Hammelburg, Germany

Moffitt had to stay in the tunnels the next morning until someone gave him permission to come upstairs, as no one could anticipate whether or not Colonel Klink was going to inspect the barracks during roll call. He was alright with that, as he was still contemplating his dream and conversation with Carter from the previous night. He was glad Carter had come to interrupt his thoughts about his dream, as it didn't make a lot of sense and was incredibly disturbing. He saw himself entering a hospital room, with Anah around his shoulders, and stood next to a deer and a bear around a bed covered with blood. A few moments later, Troy entered the room, accompanied by the jackal. Troy was trying to ask what was going on, but somehow, Moffitt couldn't answer, even though he desperately wanted to.

The next thing he noticed was a cap on the bedside table. Dietrich's cap. Moffitt heard Troy asking if the blood on the bed was Dietrich's, and he began hoping it wasn't as he felt Troy's frustration spiral out of control.

Moffitt sighed and rubbed his face as he recounted the dream. Repeating his conversation with Carter was far more pleasant, although one of the last things they talked about stuck out as challenging. It really was going to be difficult telling Hogan that he could very well be the bear in the prophecy. Whether or not it would be more difficult than Troy was another matter.

It didn't take long to see that for a colonel, Hogan worked with the men under him much differently compared to Troy. Moffitt couldn't picture Troy just touching people's shoulders and having fairly long-winded conversations with them. According to Carter, Hogan tended to make his plans rather complex and absurd, the exact opposite of Troy. On one hand, it seemed like Hogan would be easier to talk to about his role in Dietrich's prophecy. On the other, he was wholly committed to his mission in the Underground. The prophecy would seem like an unnecessary detour.

The question that stuck out most to Moffitt was why Hogan and Carter had been chosen in the first place. Neither of them had even heard of Dietrich until yesterday. What made them important? Despite Anah's cryptic ways of answering questions, at least she would be able to provide clues if she were there.

It seemed strange to Moffitt that he missed her. She could be a pain at times with sarcastic remarks and occasional arrogance. At the same time, she was intelligent, wise, and had a good sense of humor. She also had a habit of curling up next to him at night simply because he was warm. Despite not needing to worry about her cold-bloodedness, she mentioned once that it was a way of "feeling the warmth of life." But it was also because the first time she did it, she got a good laugh out of Tully jumping "six feet in the air" and waking up Moffitt to tell him that there was a snake next to him. As the Rat Patrol got used to her presence, jokes like that no longer had any effect, but they were still able to use the common fear of snakes to their advantage.

Moffitt grinned a little as he thought of a mission where the Rat Patrol had to obtain and destroy documents from the office of a German colonel who was stationed in a coastal town in southern Tunisia. The building was under heavy guard, and there were a lot of civilians. Troy didn't want to risk hurting or killing them, so he suggested sending Anah in to retrieve the documents.

She managed to get in through an open window, and got into the drawer where the documents were kept. The colonel went in, opened the drawer… and let out a scream that Troy still swore to that day was probably heard across the Mediterranean. The mission turned out to be a success, and made the rest of the Rat Patrol more comfortable with Anah's presence.

Moffitt immediately retreated from the thoughts surrounding his brother's death. It was the one thing he avoided talking about when he had the chance to visit his parents shortly before the Normandy landings, but his father asked if he wanted to see Michael's gravesite. Moffitt was tempted to say no, but felt he was being a bit selfish by being preoccupied with his own guilt over killing two German soldiers in grief-fueled revenge after he received that awful letter. So, he accompanied his parents to the cemetery.

He had only seen Michael once after leaving for North Africa, and that was when Augenstein had electrocuted Moffitt and nearly killed him. He had a vision of himself standing on the bank of a river, and Michael was standing on the other side, calling for him to come over. Instead, Anah held Moffitt back, telling him that if he crossed the river, he would die in the physical world, and there would be no chance of returning.

For a brief moment while standing in the cemetery, Moffitt regretted not going to Michael. Those thoughts vanished when he felt the cobra wrapping gently around his torso, in a hug that only a snake could give. Most people would be absolutely horrified at the idea of a snake—any snake—wrapping around them. Instead of fear, there was something comforting about what Anah was doing. She was more than just a serpentine prophet.

