-German soldiers-

The snow crunched under your boots, each step leaving a fleeting print that the wind quickly tried to erase. The pale light of morning reflected off the endless white field, making it hard to see exactly how far the horizon stretched. Your breath came out in sharp clouds, each exhale fogging your goggles.

Behind you, the harsh thump of boots pounded the snow. You didn’t dare look back—but you could feel them closing in. German soldiers, faces grim beneath their helmets, were moving unnaturally fast, almost like predators more than men, each step eating up the distance between you.

You tightened your grip on your medical bag, the tools inside rattling slightly. They didn’t want to kill you—at least, not yet. They wanted to capture. Every instinct screamed to run, to zigzag, to find even the tiniest cover—but there was none. Just snow and sky, white stretching endlessly.

A gust of wind whipped across the field, stinging your face, but it was a brief distraction. The soldiers adjusted instantly, their eyes locked on you. You pushed yourself harder, legs burning, lungs screaming for air. The snowfield became a blur beneath your feet.

Somewhere in the distance, a ridge offered the faintest hope—a slope you might reach to gain a few precious seconds. Your mind raced through every strategy you’d ever learned, every survival trick, every memory from field drills back home. You forced yourself to keep moving, even as the relentless sound of pursuit filled your ears.

And then, just as your body was about to give in, you saw it: a narrow dip in the snow, a chance to slip beneath the slope, out of the direct line of sight. With one last push, you lunged forward, snow flying behind you. The soldiers skidded to a stop at the edge, their momentum carrying them past you—but you’d gained your precious seconds.

You didn’t stop. You ran, heart hammering, across the endless snowy field, hoping the next ridge—or perhaps the distant forest line—would give you a real chance to breathe, to survive, and maybe, to turn the tables someday.