Author's note: This is just a short companion piece to "Airplanes in the Night Sky." Snow was filling my dreams and I had to have some little adventure for Peter to embark on while he was finishing his time in the RAF. I hope you like meeting the sweet angel in this story. Oh, and I apologize for my bad German. :) I'm obviously American, aren't I? Enjoy!

Snow Angel

"Peter!" Warren shouted, gaining his friend's attention. Peter looked up. "Hurry up," Warren instructed. "You and I have orders to take a couple crates of supplies to a little village not far from here. The people need food because the soldiers who came through there took it all."

"Alright," Peter agreed. He snugged his coat on tighter and put his cap back on his head, stood up and followed Warren out into the cold February snow. The snow fell in heavy masses and Peter found it hard to see.

"Surely we're not flying?" Peter asked Warren.

"No," Warren answered. "We're to take one of the trucks."

"It's going to be a dangerous drive," cautioned Peter.

"I know, but we have to get this food there," replied Warren, as he pulled the collar of his coat up around his neck. "It sure is cold."

"Yes, it is," Peter agreed.

Shortly, the truck was loaded and Warren and Peter were on their way to the quaint village. The road was bumpy and torn. Several times Peter was afraid they wouldn't make it because large portions of the road had been blown out. As they drove north, there was always a flashing and a dim thundering coming from the right. Peter was thankful that he was no longer at the frontlines.

"Here we are," Warren announced as they entered a place that could hardly be called a town. Rubble filled the streets and they were unable to drive any further. The snow lightened the sky, making the remains of buildings look eerie. The ragged black tops cowered beneath the snow's onslaught. Slowly people began to melt out of the shadows. Peter saw a mother clasping her baby tightly as she ushered a younger boy forward. An older man with a pipe came to the door of the truck and spoke rapid German to Warren.

Warren climbed out of the truck and tried to explain that he and Peter brought food. The few who could understand English nodded thankfully and informed the others. Soon they were busy unloading the few crates in the back of the truck. The crates were opened and items were distributed. A hum filled the air and Peter looked overhead to see several German bombers flying over.

"Take deckung!" screamed the old man.

"Take cover!" Warren quickly realized. All the people ran back into the buildings, leaving Peter and Warren alone in the street.

"The supplies!" Peter exclaimed. Warren and Peter worked frantically to drag what they could to the side off the street away from the conspicuous truck. "Leave the rest!" Peter shouted to Warren as he heard the familiar whistling overhead.

"Come," beckoned the mother with the baby. She pulled them inside just as the first stray bomb exploded farther up the street. "Every time they fly over, they drop a few bomben," she explained. "We live in constant fear."

Another whistling was heard, this time quite near. Peter moved back from the doorway but as he did, he noticed a little girl standing petrified in the middle of the street. He knew he had to try to save her. Peter dashed out the door and scooped her up. He quickly fell into the snow behind one of the crates, careful not to hurt the child. The bomb exploded and Peter could feel the vibrations into the ground as the wet snow quickly soaked into his trousers.

The little girl clung to Peter and he held her tightly against his chest, shielding her from flying debris. He could feel her sharp breathing begin to calm as she realized she was safe. His eyes focused on the little girl clasped in his arms. She could be no older than eight. She was wearing only a tattered nightgown. Her lips seemed blue and her hands were freezing in the grasp of his larger, warmer hands.

Peter scanned the sky but found that the bombers were gone. The tremors in the ground had settled and the snow continued to fall undisturbed to land on the two. The snow settled on the little girl's dark hair and her thankful eyes turned to him. Peter knew he couldn't leave her shivering in the cold. He quickly took of his coat and placed it on her shaking shoulders.

"Danke," she whispered, tears filling her eyes and her lips trembled. She held on to him and buried her face in his shoulder. Peter comfortingly rubbed her back until she had stopped crying. She climbed off of his lap and stood in front of him.

"Do you speak English?" Peter asked. The little girl shook her head, not understanding. She rattled off in German. Peter shook his head. She frowned and looked up at the snow swirling steadily downward. She pointed up and then pointed to Peter.

"I don't understand," Peter said. "Do I come from the sky?"

The girl reached her hand out towards Peter's face and gently poked his cheek with her finger. Peter smiled back at her. Her finger felt cold on his face but he didn't care. Peter reached out and softly tucked one of her curls behind her ear. Her dark eyes sparkled and she laughed as she gently began to brush the snow off Peter's hair. Then she gave him a little kiss on his cheek and whispered, "Angel."

Though she had called him angel, Peter knew that she was the true angel. And as she ran off into the thick snow in her dirty nightgown with his coat, Peter couldn't help but think of her as a little snow angel.

Author's note: I hope you thought it was cute! There is potential for a second part eventually if everyone would like to hear more about Peter's little snow angel. Let me know what you think! Review. :)