There were times where Moffitt wondered if there was more to Anah than what she told him. Out of all the people that passed through her territory over the last two thousand years, why was he chosen? Was that just how it was meant to be? Perhaps he would learn the answer when the prophecy was fulfilled.

Corporal LeBeau came down to tell Moffitt it was safe for him to come up into the barracks, but as the two men were climbing up the ladder, they heard Kinch say, "Hold it, hold it! We got a problem!"

"What's going on?" LeBeau asked.

"There's a bear in the compound."

"Schultz?"

"No. An actual bear. Come take a look."

Being the tallest in the barracks meant Moffitt had an easy time looking over everyone's shoulders by the window. There was indeed a bear walking in front of the commandant's office, and something was telling him that it was the same bear that saved him back in the woods in Augsburg.

"Where's the colonel?" Newkirk asked.

A nervous-looking Carter went over to the group after checking Hogan's room. "He's… out cold."

"Well, wake him up, then!" Olsen said.

"No, I don't mean asleep. I mean he's unconscious."

Würzburg, Germany

Dietrich looked out the window in the morning to see that the snow had let up a little, but the sky, city, and ground were white. Digging out and thawing the vehicles would probably take all day.

He had a small breakfast before going out to help with the snow removal. It was an incredibly mind-numbing task, and he didn't like his thoughts turning to the previous night. He had locked away those memories for a reason. Now, all he could think about was whether or not this was the abyss in the prophecy.

If I figure it out now, what is the point of Moffitt and whoever the deer is? Is there something they know that I do not? Dietrich tossed away a shovelful of snow from a truck's tire. What is the point of any of this? I have been waiting almost two years and have not found any answers, other than two men from the unit that soiled my reputation are somehow connected.

There was more to it than soiling his reputation. Frankly, Dietrich didn't care about his reputation, but his performance had declined rather sharply when the Rat Patrol entered the picture. The high-ranking officers in the Afrika Korps were split on him. One half said that he wasn't fighting back hard enough against the Rat Patrol. The other said that there was nothing wrong with Dietrich; the Rat Patrol had clearly done their research and outsmarted him, so he needed to outsmart them in turn. Rommel agreed with the latter set of officers, so Dietrich was kept in his position.

He was really the only thing that stayed consistent, as his casualty numbers became ridiculously high overnight. Dietrich knew that even Rommel wouldn't continue to send him more men the longer this kept up.

That was when it started. Those… thoughts. They only happened once in a great while. Then they became more intrusive. He would never forget the time he pondered throwing himself in front of one of the jeeps if it would make them stop, if it would save the rest of his men. Another thought, a nastier one, also crept across his mind. They would feel guilty. Perhaps they need it. He remembered the horrible grin across his face, then his own immediate guilt. That would not exactly be honorable.

Of course, Dietrich didn't jump, but it remained on his mind. His worst dreams featured voices—oftentimes familiar voices—taunting him, telling him that he should have jumped. The world would have been better off. Or, it wouldn't even notice.

As he continued shoveling snow, he wondered who would notice now. He still had a job to do. He still had to take care of Tausemann's wife and son. And yet, I will abandon them now if the Rat Patrol came through, because I need to get out of Germany.

The rest of his men would take breaks to eat. Dietrich continued working. When he approached a snow-covered Kübelwagen, he noticed something sitting in the passenger seat. The pale reddish-brown and black fur of the jackal stood out sharply against the unblemished white of the surrounding snow. At one point, Dietrich never thought it would even be possible to be happy seeing something that remotely connected to Sergeant Troy. I would think I had completely lost my mind. If that has not already happened. Dietrich approached the jackal. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

No response. The jackal simply looked Dietrich in the eye, and sniffed his hand. It stayed put for another few minutes, then left the vehicle, vanishing into thin air. Dietrich felt disappointed. If the jackal had come to give him a message of some kind, he missed it. He returned to shoveling, and started wondering if the jackal's message was more simple than he thought. Is it trying to tell me that Troy is on his way? No, that couldn't be true. It was too hopeful.

Then again, he doubted the jackal would have come if it was playing a joke on him. Dietrich, admittedly, had grown to respect Troy despite his unrefined and extremely chaotic sense of strategy—or lack thereof. Somehow, it worked. Perhaps it was the emphasis on "simple" that was the secret to Troy's genius. It was genius by not seeming obviously genius, causing Troy's opponents to underestimate him. That was probably exactly what he wanted. His biggest flaw was his impatience, though. Dietrich was patient, and used that to his advantage. It seemed to be the perfect strategy, and yet somehow it never worked. Probably because Troy wasn't acting alone. Moffitt was far more patient and detail-oriented, and somehow able to rein Troy in whenever the American wanted to dive headfirst into something.

