"Grandpa? Can you tell the story again? Your story?" Ivana asks with her childish smile, her beautiful dimples and rosy lips.

"Sure. But this is the last time." Gilbert answers calmly and opens his diary.

This is his story, the truth within his own life from years ago. He has re-read this notebook more than 100s of times, and he can remember everything with details. Here he has another fan. Ivana will listen to his story quietly, with interest. With love and with the same bright spirit her mother holds.

Gilbert pats her hair and smiles.

"December 1944..."

Gilbert POV

It was a brutal day. The wind was blowing through my bones and breathing was hard.

I was aimlessly walking done the woods, without a map, without a sign or without someone who could guide me. I felt so hurt by the time; I had just lost my brother to the murderers. I lost him to the war. I missed him so much, it hurt me a lot. Ludwig was only 18 years old; I should've been dead instead of him. He was a beautiful man, a dedicated, loyal man.

But his eyes never met the beauty of the world again. He was gone, lucky him!

I ran away from my boss with the fake passport I found. It was very hard, yet I managed it somehow. There was no return. Maybe, I was just one hell of a lucky bastard to free myself from the German community, but I wasn't much happier with in Russians, as well. My life was in danger, they could catch me anytime. With a false passport and name, identity and a few vocabs I knew, they weren't enough. I had learned Russian from a friend years ago, before the war had started. Thanks to him, I could solve my simple problems, but it wasn't enough to empower my false Russian identity. A Russian who couldn't speak Russian!

For weeks I was walking aimlessly through the villages and the woods. The winter was cruel and I couldn't continue on my journey. Even pushing myself wasn't helpful. It only hurt my feet and shortened my breathes. It was such a beautiful yet wild view!

My mind was set on a place, where nobody knew me. Alone. In coldness of Russia.

As I was walking down to near a stream to frozen water, I felt my knees weaken. I fell.

I had never felt this cold before. The water was freezing, my lungs burned. My fingers were numb and the coldness pressed my body and my skin felt clammy.

I had never drunk that much amount of water in my life! Jesus Christ helped me pull myself up in a corner. It was freezing. The sky was dark, which reminded me of the hours of floating in water. At least I didn't die.

I pull myself to the shore.

I was so tired and in pain, that I gave up. My body wasn't responding anymore, so I just lie down on my back on the shore of the stream. The sky was cloudy, and sometimes through the darkness, when the sky cleared, I could see the sparkling stars ahead. It was beautiful.

Eventually, I fell asleep and lost my timing again.

The very first thing I heard on the next morning was the crunching sound of frozen snow. It sounded like a foot step to me. I wondered if it was a boar or a wolf, worse a tiger. I played dead until the steps stopped. I opened my eyes slowly to observe my surroundings.

As soon as I opened my eyes, a face appeared. It was so close to me, I freaked out.

I crawled back and hit my head at a tree. The man just looked at me. Maybe confused.

He huffed and buried his face with a scarf. The winter mantel and Ushanka were all dark, making his half naked face shiny. He was so pale.

I held my breath; this man could be one of them! Did he follow me this far? If so why wasn't he killing me? Again, I was so startled.

I moved a little and the man drifted his eyes away. He stood up and looked around him.

He gestured towards me and said something. It was so windy that I could barely hear him.

"Huh? What?" I asked in broken Russian.

"Stand up." That was all I could hear, better said: understood.

I slowly managed to stand even though my body protested against it. It hurt my muscles to take a long step between the knee length snows. It could have been worse!

I was following the unknown Russian without any questions. He walked ahead.

We were in middle of the woods, in darkest of the places, when he stopped. He motioned towards me.

As I looked at my side, far behind a set of full, tall trees, there was a small house. The smoke from chimney showed that it was warm. I changed my direction towards the house. I felt so relaxed when I stepped inside the house. It had a carpet! A curtain and a warm aura. I felt so at ease. I took my jacket and boots off. It felt so good to feel the warmth of a burning fire once again, for I had stayed out for nearly three weeks!

It was odd for me to see that a Russian was willing to help me. Yet, he never knew a thing about my past. I was the Russian man, who loathed Germany... And Germans.

As I slept, I dreamed about my brother. His body was still wet with his blood, but he smiled at me and left me alone. I woke up and saw the same man sitting frame on a chair beside the fireplace. He was reading a book. I could read a little Russian, but not as good as to understand.

"You... up." I hardly understood. I nodded.

"Good. You... food... eat. Cold." Ugh, it was so hard to interpret his words. His voice was deep and his dark blue eyes stared at mine. Maybe I seemed different; I was different because of my albinism. An albino was rarely found in a jungle wearing a military uniform.

"Thank you." I ate the food. It was potato and chicken soup. I hadn't had a real food since before. I smiled at him. He just looked at me with the same expression. I was never good at reading people, he was unreadable.

He gathered all the dishes and put them on the sink, and I secretly watched him from behind. He was muscular, tall and broad shouldered. I knew that he was a soldier from his posture. His straight shoulder and perfect position were obvious to one of elite privates.

He turned back and handed me a cup. I drank it without much care, the drink was clear. But, my throat started to burn. I coughed so badly, the drink felt like swallowing hot oil.

He just smiled and rose a bottle. Now, I noticed that it was vodka. Typical Russian drink.

"Vodka good." I tried to smile, but my throat was still sizzling.

"No." I coughed again. He laughed this time. His was voice so deep and horrifying.

"You aren't Russian, are you?" I was so astonished with his question. Suddenly, every word he said made sense. He was speaking German.

"What?" I asked in Russian, but he only narrowed his eyes with a smile.

I was afraid of him. I felt as if I was to get caught, but just nodded his head and muttered something in Russian I couldn't understand.

"I can speak German fluently; don't torture yourself by talking Russian. Your accent," He was right. I sucked at Russian. He smiled again, and I just admitted the fact.

"Yes. I am German." He stopped to take a moment and look at me, but continued on reading, without uttering a word anymore.

...

Sorry for the mistakes. If you liked this chapter or found any mistakes, please make sure to inform me. It helps me to get better.