Odessa, Ukraine, February 4th 2023


When the world is calling you

Can you hear them screaming out your name?


Flattened against the rocks, Elsa adjusts the hood over her head once more and peers through the binoculars. The snowy white landscape grates on her eyes, but worse still is the sight of Russian troops on the other side of the river. A foggy breath escapes her lips as she watches a camouflaged Ukrainian unit lying in wait across the only bridge, waiting to blow it up. The cold wind bites into her face, but she doesn't flinch, only sweeping her gaze along the entirety of the river and searching for a safe spot to cross.

She grits her teeth and slides herself back down the embankment, dragging her rifle behind her and careful to keep a low profile until she's safe from view. The dozen or so crouching women crowd her at once, with worry and weariness written on their faces. The knot in her chest tightens as she spots the little bundles held in their bosoms, still silent, for now. Though she's certain there will be screaming and crying today.

"The bridge is out of the question, there are too many Russians on the other side," Elsa sighs, shaking her head, "our boys are planning to blow them up once they get across and…and we just can't risk it-"

A series of gasps spread amongst the women.

"There is another way, further down the river," Elsa reassures, holding out a hand to keep their silence, "a shallow series of rapids we can ford across. But it's dangerous, and we will be in the open."

A dozen pairs of eyes are glued on Elsa as they wait for her to continue

"We can only cross when they start fighting again, that will give us a chance. Please, take only what you need and leave everything behind, this will be the last crossing before we make it into Moldova-"

At once, the women make their preparations, sorting out their necessities and tying their children ever more tightly to themselves. Elsa checks the remaining ammunition left on herself. Maybe today will be a good day, maybe I won't need to use it any longer. For a moment, she allows herself to hope, and calls forth the youngest of the lot, barely a teenager. The war had been cruel to the girl, and Elsa regrets asking her for one more favour.

"Come here, Katya," Elsa urges, her breath coming in sputters, "You take the lead amongst them, I'm the only one with a rifle, I will cover behind in case they start shooting-"

Katya's eyes spell a potent mix of fear and desperation, "please, sister, I don't-"

Without warning, the ground rumbles, followed by an ear-shattering boom that knocks her to the ground. Gunfire rattles in her eardrums right as the women are still preparing to make the mad dash to safety.

"No time for arguments!" Elsa shouts, pointing at the open field, "Now! Go, go, go!"

At once, Elsa counts off Katya and twelve women leaping out into the open before she emerges into the fog of war as soldiers on the bridge battle it out. Adrenaline buzzes through her veins as she watches artillery shells explode around the men. Stumbling through the snow, she flinches as a Ukrainian tank takes a direct hit, blasting its turret into the sky and filling the air with black smoke. The scene of devastation plays out before Elsa with brutal realism, but she tears her eyes from the violence and notices the women make it to the rapids with ease. Weighed down by their loved ones and their belongings, Elsa grits her teeth as she watches them make a painfully slow journey traversing the rocks. With each passing second, the roaring river threatens to sweep away the dozen women hopping from rock to rock behind Katya's lead.

Even at this distance, she could smell the smoke and blood and hear the screams of wounded men. Emboldened by the tank's destruction, the Russian forces advance across the bridge, only to be met with an obliterating fireball consuming men, steel, and snow in its path. Elsa's eyes widen as a huge chunk of the bridge collapses, sending both flesh and concrete into the icy waters. Her thoughts flee at once to the women, still hopscotching their way across the river.

"Faster, faster!" Elsa yells, "They are coming!"

Despite her urging, the women still tread carefully on the gushing rapids.

Until the first bullets start flying in her direction.

Enraged by the death of their comrades, the destruction of the bridge, and the sudden withdrawal of Ukrainian armour, the Russian troops immediately open fire on the fleeing refugees. Elsa clasps a hand to her mouth as she watches a mother and child slip and fall into the rapids, eliciting a chorus of screaming from the others.

"Go, go!" Elsa screams, taking aim at the Russians and unloading a torrent of rifle fire. Her desperate defence does nothing but intensify the hail of bullets streaking towards her and the women, and she sucks in a gasp as one takes a hit right in the head, spraying crimson against the snowy landscape.

Heaving with despair and out of ammunition, Elsa's eyes water as she contemplates one last ditch measure. She chucks her rifle into the snow and tears off her gloves with a flourish. Making the sign of the cross, Elsa utters a prayer to the heavens, for forgiveness. She grits her teeth and clenches her fist, before relaxing -

-And blowing the lightest of breaths into the air.

