End of October 1941

A barely noticeable shadow slipped between the fir trees and disappeared from sight. The guard stopped, slung his rifle over his other shoulder, yawned, scratched his nose and moved on. He did not notice how the shadow of the creature hidden in the branches of the trees quickly and silently flashed very close. It was late in the evening. The sun was already creeping below the horizon, half out of sight. The guard nodded off, wishing he could finish his duty as soon as possible and go to his room. He walked on, yawning constantly and stopping to scratch his nose.

The shadow ran in the opposite direction. There was a one-story wooden building there. She stopped. There was a good 10 meters between the trees and the building. There was no one nearby, only the light was on inside. The creature darted towards the building like a bullet and pressed against the wall, disappearing into its shadow. Who it was or what it was couldn't be seen. It was only by the barely noticeable fluttering of the shadow that it became clear that someone was there, and he was moving.

The creature was surveying the area. It turned towards the forest, and two silver balls shone in the darkness. They carefully studied the trees in search of random eyes. Without noticing anyone, the creature turned around and with unprecedented dexterity silently climbed up the wall and slipped into a narrow crack under the roof.

It rolled over the wooden planks that served as the ceiling and stopped near the rotten area. It was very narrow here, about 30 centimeters high, no more. But the creature didn't feel any discomfort, as if it had done this many times. Perhaps it was. Voices were heard from below.

It skirted the rotten board and moved on, creeping silently forward. A light was shining two meters away from him. The creature crawled up to him. The gap was small, but large enough to get a good look at the table under it. The faint light coming through this crack fell on the creature, illuminating its face.

Yes, it is the face. The man squeezed his eyes shut, but after a couple of seconds he opened them again, getting used to the light. He moved a little closer. His face was clearly visible now. Her skin was as pale as porcelain. The refined features of his face betrayed a man of high birth. Large silver eyes framed by fluffy eyelashes were carefully studying the map lying on the table below. Her hair is tied up with a gray, slightly dirty handkerchief. One thin strand escaped from under the fabric and fell over his eye. She was a dark redhead. The man snorted noiselessly and tucked it back in. The conversation continued downstairs.

"Nein, nein. Alles ist falsch! (germ: No, no. It's all wrong!)"

The man froze, listening. It was a girl. She bent down, but not too low, otherwise they might notice.

"Was ist falsch? (germ: What's wrong?)"

"Diese Falle wird sogar ein Kind finden! (germ: Even a child will find this trap!)" the first voice answered.

"Machen Sie alles neu! (germ: Redo everything!)" He continued and bent over the map. The girl moved slightly to the right. One of the boards trembled slightly.

"Was war das? (germ:What was that?)" A new voice asked.

"Der Wind," the man bent over the map replied wearily, "Dieser Wind wird ihn bald ins Grab legen." Es weht, wie es weht. (germ: This wind will soon put you in the grave. That's how it blows.)

The man marked something on the map and rubbed his temples wearily. He stood up, leaning heavily on the table-the chair swayed, but resisted-and moved to the left. The girl did not see him anymore, but she knew that there was a window there. The man was right: the icy wind whistled loudly and blew through the cracks. It was cold, I wanted to shiver. But she couldn't afford it. One wrong move and she's dead. The girl has already made a mistake - she touched a creaking board, fortunately it only trembled. It was lucky that the people below wrote everything off to the wind. Indeed, it was so strong that sometimes the flimsy building staggered, threatening to fall apart.

Meanwhile, the girl was studying the map. It depicted the surrounding area: the northernmost part of the Sestroretsk Flood, the Rusty Ditch - the main line of defense of the Sestroretsk front, the city itself (only the very edge was visible on the map) and, mostly, the forest. The girl has seen this card many times in almost two months. At first it was pristine, but now it was marked with a lot of marks: black circles and arrows - the bases and directions of the Nazi offensives, mainly the Finns, the position of the Soviet Union was marked in red.

The man returned to the table and called a couple of people to him.

"Legen Sie die Fallen hier und hier auf (germ: Set traps here and here)," he pointed to the new notes. "Ist es klar? (germ: Is everything clear?)"

The two soldiers nodded. The man exhaled and plopped heavily into a chair. He was no longer young: his hair was almost completely gray, his skin was dry, sagging, and his voice was hoarse and smoky. His left arm hung like a dead weight, twitching from time to time. There's definitely something wrong with his nerve. He must have been injured in the First War. And now he's back on the front line.

The girl narrowed her eyes, trying to remember the location of the traps and mentally figure out where this place is. The first point was located near the border of the sides, about three kilometers east of the Ditch. She recognized the second one immediately-it was about where she and her brother had appeared almost two months ago.