Dietrich never understood how two opposites could work so well together. He knew Moffitt was born and educated in Cambridge, had traveled to North Africa before the war with his father, and had a bizarre tendency to take blame when it wasn't warranted. And, of course, he had an Egyptian cobra as a companion—Dietrich didn't think it was right to call Anah a pet. On the other hand, he knew close to nothing about Troy other than how he thought on the battlefield. He knew nothing about Troy's upbringing or past. He knew Troy had a very strong sense of morals, and had played with that a few times, but beyond that, he didn't know Troy's gray areas, his personal faults. Not even what part of the United States he was from. Perhaps there was more to Troy that Moffitt knew about, and that was why they could work together.

Dietrich couldn't imagine being stuck with Troy on a daily basis, and he was sure Troy felt the same. Even though they could exist in the same vicinity without killing each other. That was dependent on the situation, but things were changing. Troy wouldn't have to treat him as someone who couldn't be trusted anymore—or he would continue to do so out of stubbornness, or spite, or an overcautious nature. Dietrich was tired of the hostility, but he doubted Troy was going to drop his guard and talk to him as an equal. Even after the war.

What made his feelings strange was that Dietrich couldn't say that he hated Troy for everything that happened in North Africa. He lost count of how many men had been killed by the Rat Patrol. They were doing what they were assigned to do, and they were good at it, whether it was with their jeeps or little pink explosives that looked more like hard soap that would smell like roses—and Dietrich was pretty sure that the Rat Patrol would attempt to kill his men with roses if that was the only thing at their disposal. As dark as that thought was, it did put a slight grin on his face.

If he was on a path to a better relationship with the people he once considered enemies, Dietrich wondered if there was ever going to be a point where they would look back and be surprised that they once tried to kill each other. It seemed morbid, and he personally hoped none of them brought it up, but it was inevitable. They would probably enjoy reminiscing more than he would, because the Rat Patrol still had each other, while Dietrich was left to carry the memories of his unit alone.

Hammelburg, Germany

Carter had been horrified to find Hogan passed out in his room, but at least he had fallen onto his bunk. Kinch gave Hogan a quick look over, and determined him not to be hurt, just unconscious and unresponsive to any outside stimuli.

"What do we do now?" Newkirk asked. "We can't take him to the infirmary with a bloody bear out there!"

Carter looked over his shoulder to see Moffitt standing in the doorway. "At least the colonel's okay," he whispered.

"I don't think they need to take him to the infirmary," Moffitt said. "Troy and I experienced strange things when we connected with our roles."

"What if this isn't it?" Carter asked. "What if it's a coincidence that there's a bear here and Hogan's actually sick?"

"Maybe, but that would be quite the coincidence, don't you think?"

Carter nodded a little. He didn't feel very relieved, though. "When will he wake up?"

"I don't know. Anah would."

Carter sensed worry in Moffitt's voice and his expression. "You want to rescue her."

"I wouldn't be able to do it alone. That's why I need to get in contact with Troy."

"It wouldn't be impossible for us to help. We've done crazier things before, and we have an inside man in Veidt."

"I doubt you've done anything as mad as break into an SS laboratory. Anah will be under heavy guard."

"Well, we did break into the Maybach One complex over in Zossen to replace someone's records so they could hide somewhere else in plain sight."

Moffitt's eyes widened. "You broke into the Wehrmacht's primary headquarters?"

"I think 'break in' is the wrong phrase. We went in disguised as Sorcery Division officers."

"Perhaps I've underestimated you, then. My apologies."

"It's okay. I know we look unassuming. That's kind of the point."

"So…" Moffitt paused, looking deep in thought. "You think your team can help rescue Anah?"

"It's not exactly impossible. Once Hogan comes around, I'm sure he can put together a great plan." Carter suddenly felt guilty. He didn't want to throw all of this on Hogan as soon as he regained consciousness. "We should be patient, though."

"Indeed." Moffitt went back over to the window. "The bear is pacing in front of this barracks."