The fog leaves her lips and spreads across the crisp air. At once, specks of snow form, multiplying in intensity. Sleet pours from the sky. The Russian soldiers and tanks across the bridge, earlier a menacing threat sending death towards them, now resemble nothing more than foggy silhouettes in the distance. Icy wind picks up, and before long the sight of women plodding across the river becomes a shadowy blur. Elsa's blonde braid billows in the wind as she wills more and more snow into the gale. Relieved at her latest victory at shielding the women from harm, she drops to a knee in exhaustion as the sound of gunfire dies out. Her breath catches in her lungs as she spots shadows moving towards her in the billowing snow, shouting in Russian.

"Fuck," Elsa swears under her breath, snatching her rifle and legging it away from them. Disoriented by her snowstorm, and barely able to see two feet away, she stumbles on the riverbank and slips into the rapids. Icy water blasts her with foam and spray and she falls, hands flailing in the snowy maelstrom.

"Elsa!" Katya's voice reaches her. Elsa screams for help, grabbing rocks and soil and anything she can lay her hands on, except Katya's arms. Before long, the river's mighty assault wins out, and drags Elsa under. Water rushes into Elsa's throat and threatens to overwhelm her lungs. Try as she might, she's unable to untangle herself from the Kalashnikov tied around her arm, its heavy amalgamation of steel yanking her beneath the surface every time she comes up for air. Somewhere in the hazy mess of coughing and thrashing about in the vicious currents, Elsa passes out.


They become a part of you

Every time you bleed for reaching greatness

Relentless you survive


"This one's a soldier!" a voice drifts into Elsa's ears. A frown spreads across her lips when she realises she's still alive, because there are no more soldiers in the afterlife. No wars, no fighting - only peace. This time, peace deserts her. She opens her eyes to an eerie mist which had settled over the river, and beams of light crisscrossing the darkness around her. A distant rumble makes her flinch, but she looks at the clouds and tells herself it's merely a storm coming.

Powerless to stop the throbbing in her head, Elsa spits out gravel from the shore where the river had dumped her upon. The right side of her body had gone numb, and she makes out the cold steel of that wretched rifle still tied to her shoulder. Moonlight casts an eerie shadow on the figures approaching her, but she relaxes when she hears a jumble of various languages: Polish, Romanian, and Ukrainian.

No Russian.

All at once she detects a streak of crimson lining her sleeve, and traces it to an ugly gash etched into the side of her head. Her heart sinks as a multitude of injuries from this bitter, constant conflict creep on her all at once. She runs her fingers along the wound, and resists the urge to probe further.

"She's bleeding!" the voice comes again, shrill and urgent - like the fury of the blizzard she summoned earlier. A pair of strong arms helps her up, and she manages to hobble on a leg.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Elsa snarls, before the aching in her elbow forces her to reconsider, "I think my arm is fucked-"

Wiping water from her eyes, Elsa looks at the shorter girl helping her walk. Red hair, Red cross patch on her uniform and Polish insignia on her sleeves, an immense strength in her shoulders, yet still impossibly gentle to her injured arm. She bites down on her lip as the girl turns to look at her, turquoise eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

"You must be freezing cold, it's a miracle you aren't dead yet," she says, in stilted Ukrainian.

The girl leads her to the back of a truck, illuminated by vehicle headlights. Elsa catches a glimpse of the girl's velcro name tag on her Red Cross uniform: Anastasia Kowalczyk, and swallows the lump forming in her throat.

"I'm…I'm not bothered by the cold," Elsa replies, coughing up water from her lungs, "d-did you happen to pick anyone else up? I was helping some women cross the river and one of them got swept away."

Anna points at a blanket lying over a corpse on the riverbank, while fishing around her kit for a roll of bandages.

"I couldn't save her, I tried my best, I did," Anna whispers, the softness in her voice a stark contrast to the urgency from earlier, "her child made it though - we've evacuated him to Moldova."

Elsa mouths a thank you, but at once her breath is stolen by the gentleness with which Anna bandages her head. The girl stands impossibly close to her, so close Elsa finds herself holding her breath at the touch of Anna's fingertips to her soaking wet skin. The sensation sends a ripple of warmth through Elsa's body, and for the first time in forever, she feels a shiver when the girl parts from her.

