, no news.”
“Hmpf. Make yourself useful and help me cut these sticks so I can finish making this soup.”
“Umm, alright…”
He pulled out a pocket knife and began cutting away at the twigs on the table. The boy occasionally peeked out from the basement cavern, but as Hans turned around the boy would always scamper away. While he was working, the woman tossed Hans some spare scraps of bread.
The door soon opened and a grown couple walked in, maybe a husband and a wife. Like the others, they were also clothed, not to mention taken aback by the sudden presence of a heavily-armed human.
“Hallo I am just vis—”
The male pulled Hans into the light to get a better look at him, but then laughed and gave Hans a friendly tap on the shoulder.
“He’s a warrior of some kind,” the grandma said, “But I really don’t know what.”
“Maybe he’s one of those travelers from the other world,” the young wife said after looking Hans over.
“The other world?”
Well, he was from another world, after all.
“Yeah,” the husband said, “up by Balaton Springs some strange beings appear out of nowhere sometimes. It’s probably magic. We don’t understand it at all.”
“Give the human some milk, he’s the only reason dinner’s ready so soon.” The grandma interjected.
The potato and carrot soup was modest but satisfying; the best meal he’d had in awhile. The milk made it even more filling. The boy joined them for the meal too, staring at Hans but saying nothing.
When Hans asked to stay overnight he was denied; there wasn’t enough space, but they did show him where the hay was outside. Then he asked the wife again about ‘Balaton Spring.’
“Oh, hehe. You might find someone there but I don’t recommend it. Nobody goes there these days because of the wolfie problems.”
“’Wolfie problems?’”
“Yes,” the husband said. “They’ve been coming down from the north more and more lately. They’re hunting game and hares in Balaton. Not good.”
“Is that the same place the other-worlders come to?”
“Yes.”
“Uh, would you mind if I went up there myself?”
“Just follow the footpath further and it will take you there. We won’t give you to any slavers, but please don’t stay around long. You’ll just attract too much outside attention.”
So that was how it was. Maybe if Hans took care of their “wolfie problem,” he could carve out a spot to live next to the rabbits without bothering them. These rabbits seemed friendly enough, and they’d likely make nice neighbors.
Hakenkreuz
It looked like rain was coming. Hans stared up at the dark blue clouds as they glided over the cultivated swath of land he stood upon. He’d been clanking his way up the lonely footpath for less than an hour, but already the forest encroached upon the oat and barley fields. Soon it would swallow them whole.
Lighting cracked out from the sky and sent Hans dashing for the dark cover of the woods. A wind-bent sign told him Balaton Springs lay ahead.
The scent of alkaline and hot water greeted Hans when he stepped into this particular forest. That must have been the ground-fed springs. Despite the rain, he followed his nose and wound up facing a pond. Heat radiating from the water enveloped him. Steam rose from the clear surface. He set up his bivouac not far from the spring. When he was done, he stripped naked and sat in the hot water while the storm made its way over him.
He could definitely get used to bathing here every day, at least until he got to the bottom of “the travelers” that apparently showed up here. The idea lingered in his mind that the ‘the travelers’ might be people like him who wound up here. Or maybe they wouldn’t even appear. As long as there was food around to eat, Hans was no longer in a rush to go anywhere.
He stared off into the treeline at the other end of the pond. No ‘wolfie problems’ came out at him yet, and Hans hoped things would stay that way.
His stomach growling again, Hans got out, dressed, ate the last of his hazelnuts and set out to forage before the sun set. Feeding one man on the move was easier than feeding hundreds. His eyes scanned the ground for berries or nuts. Hans followed the lake until he heard churning rapids ahead of him. A river fed water into the lake.
Then he saw what the lapines had warned him about. A gray-furred wolf lay flat on the muddy river bank. Its fur was madded and it crawled fruitlessly on its elbows to get further from the water.