Carter stood next to him. "Klink is probably trying to get the guards to do something about it."

"Their rifles and machine guns would be able to put it down, but this might be a magic bear. Its behavior certainly doesn't seem like that of a normal bear."

"Two of our guards actually got a bear out of a woman's china shop in Hammelburg two years ago."

"How?"

"Lured it out with food. It seemed to behave pretty oddly, too, according to what Kielholz told me."

Moffitt turned back to the window. "Is that him, then? Putting a garbage bin in a wheelbarrow."

"Yep, that would be him." Carter sighed upon seeing the young brown-haired, blue-eyed guard pushing the wheelbarrow toward the bear, with his close friend, Corporal Langenscheidt, following him.

"What brave souls they are," Moffitt said.

"Kielholz has a gift with animals. Klink may have even ordered him to do this."

"Is he magic?"

"No."

"What about his friend there?"

"Langenscheidt? No, he's not magic, either. They do just about everything together." Carter glanced up at Moffitt. "Kielholz actually fought in North Africa until he was wounded in early 1942. Maybe you saw him."

"He's Luftwaffe?"

"Yeah. Mechanic."

"If I did see him, I never got to know his name."

Carter watched Kielholz and Langenscheidt push the wheelbarrow of trash over to the bear, and his thoughts turned to the winter of 1942. He had gone with Hogan and some of the others to plant a bomb on a bridge just north of Hammelburg. The destruction of the bridge was a success, but what neither of them anticipated were a group of soldiers on leave to cross it just before it blew. Among those soldiers was Kielholz's older brother, and Carter could still remember the fear, confusion, and rage that burned in Kielholz's eyes when the news came. Thankfully, his brother was going to be alright, but Carter was left with a nagging guilt. He was afraid of telling Kielholz the truth, even when the war ended.

"Are you alright, Carter? You look a bit lost," Moffitt said.

"Just thinking." Carter looked down at the windowsill. "You know how yesterday, you mentioned that you did some 'unsophisticated things' in North Africa? I've done some unsophisticated things here. Two winters ago, I planted a bomb on a bridge that nearly killed Kielholz's brother. He's okay now, but… seeing Kielholz so upset afterward was… it didn't exactly make me feel like I was truly making a difference in the war."

"Casualties are an unpleasant reality of war. We all learn that the hard way."

"Yeah. It was thrilling whenever I'd watch something blow up, but… watching just a bridge or something like that blow up is only fun when no one else is there." Carter looked down at the floor, then back out the window. "I remember a few years ago, we were having trouble destroying a bridge. Nothing seemed to work. Then, we decided to try something a bit different; we put a bomb in the sidecar of a courier. I didn't get to see the explosion, but… we know it happened. I heard a few people say that they couldn't find any recognizable piece of this guy's body, and… all I could think of was how on Earth were they going to tell his family?"

"At least it was quick. He probably didn't feel anything."

"I guess I can take some comfort in that." Carter looked up at Moffitt again, feeling as though the Englishman was hiding something.

Finally, Moffitt let out a sigh. "You were under orders to plant those bombs. What I did that I consider 'unsophisticated' was… by my own choice." He sat at the table. "I learned that my brother had been killed in an air raid just before my unit was going to undertake a mission to break out POWs, and I let my grief rule me for a time. I let this… horrific bloodlust take over me, and I killed a German sentry."

"You just shot him in cold blood?"

"No. I put a knife in his stomach, and twisted it."

Carter couldn't believe what he was hearing, but he said nothing.

"He screamed until the light left his eyes. Troy tried talking to me later, but nothing he said got through to me. I still remember him saying, 'You hate them all, don't you?' At the time, yes. I did. With every fiber of my being. The next day, I knocked another German unconscious. Anah told me later that if he had come around, he would've had permanent brain damage. The bombing that came after was a mercy-kill."

Carter was still quiet. He sat across from Moffitt, seeing a haunted look in the British sergeant's eyes. He recognized it as the same look Veidt would have whenever he talked about the time he had been loyal to the SS. "What happened after?"

"My grief eventually relinquished its hold. I realized what I had done, and that there was no means of reversing it. I had become something that I wasn't, something that I doubted my brother would ever want to see."

"How did the rest of your team take it?"

"They couldn't blame me for how I felt, but Troy recommended that I take some time to rest. He chose not to tell anyone about what I did, and I trusted him to keep that a secret. So far, he's kept it secret."