"Doesn't look too bad," Anna says, giving her wounds a once-over, "you'll be as good as new in a week."

A surgical mask conceals the rest of Anna's face, exposing only her brilliant green eyes so full of life despite the death surrounding them both. The cheeriness in Anna's voice lends a glimmer of hope to Elsa's stone cold soul, and the girl's touch is so gentle Elsa doesn't realise she's cradling her injured arm. Elsa's lips part as she contemplates asking the girl to remove her mask, just so she'd know what Anna looked like, if only to remember the face that gave her hope when all else faltered.

"Now, there's only one thing left for you to decide, though I think we'd already know the answer," Anna queried, wiping her thumb over the Ukrainian patch on Elsa's uniform, "would you like to be evacuated as well, to Moldova?"

At once, Elsa shakes her head, almost out of instinct, "I'd like to get back to the frontlines, please-"

"Is there anything else you need?" Anna asks.

"I…I need ammunition," Elsa requests, before spotting a half-eaten chocolate bar in Anna's coat pocket, "a-and some food, if you have any."

Without hesitation, Anna plucks the chocolate from her coat and hands it to Elsa.

"No, no," Elsa refuses, "I don't mean yours-"

"Plenty where that came from!" Anna's voice rings out, prying open Elsa's fingers and stuffing the bar in. Without waiting for another refusal, Anna turns away and motions for ammunition to be unloaded. Elsa stares at the crop of red hair disappearing between two trucks and looks back at the chocolate in her hands: Polish military ration, with a deep bite mark where Anna sank her teeth in. The bitter taste of the chocolate sweeps through Elsa's mouth as she takes a bite. Her hands begin to vibrate, and she catches herself waiting for the chocolate to melt in her mouth, looking if she could detect the faintest taste of Anna's lips.

"Ugh, what the fuck is wrong with me?" Elsa gasps, head in her hands.


They never lose hope when everything's cold and the fighting's near

It's deep in their bones, they'll ride into smoke when the fire is fierce


Dawn breaks by the time Elsa makes it back to her unit - a ragtag of Ukrainian soldiers from across the country consolidated into what's left of an infantry battalion. She hops off the truck, fatigue wearing heavy on her head from the all-too-short nap she took. Her shoulders immediately ache from the cumbersome rucksack of supplies and her injuries from the river, and she makes a beeline to the command post - or rather, just a ditch hastily carved into the snowy soil.

Relieved of her burden, she emerges from the trench and gasps at a familiar teenage girl, easily a head shorter than the men amongst her. Elsa stomps through the mess of snow, mud and damp leaves, and yanks her around.

"Katya!" Elsa snarls, "W-what are you doing here?"

Without a word, Katya throws herself into Elsa's arms

"I thought you drowned," Katya whispers, wiping tears from her eyes, "most of the women made it across."

"This isn't your fight," Elsa grumbles, noticing the rifle slung on Katya's shoulder, and grenades tied to her Kevlar vest, too big for a girl her size, "you should've stayed with them."

"They are safe," Katya answers, lips pursing into a straight line, "Ukraine is not. Not yet."

Artillery rumbles in the distance. A crackle of radio static bursts from Katya's radio.

"Platoon 3, Platoon 3, request reinforcement!"

The call for help evokes a flurry of activity from the men. Officers and Sergeants scrambling to assemble their men. UAV operators launch their drones to scout the area. An odd mix of civilian and military vehicles pull up around the men: SUVs, sedans, Jeeps. A bearded soldier bumps into Elsa, right as a fighter jet streaks overhead.

"Get ready!" he snarls at Elsa, before pointing at Katya, "Are you ready? Are you ready to rumble?"

Katya cocks her rifle, and grits her teeth, "Yes, yes, let's ready to rumble!"

A deafening whoosh and burst of smoke from the rocket launchers signals the attack's commencement, and the men hurl themselves into whatever vehicle they can find. Elsa and Katya follow the soldier into a tiny hatchback car and take aim through its drawn windows as it hurtles itself towards the town.

"There, there," he points at a burning town, already spewing blackened pillars of smoke into the sky. The dreadful drawl of air-raid sirens blare in the distance. Katya's sleet white face resembles the freshly fallen snow on the bombed-out highway they pass. A gasp escapes her lips as she watches a cruise missile streak towards the town, exploding against a cathedral and showering the town with debris.

