The Sun had shied away back to its home beyond the horizon and let the spiny form of the crescent moon reside in its place high above in the sky. The woods were no place to rest, the wind raced hysterically past the trees beating out a sound reminiscent to that of wolves crying their woes to the moon. The trees became statues of bark, solemn and omnipotent in the wood, towering above all those who dared venture into it, their fingers clawing blindly into the night for prey to ensnare and capture. Luckily, the only people inside the woods were secure in the sanctity of a shack, built many years ago, yet still fully functional. Inside were the remains of three British paratrooper squads, and one French Resistance operative, all huddled next to the fireplace.
The French woman leaned against the frame of the fireplace, the soldiers stood opposite her, yet still nestling in the heat of the fire. She swung her hair back and addressed the men, "You are the men wanting to go through Renneville, yes?" McIntyre straightened himself and replied, "Yes, we are. It is of the utmost importance that you get us there" The woman tutted and looked to the fire, "There is no point going now," she stirred the fire with a metal rod and continued, "their snipers are still in position, if you go now, you will be dead before you reach the church."
Williams butted in front before McIntyre could respond, "Church? What's there?" The woman looked up at Williams, "The remainder of your comrades are in hiding there. If you do not liberate them soon, they will surely be killed by the Germans." McIntyre slammed his fist against the wall of the shack in rage. The entire building quivered in fright of the force of McIntyre's blow. He spoke without raising his head, not wanting to dignify anyone with a full conversation, "How many are left?" The woman adjusted her jacket, "At most I would say ten, they were surprised at the German's ferocity." McIntyre turned his back to the wall and slid down it in exhaustion and despair.
Johnson and Miller kept by the fire, they were already bitterly cold, they might as well make the most of what they had. Donahue was slumped against the window, staring out into the night; the stars dwindled, sparkled, and then slowly meandered their way across the sky, as if they had all the time in the world. He breathed deep and looked back into the room where five people beckoned to the fire to keep them warm through the night. That was when he saw something in the corner of the room, almost completely submerged in shadow. Propped up against a wall of the cabin was a German sniper rifle, in perfect working order. He made his way over to the still mysterious woman. "Excuse me," he enquired, she turned in response, "Are you any good with that sniper rifle?" she stared back at her instrument, then to Donahue, "As a matter of fact, I am a highly trained marksman with German rifles. Why do you ask?" A wry, yet pleasantly small smile skipped onto Donahue's face. He had a plan.
He walked over to McIntyre, who was kneeling by the fire. "Sir," McIntyre still looked at the fire, his face graven and sad. "Sir," repeated Donahue, this time McIntyre turned his head ever so slightly to Donahue, "Sir, I have a plan to make the route into Renneville easier" McIntyre pricked up his ears to the sound of this. "Well sir," continued Donahue, "Turns out, the lass is a sniper. We could sneak into Renneville in about an hour and clear it of enemy sniper activity. We'd need someone to cover our back obviously, but just one man. Then in the morning, we can safely get to the lads inside the church. What do you say sarge?" McIntyre stood up and looked Donahue in the eyes, "If you can get her to go with you, then by all means." Donahue smiled again, then told the woman of his plan.
Soon enough, fatigue had gotten to the men and they were sound asleep. Save for Williams. He was still awake, eyes slightly bloodshot, as was his arm. The wind had died down and he was sat outside. It was too dark to really make out where the trees turned to the sky, it just seemed like totalitarian twilight. Every now and then, he would look to his arm, not seeing the true grim gore that it was due to the darkness that had enveloped him. Steps behind him began to dawn on him and he aimed his sidearm to it. The woman held up her hands in defence, "What are you doing?" she asked, "put that thing down!" he holstered his sidearm and looked to his shoes. "Sorry," he apologised, "can't be too careful these days you know" The woman sat down beside him and joined him in staring into the inky black of their surroundings. She hated the awkward silence and lit a conversation, "You cannot sleep?" Williams looked at her; she was lost in the deep infinity of the sky, he continued her conversation anyway, "Not really no, not since we dropped into Normandy. Haven't slept at all these past few days, I know I really should, but its like partial insomnia. My body wont let me sleep." Surprisingly she took note of his situation and felt sorry for him. Williams posed the question to her, "I'm getting ready to leave in an hour," she replied, "the sniper and I are going into Renneville to clear it of German marksmen. If I sleep, I will not be fit enough to engage in combat." She glanced to Williams, who was still transfixed on her, "You know," she continued, "we do need someone to cover us in case the Germans come after us. Would you help?" Williams realised how long he had looked at her for, then clumsily looked away. She laughed at his antics. "Why not," Williams answered, "you need help, I'll support you. " The woman's face radiated with a beaming smile that made her entire face defy the darkness of the night. She looked at her watch, "Well, we should best get ready" she picked herself up and began to walk into the cabin, Williams hastily got up and asked, "You've never told us your name yet. What is it?" She broke a little smile and said, "Annabelle" Then both of them went into the cabin and woke Donahue. The night was young, and there was much to do.