The girl lifted the corners of her lips. It seemed like two years had passed, not two months. She quickly got used to life in the war. It was hard, but there was no choice: it was either her or her. The girl killed her "first" Nazi, or as the Fascist Soviets called them, two weeks later. It turned out to be a young guy in his 20s. Maybe he didn't want to fight. Perhaps he was forcibly sent here. You can fantasize and guess as much as you like, but the fact remained that he was a Nazi, he was the enemy.

The people below continued to discuss plans. She won't hear anything new today. The girls moved away a little, afraid to touch that ill-fated board. Now the wind had died down and there was no chance of a mistake anymore. She crawled back a little more, skirted the rotten boards. The wind picked up again. The girl smiled, rejoicing at her good fortune. But it won't last forever, there's no time to be in the clouds. She rolled back, darted into the gap, jumped soundlessly into the shadow and stopped.

The sun disappeared below the horizon, leaving behind only a thin band of sunset rays. Bad. She was delayed. Soon, in about 5 minutes, a guard will pass here. Time is short.

The girl looked around. The silver eyes were also, as they had been some time ago, carefully studying the area. And luck again: no one. The girl, who had become a lightning shadow again, darted to the trees and disappeared into the fluffy branches of the fir trees. A shadow flickered between the trees, but too quickly to notice.

The girl rounded a protruding root, jumped onto a branch and hid in the wide paws of a fir tree. A guard appeared from behind the building. The shadow jumped to a nearby tree. After a couple of moments, she slid to the ground and disappeared. The guard was waddling along and whistling to himself a melody known only to him. He, like his predecessor, did not notice the nimble shadow of the scout, which disappeared into the darkness of the approaching night.

The girl, quickly darting through the trees, finally met her partner. They were sent on a sortie together. While she was getting information, he was carefully examining the perimeter. In case she gets noticed or needs any help.

The guy made several special hand gestures, telling her the number and location of the guards. The girl nodded slightly, and they carefully walked deeper into the forest, skirting the entire guard.

It was the closest Nazi headquarters to them. This half-collapsed hut was very well guarded. But the fact that there were many guards here did not mean that they were all responsible for their task. Artemis had already recognized many people by sight in two months. She could only point out the two on duty on Fridays and Sundays who were really responsible.

"Apparently, a group of fascists has already been dispatched in the direction from which we came. They must have noticed some movement. Therefore, we will not be able to pass there," the soldier quietly reported to the girl. "In order to return unnoticed, we will have to go around from that side. So, we'll be back late enough.

"Semyon, do you think we can meet someone on the way?" Artemis asked him.

"Who knows," he grinned meaningfully, but immediately became serious under the cold gaze of his partner, "In theory, they shouldn't. If you're talking about fascists, of course."

The guy played with his eyebrows a little. The girl pretended not to notice. And she turned away and rolled her eyes.

"Lita?"

"What do you want?" The girl replied irritably.

"I've been wanting to ask you a question for a long time," Semyon began. The girl turned around, but remained silent. The guy regarded this as a permission and continued:

"Why are your eyes silver?"

Artemis stumbled over a protruding root in surprise.

"Wh-what?" The girl opened her eyes wide and stared at the soldier.

"Well, it's just interesting, but I'll understand if you're, uh, there…"

"From my grandmother, "the girl interrupted his verbal flow, "my mother said that my grandmother had such eyes. But I do not know, I have never seen her."

"And why? Do her parents not get along with her?" Semyon asked, kicking the bump.

"She died before I was born. I think it was clear," the girl replied dryly.*

Semyon tried to start a conversation several more times, but Artemis ignored all attempts.

The girl looked at the trees and the ground. Wide Christmas trees blocked the view, it was not even visible what was underfoot. I had to walk quietly, carefully pushing their paws apart. The needles pricked, dug into the palms, but left nothing behind but small white dots. But Artemis ignored them. In two months, she had become so used to the prickly needles that they seemed like something ordinary. It's like it's always been that way. It was as if they were always digging into her hands. It was as if she always went scouting and, lying on flimsy boards, eavesdropped on the enemy's plans. It's like there's always been this war.

Artemis sighed and raised her head to the sky. Everything is the same gloomy, gray and dull. There was no noise, but it was for the best: there was no need to hide from anyone. The sun was not visible. Again. In two months here, she had never seen a single ray of sunshine. The nights were not much different from the day, except that it was dark. The girl looked forward again.