"It's nothing," Elsa reassures, observing her shaking in her seat, "nothing you haven't gone through before."

The car vibrates with increasing intensity as they pass destroyed houses and flaming wrecks. The road condition steadily worsens, before they finally reach a roadblock, no more than a pair of Russian tanks with blown-up treads and burning, empty turrets.

"Out, out!" the soldier yells, vacating the car, "Almost there, we can still make it on foot."

The throbbing in Elsa's head intensifies as she steps out and is immediately met with a hail of automatic fire. A mortar whistles in the sky, before it ploughs right next to them, sending all three scampering for cover beside an empty house. The soldier watches his phone intently, as it receives live drone reconnaissance footage.

"Bastards are shooting from behind the hospital, we will go around them-"

The soldier cocks his rifle and steps out from cover, only to get nailed in the head by a bullet. Katya catches the phone from his hand as it tumbles, and screams "Slava Ukraini!" as she charges into the open, firing her rifle from the hip.

"No, no!" Elsa screams, peeking around the corner and laying down a torrent of covering fire at the hospital. In seconds, Katya's diminutive frame resembles a mouse as she sprints down the street. Gritting her teeth, Elsa recalls how hesitant the girl was just yesterday, and how the war brought out the best in people like Katya and Anna. Yet this futile war would inevitably make corpses of them all. Her hands go cold with ice, and this time, she hesitates to tear off her gloves.

"I don't want to", she grumbles to herself, realising how the war had brought out the best in everyone except her.

Eventually the pleas of "I don't want to" turn into prayers for forgiveness.

She extends a hand down the street.

The sky darkens.

Hail descends, flattening artillery and enemy infantry alike.

A hailstone as big as a melon smashes into the car she was in just a moment earlier.

"Ok, you can stop now," Elsa gasps, pulling her gloves back on. Snowfall billows from the sky, sweeping through the street and rendering the trees into grotesque, white statues devoid of life. A huge chunk of snow pummels Elsa to the ground, and she struggles to regain her footing.

"Stop!" she screams, voice inaudible in the icy wind. Staggering from the house, she tries to regain her bearings, but finds only a blanket of white in every direction. An invisible weight drags her shoulders deeper into the blanket of snow, until at last she's buried shoulder deep in sleet. In a last ditch effort before her world goes dark, Elsa sticks her hand into the sky, hoping for someone to drag her out.

But there's nothing


They're written down in eternity

But you'll never see the price it costs

The scars collected all their lives


This time, barely an hour passes before a hand clasps around Elsa's. She recognises the warm gentleness of Anna's fingers, even before her immense strength hauls Elsa out of the snow. Elsa screws her eyes shut at the wash of sunlight around her, before opening them again to a familiar pair of turquoise eyes.

"Can't stay out of trouble, can you?" Anna giggles, tidying the bandages beneath Elsa's helmet. A sheen of cold sweat coats Anna's face, and an army-issue shovel laid in the snowy crater around them both.

"Oh my god, how long were you digging me out?" Elsa asks, watching the girl keel over from the exertion, "You d-didn't have to-"

"Long enough," Anna slurs, her chest still heaving. As she stands upright in the light of day, Elsa notices that she'd taken off her mask. A spray of freckles coats Anna's reddened face, and her thin lips curl into a smile. The sight turns Elsa's stomach into knots, but her mind immediately races somewhere else.

"I need to find Katya," Elsa mutters, brushing snow off her uniform, "she took off down the street and I've no idea where she is."

Turning from Anna, Elsa recoils at the snowy white landscape extending in every direction. Hailstones as large as her fists scatter the roofs and vehicles abandoned by the street. Her lips part as she realises just how much devastation she could be capable of.

"How did you even find me in this place?" Elsa exclaims, shielding her eyes from the dazzling snow glare, "There's snow everywhere!"

"We were watching the surveillance footage," Anna answers, picking up her shovel and running ahead of Elsa, "I think I saw your friend running towards the hospital before the storm happened."

The air raid sirens have fallen silent. The wind slows, bringing with it an eerie quietness that blankets the town. Even the artillery and tanks, earlier so ferocious in their assault, are nowhere to be heard. Amidst the crunch, crunch, crunch, of their boots on icy snow - a scream punctuates the stillness.

