Full summary: The kindest people you ever encounter are the probably the bravest, strongest and most jaded people you'll ever met. The difference between them and the other jaded souls, is the way they chose to deal with their lot in life. Cora Ackerman's fight in this war goes deeper then just against the titans. And it goes further then just killing the titans. Cora is a team captain, a strong woman that refuses to let go of her hopes and dreams in face of adversity (war-realistic perspective)

Authors note: I enjoy war-stories packed with action, and I'll try to produce as much as that as possible. But most of all, I desire to convey the pain, sufferings and hopes of a soldier at war. (Since I've never been in one, I referred to online accounts and my imagination ).

Chapter 1: Female titan

"Empathize with your enemy, it doesn't justify their actions, but it explains it to us. Maybe then, hate will stop. "

It was the cry of a cornered animal, desperate and afraid. Frantic for a way out. It was a cry I was so keenly familiar with; no dignity, no pride, no rules. In that moment, there is only one thing you hold to; to survive. It didn't matter if you walked away leaving a bloody trail or with one limb left on you, as long as you walked away.

What is she trying to do?

Then the stench of rotting flesh hit me accompanied by the horrifyingly familiar thumping of heavy footfalls. The thumpings that haunted my dreams every night, thumping that I never wanted to hear again, but thumpings that I always found myself running towards. For the sake of freedom we were each so willing to put our lifes on the line. Just like how she was.

"Defend the female titan, don't let them eat her! Defend her with your lifes!"

Ironic wasn't it? I am told to defend my enemy from herself. It was laughable, and yet so sad and painful, because what makes her so different from me? Her desperation is as blood curling as my own, too many times has the blood stained earth mocked me. I knew the extent she would go, just as I did in the past. No rules, only one goal.

Grappling hooks raced past me, men and women alike threw themselves in the frenzy. Their comrades didn't die just so that she could play "martyr". In a single day, her life was became the worth of at least a hundred lives, a hundred lives were given to capture her. And it was a hundred lives that I wasn't going to let go down the drain.

It didn't come to me as a surprise when Commander Erwin gave the order to withdraw, but my form remained still. I looked down and made eye contact with him, one look and the barest nod, before his strong form was shooting out through the trees.

I waited for the titans to gnaw her arm tendons off, and then like a pin being pull out of a hand-grenade, her hands fell off from her neck. I didn't wait for her form to emerge; my hook was already in her neck, my sword slicing through her muscle tendons. Any lesser man may have hesitated, afraid of killing the female within, but my sword was steady. My work was quick, but so was she. She must have felt my hook the moment it pierced her skin, with a knife already in her hand, her arm shot out at me. I sidestepped her half exposed form, and grabbed her arm, using her momentum, toppling her forward and hooked the back of my knee around her throat, crushing her windpipe. Immediately, with my free hand, I hit her pressure point at her shoulder, knocking her out.

I made quick work of her legs, slicing them off at her knees, where the joints were soft and easy to cut through. And I shoved sleeping drugs down her throat, careless of whether she would choke. The distinct sound of zipping line alerted me to the presence of another, whipping my head around, I was pleased to see familiar dull grey eyes meeting mine. Silently, we grabbed her form and shot out from the mess behind us.

Hange was waiting for us at the edge of the camp, when we arrived. We worked quickly, stripping her of all weapons and accessories before encasing her arms in metal vessels. We locked her body down and loaded her behind a veil on a wagon. We read each other's body language well, without words me and Levi moved off to mount our own horses, leaving Hange to inject whatever titan-lullaby-baby serum into the unconscious young girl.

I trotted over to Erwin's side, "we are ready to move."

"We can't leave! His body is still in the forest, we can't leave him there!" out of my field of vision, I heard desperate sobs of a young man.

So painfully reminiscent. How many times have I heard soldiers crying for the young lives of their friends?

"We promised to join survey crops and to fight for freedom together!" How they cry on the behalf of the broken and bleeding dreams that they had once promised to seek after together.

"Hey Cora, what are you fighting for?"

"Mmm, I don't know. To end, I guess. When we can wander outside these walls, climb trees and dance in rivers. When we can finally live without fear," I laughed with mild amusement, because honestly my dream was sweet but so faint. "Why do you ask, Farlan? What are you fighting for?"

"I fight for you. I fight for the people I love. I fight for the strangers that cheer me on. I fight for those who spit at our faces." He said as he turned his face to me. He grinned, "I like the world you dream of."

I scoffed, "It's just a dream, far and distant. More men then titans die every expedition. I hate sounding like a pessimist, but it's impossible."

"Nah, come on, sweetheart. The only place where your dream is impossible is in your own thinking." He rested his hand gently on my shoulder, "never stop pursuing your dream, when you dream, your life wakes up and everything has meaning."

"Quarrelling children?" Levi stepped in, his voice was stone cold, "If you have confirmed he's dead, that's enough. Whether or not you have the body, dead is dead. It doesn't change a thing."

"We will report Ivan and the others as missing", Erwin said as he moved to walk away, "that's my final decision, leave it at that."

"Do you both not possess any human feelings?" he cried out, struggling against the arms of his friend that sought to hold him back.

I reached out and gripped the young man tightly on his shoulder, "Ivan may be gone, but you are not." I placed my palm on his heart, "you carry his dreams and his hopes. You are his legacy. Just as every one of us here, is the living legacy of those who gave their lives today, yesterday and the last many years. The capacity to grieve is as much part of us as the capacity to love, grieve for your friend, let your heart break for him. But I'll tell you the truth, the tragedy of life is not death, but what we let die inside of us while we live. Grieve, but get up after that and keep fighting for the dreams you shared."

Stories of war glory never tell of the heartbreak, of the war-hardened young men and women who never forget.