They returned to the checkpoint in a more difficult way — through a ravine. Once upon a time it was a reservoir where beautiful, well-fed carp were bred. After the October Revolution, the pond was abandoned and half filled in. And now it has dried up and become a ravine, at the bottom of which a swamp has formed.

The girl bent down and looked at its bottom, covered with a thick haze. Her partner was already carefully descending, grabbing the branches of a stunted mountain ash and fresh wet grass, pulling it out in bunches. Then his figure disappeared into the fog. Then a voice was heard from there:

"Lita! Go down here at the bottom, not too deep. Just be careful - the grass is very slippery, and you can't see anything in this fog. But there are a couple of meters here. You'll come down and that's it.

"I'm able to handle it on my own. It's unnecessary to teach me," the girl quipped and began to carefully climb down.

The ravine was about fifteen meters deep, but it was quite narrow. Therefore, its bottom did not exceed two meters. Its slopes are overgrown with sedge, low trees and horsetail.

In the middle of the way, Artemis grabbed a flexible willow branch, but could not hold it and, slipping on the wet grass, rode down the slope. Landing in the swamp, the girl raised her head, wiping the dirt from her face.

"Abomination!" She muttered and, pulling the handkerchief off her head, wiped her face. And then she added indignantly, "What are you laughing at?"

"It seemed to you," the guy became serious, holding out his hand to her. Leaning on her, the girl got up, wiping herself completely with a ruined handkerchief. Artemis indignantly threw him to the ground and drowned him in the viscous mud. So that they don't accidentally find it.

Suddenly, crows croaked from the left - the birds were dividing the prey. Artemis froze, peering into the impenetrable evening haze. Her companion also tensed up.

"We need to get to the other side," he informed her, shielding her from the sound source with his hand.

"Wait a minute... "

A scout was missing from their squad. He left and didn't come back. Five days ago.

The girl hesitantly walked towards the crows. The birds, noticing the approach of a man, flew away, cawing indignantly. Artemis felt the sickening smell of blood and burnt flesh, as if someone had fried a chicken, a few meters away. A dark crown, torn like claws, a green camouflage army uniform, black boots trimmed with metal. It was him. Ilya Yuldashev.

There were knife marks on the left, under the ribs. There were burns all over his face and body-there was no normal skin anywhere to be seen. Because of the open fractures of all limbs and protruding bones with torn muscles, I began to feel sick. If only it could be compared with something, only with minced meat. Minced meat from muscles, intestines, bones and blood.

There were no whole bones left anywhere, not a single intact part of the body, not a single whole nail. He was dumped here recently — the crows had not yet had time to gnaw the remains of meat from the broken bones.

"He died a few hours ago..." the girl whispered, almost choking. "He was tortured for all five days..."

Artemis had seen such mutilated bodies before. In the wars of gods and men. But looking at it neither as a goddess, a supreme being who considered most people to be dirt under their feet. But now she's here. Man, the very dirt under the feet of the gods. Now she was looking at the guy like a human being, just like this torn piece of flesh. She had never enjoyed this sight before, unlike Ares, but now it was much worse for her.

"We have to get him," the girl said, turning to her partner. "And it's okay to bury him. You can't leave him here. "

"All right," he said with difficulty, looking fearfully at the corpse.

The girl did not even think to condemn him. She herself wanted to just turn away, run away and not touch the corpse. Ignoring him, she lifted the body onto her shoulders.

"I'm already covered in mud, so I'll carry it myself. Help me climb up," Artemis asked, shifting her burden more comfortably.

"Lita..." Semyon drawled in amazement, the girl even caught a couple of notes of admiration, but remained silent.

Semyon jerked and, catching himself, held out his hand to her.

"Let's get up now," and began to carefully climb the almost steep slope.

We walked back in silence, in silence. The girl was bent over, carrying the body, and the guy was even afraid to go up to her and help her a little. It was a very disgusting view.

At last they came to the gate. Their comrades were already running towards them.

*Here Artemis is talking about her grandmother Phoebe, Leto's mother, who was Apollo's wet nurse, but as far as I could understand, she did not cross paths with Artemis herself. And according to the myths, Phoebe really had silver eyes, so Artemis is not lying.

A fascist and a Nazi are the same thing. It's just that the "fascist" has taken root in the USSR more. The Nazis are still called that in Russia. Although, in fact, fascists are followers of Hitler from Italy.

I can't say for sure, but it seems that Phoebe disappeared in Uncle Rick's universe before the twins were born. (It seemed to be mentioned in The Apollo Trials, but correct me if I'm wrong.

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