"There she is!" Anna points down the street. Snow thins out, but hail is everywhere, on the roads and roofs and drains. In their mad run, Elsa dodges a damaged power line still sparking, severed from where her storm had uprooted a tree.

Worse still is the sight of Katya lying in the hospital ambulance bay, slumped over in a pool of blood. Three Russian soldiers lie dead around her, one with a knife buried in his neck and pants around his ankles. Katya screams in pain when Anna flips her over, the teenager's face betraying utter, excruciating agony. Elsa slides over to her side, cradling the girl's sheet white shaking face.

"Multiple gunshot wounds," Anna mutters, voice as calm as the stillness around them. She swivels around to unhitch her medical pack and turns back with a gasp at Katya's body going motionless. The girl's lifeless eyes stare into the distance, hands still clasped around Elsa's.

Anna slumps backwards in defeat. Without another word, Elsa looks into Anna's eyes, haunted by the sight of a dead fourteen-year old in front of them. In the back of her mind, Elsa ponders the dead mother on the riverbank, Katya, and the countless other lives Anna couldn't save - and she imagines the unbearable weight on her shoulders. Perhaps it's Elsa's presence, but for the first time, Anna chokes back a sob, and looks away.

"Does she have a family? Do you know?" Anna stammers, unwilling to show the tears in her eyes.

"Her father died fighting in Kharkiv, mother died in Mariupol, brother and sister died crossing the Dnipro-" Elsa's voice trailed away into the breeze, blue eyes a hollow shell, as lifeless as Katya's.

This war will make corpses of us all. The lucky die first while the rest of us live on.

The pair sit next to Katya's dead body in silence, with a thousand unspoken words between them. The rest of Anna's unit eventually clear a path through the snow and reach the hospital, hauling away dead bodies and whatever leftover equipment and weapons they can salvage. Without a word, Elsa helps Anna to her feet and they saunter into the shot-up hospital cafeteria. There's broken glass and overturned furniture everywhere, but Anna manages to siphon lukewarm coffee from the vending machine. Elsa dumps her rifle on the table and sits next to Anna, staring at their boots like they are children in detention.

Elsa shuts her eyes and tries to will away the memory of Katya's dead face, but like everything else she's tried during this conflict, fails. She opens her eyes again to the sight of Anna offering her coffee, and takes the styrofoam cup from her, fingertips grazing against hers. The act of kindness reminds Elsa of the hard lump in her pocket, and she returns the half-eaten bar of chocolate. The girl's face glows with delight, she breaks half of it and stuffs her mouth, leaving the rest in the space between them.

"You remembered," Anna chirps.

A string of words form on the tip of Elsa's tongue. She contemplates holding them in, but these are trying times, and she doesn't know how long it'd be before she'd end up like Katya.

"How could I forget someone like you?" Elsa says, looking away, and then straight at Anna. Life returns to her green eyes, and the girl sniggers.

"I'm nothing," Anna scoffs, "I'm just here to help. Like you."

"You're a good nurse," Elsa whispers, "your arms - all strength and warmth and gentleness wrapped into one-"

"You're good too," Anna retorts, "the way you held her hands in her final moments. I saw it in her eyes. She passed in peace, and it was because of you."

A noticeable tremble passes through Elsa's hands as she feels the shadow of Katya's death grip squeezing back at her. She shuts her eyes and tries to focus on something, anything other than that ghastly feeling. Her mind switches to the gnawing hunger in her stomach. She reaches for the chocolate, right at the same time Anna does. Their hands connect.

Neither pulls away.

"Your hands," Anna whispers, turning Elsa's palm upwards, "Do they hurt? Do you feel anything?"

"What-"

Anna pauses, enjoying the way she's touching someone who isn't dead or dying for once, "When you call upon the winter-"

Elsa's heart contracts to the size of a pea at being discovered. She contemplates asking Anna how she knew, but instead opts to allow the girl's touch to linger on her fingertips.

"No. And I never want to do that ever again," Elsa answers, "the last two times I nearly got myself killed."

"Did you know how to do this? Before the war?"

Elsa blinks once at the words "Before the war", before the phrase carves a deep wound into her chest. It's only been a year, but the very thought of a time before all this sends a quiver into her lips. Rife with emotion, Elsa leaps to her feet, ruffling a hand through her hair.

"D-do you know what I was doing before the war?" Elsa seethes, clenching and unclenching her fists and fighting off that ache spreading through her chest.