"Sounds like a good guy."

A sad smile crossed Moffitt's face. "He is." The smile faded. "When I last saw Troy, he had been shot in the shoulder. I hope he's alright."

"I can't imagine that's been easy for you to think about."

"It hasn't, but he's pulled through tougher situations before. He's probably more worried about me at this point."

"Sounds a bit like Hogan."

"I do find it interesting that Hogan interacts so closely with you all despite his rank."

Carter shrugged. "I don't think he's ever really cared about the conventions of rank. Or regulations in general. He pulled a lot of strings just to get Kinch in his crew, and I think he was only allowed because he's a capable officer."

"That also sounds like Troy. Our commanding officers don't always approve of what he does, or how he talks, but he does his job well. Exceptionally well. He and Hogan think far outside the box in their own ways. Troy is extremely straightforward—"

"Yeah, that's the exact opposite of Hogan. I don't think we've ever done a 'straightforward' plan here."

"I reckon that would drive Troy mad."

Carter smirked a little. "It's almost driven us mad a few times."

Kinch came out of Hogan's room. "Hey, the colonel's awake."

"How is he?" Carter asked.

"He seems alright. He wants to speak to you and Moffitt alone."

Western Belgium

In his boredom, Troy spent a few days a week at the prisoner-of-war camp holding Major Tausemann, trying to get as much information as he could about Dietrich. His dreams continued to be strange, and the one that prompted his current visit was one where he, inhabiting the body of a jackal, was sitting in a snow-covered car and staring at Dietrich as he went about trying to shovel the snow burying various vehicles in a convoy.

Without Moffitt to discuss the meaning of things with, Troy felt increasingly isolated. Tully often had wise insights, but he was busy that day with finally getting a chance to see Parker, the nurse he had given one of his rings to as a promise to marry her, in several months. Hitch was a good listener, but Troy wanted to hear more than just, "I don't know what to tell you, Sarge. This stuff is all a mystery to me as well."

"This is why I can't stand dealing with magic and the supernatural," Troy said one morning to Tausemann. "No straight answers. Just more clues and hints and patience."

"I am not exactly an expert in this, but I can tell you that is something that will not change. Magic is a mental feat. Witches train their whole lives to use it. Conjurus must be isolated in order to gain control of their powers safely. Psychics must be trained from birth to avoid going mad. There is no easy path with it."

"Moffitt told me once that it's complicated to prevent it from being abused." Troy sighed. "Hasn't stopped the SS, though."

"No. They are not the only group in history that has attempted to command magic, though, and they will not be the last."

"It always ends poorly."

"It does, as does being impatient with it."

"Learned that the hard way when I found out I was the jackal."

"Dietrich is still questioning why he of all people was chosen to be the subject of this prophecy."

"I take it that was a frequent conversation between you two?"

"It was. He… does not think he is worthy of this, no matter how many times I told him that he was chosen for a reason, even if we do not know that reason."

"It's frustrating."

"For him, it is very frustrating." Tausemann looked down at the table in front of him. "I fear for him at times."

"Why?"

Tausemann fell silent.

"Why?" Troy leaned in closer. "Why do you fear for him?"

Tausemann drew in a breath. "I am sure you heard of the attempt to assassinate Hitler earlier this year?"

"Who hadn't?"

"Dietrich was afraid that the Nazis would arrest him, even though he had nothing to do with the plot. I know I mentioned to you a few days ago that the Gestapo had bugged his apartment. He was convinced that they would use this as an opportunity to finally get rid of him. I tried to talk him back into rationality, but he instead took his sidearm and put it to his head."

Troy felt a chill run down his spine as his mind turned to the dream in the hospital room.

"I managed to get him to put the gun down, but there is still a part of me that is afraid he will try again."

Troy looked at his boots. "Dietrich's been through a lot. I don't think we made it easy on him."

"There is a lot you do not know about Dietrich, and I will not tell you because I feel this would be best left up to him."

"You told me he nearly blew his brains out, though. I'd think that would be quite personal."

"I told you that because I feel you should be aware of it the next time you interact with Dietrich."

Troy's mind was overwhelmed with the image of the hospital bed soaked in blood. "That's the abyss, isn't it? That's the damn abyss. It's him. His own mind."