Anna purses her lips, and waits for her to continue

"I was supposed to be in the fucking Olympics!" Elsa snarls, her voice rising with intensity, "And then COVID happened, and then the war, and….and-"

"Were you an ice-skater?" Anna asks.

"Skiing!" Elsa exclaims, voice echoing around the empty cafeteria. A tear descends from her cheek, freezing over and hitting the floor with an audible clack. The sound fills her with shame, and Elsa cups her mouth, embarrassed at weeping in front of Anna.

"Oh my god, Elsa," Anna whispers, pulling Elsa into her arms, "you don't have to feel this way-"

Without another word, Elsa sobs into Anna's shoulders, shedding the multitude of tears she'd held back for the past year.

"I've never met anyone as strong as you are," Anna continues, soothing the shaking figure in her arms, "and I've met quite a few-"

Elsa's sobbing subsides. She looks deep into Anna's eyes, as reddened as her's.

"What brought you to Ukraine?" Elsa asks, tucking Anna's fringe behind her ears, "Were you a nurse in Poland?"

Anna looks at the Polish flag on her sleeve, and the Polish name on her uniform. She frowns once, before forcing a smile at Elsa.

"I was-" Anna ponders for a second, before her radio cuts her off.

"Anastasia! Wherever you are, we're moving out-"

She bites down on her lip, pondering about Elsa's past, and her own past, and how they found each other in this maelstrom of violence. Lost in her thoughts, she flinches when another paramedic bangs on the window behind her, motioning for her to hurry up.

"We're heading north," Anna says, waving him off, "you can rejoin your unit at the next crossing-"


When everything's lost, they pick up their hearts and avenge defeat

Before it all starts, they suffer through harm just to touch a dream


A bump in the road rouses Elsa from her nap as she resumes watching out the back of a truck. Confronted by miles of wheatfields in every direction, she leans back against crates of medical supplies Anna's team had salvaged from the hospital. Elsa's radio crackles amidst the truck's rumbling.

"You doing alright back there?" Anna's voice cuts in.

"Yes, yes, just trying to stay awake," Elsa replies.

"Stay frosty, you're the only one here with a gun," Anna sniggers back.

The endless Ukrainian countryside fluttering past Elsa's eyes is suddenly punctuated by a burning church, still spewing flames from its open roof. Elsa makes the sign of the cross, before uttering a prayer for the diocese. The convoy of medical trucks barely makes it a mile from the ruins before shuddering to a halt. Elsa's hair stands on end as she hears a child crying. Leaping from the truck, she's immediately met by a grandmother and child, with blackened faces and burnt limbs. Anna is already on her knees, bandaging the child's bleeding leg.

"Bless you, daughter, may the Lord have mercy on your soul," the woman cries out, planting a kiss on Anna's head, "we assumed the Lord would protect us in the sanctuary but alas, that hope is lost-"

Elsa's hair stands on end. She scans the horizon, peeking at the treeline with binoculars. Seeing nothing, she drops to a knee and switches her headset to the surveillance frequency.

"Overwatch-"

The operator responds before Elsa continues, "Roger, I see you, up the road from the burning church."

"Any contacts?"

"Negative, the smoke is disrupting visibility."

Elsa shields her eyes from the sun's glare as she spots the drone flying overhead, merely a grey speck amidst an endless tent of blue. Her heart begins to pound, she flattens herself against the ground and scans the treeline again. Anna notices her apprehension and calls out to her.

"Elsa!" Anna yells, still tending to the woman's burns, "Is everything alright?"

Elsa's instinct kicks in. She signals frantically for Anna to crouch lower, only for the girl to misinterpret her hand sign and stand upright.

"No-" Elsa screeches, right before the static in her earpiece cuts in.

"Shit, Elsa, contact left! Left!"

Blackened humvees appear on the treeline.

Bullets pepper the asphalt around them.

Anna drags both grandmother and child behind the truck.

"Eat shit," Elsa seethes, unloading a torrent of rifle fire at the humvees. The assault only serves to dislodge them from their hiding place as they advance across the wheatfield.

"Take them out! Take them out!" Elsa screeches into the radio.

A shrieking sound echoes through the sky as hellfire missiles slam into the wheat, blasting the humvees into smouldering craters. Unsatisfied, she unloads another spurt of fire at the debris, before whirling around to check on Anna.

The sight strikes her dead in the chest.

Grandmother and child on the ground with their throats slit, blood pooling around the tyres. The other aid workers shot to pieces, corpses strewn in their seats.

Anna struggles in the grasp of a hulking soldier, Wagner skull patch on his black uniform. The girl lets out a feral scream, locking eyes with Elsa one last time before she's tossed like a sack of potatoes in his humvee's boot. At once, Elsa pulls the trigger at him, only for her rifle to cough up two bullets, before clicking empty. The shots strike him in the kevlar, merely stumbling him into the driver's seat before he takes off.

Tears spring from Elsa's eyes when she hears Anna's muffled kicking and screaming as the humvee screeches away from her through the smoke.

"Keep an eye on them!" Elsa screams at the operator.

At once, Elsa rips off her gloves, and flings them at the fleeing vehicle. She summons a malevolent frost into her hands, before realising she'd kill Anna in an instant.

Her lips quiver.

Tears freeze over.

"You're fucking useless, aren't you?" Elsa mutters to herself.


Bitter cold bites into Elsa's cheek as she revs the throttle on her motorbike. She leaps over a dirt mound and streaks through acres of shadowy woodlands, barely illuminated by the full moon. Her blonde braid billows in the frosty wind, and she grits her teeth at the crackle in her earpiece.

"Wagner camp is a hundred metres ahead. No movement. Good luck."

Unaccustomed to riding a motorbike off-road in the darkness, and maddened by the desperation of rescuing Anna, Elsa mistimes another jump downslope and crashes the bike into a fallen tree. She snatches her rifle and leaps from the wreck, opting to sprint through the forest clearing. A cluster of log cabins swim into view with blackened humvees parked outside, all spray painted with the Wagner Skull Crest. She makes it barely ten metres from the camp before a sudden wash of searing bright lights blinds her. Stopped dead in her tracks, Elsa shields her eyes from the spotlights shining on her.

Loudspeakers blare a warning message at an ear-splitting volume, "Halt, intruder! Halt, intruder!"

Her eyes adjust to the light, and at once she spots a few dozen shadowy men taking aim at her from the camp. Clenching her rifle, she cocks it, ignorant of the fact that she'd get shredded in an instant if she opened fire.

In the distance, an owl hoots its ominous call. Elsa takes a step forward, before the loudspeakers blare again, "Put down your rifle!"

Scowling with defiance, Elsa fires into the air, sending crows fluttering, before screaming, "Let Anna go!" at her shadowy enemy.

Silence answers her. Enraged, Elsa takes aim at a random figure in the distance, before a shrill cry echoes in the night.

"Stop!"

Gasping at the sound of Anna's voice, Elsa watches with her mouth ajar as the girl emerges with her hands aloft. She dashes towards her, rifle dangling from her shoulders, and doesn't stop until Anna hurls herself into her arms.

"Oh my god, Anna. I thought I lost you," Elsa gasps, clutching her in the middle of the floodlights. Anna still wore her uniform, and the same hope of life blazed within her eyes, but a sullen silence had befallen her.

"A-are you ok?" Elsa asks, grabbing Anna's arm, "Did they hurt you?"

A vacant look fills Anna's eyes, her lips part, as she ponders what to say, before shaking her head.

"Are they letting you go?"

"Yes," Anna whispers, voice barely audible in the space between them, "I-I didn't expect you to come after me."

"How could I not?" Elsa replies, shutting her eyes and opening them again to the faint glow of Anna's, right before her. Elsa's lips purse into a line. The breath catches in her throat, before words tumble from Elsa effortlessly.

"I love you."

Anna presses a shaking hand to Elsa's cheek, "I don't deserve you. All courage and love and selflessness in a single woman, and I'm nothing-"

"Don't say t-," Elsa seethes, grabbing Anna's hand.

"I haven't been honest with you," Anna continues, shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath, mustering the courage for what's to come. She stares into the forest over Elsa's shoulder.

"I'm not Polish," Anna says, avoiding Elsa's eyes, "I'm Russian. My real name is Anastasia Prigozhin. My father is the owner of the Wagner Mercenary Group, deeply involved in the war against your country. My convictions against this pointless conflict are at odds with his business, and for that reason I've left for Poland to work with the Red Cross. I never expected he'd try to find me, let alone kill all these people to get me. But he did."

Elsa stumbles backwards, jaw hanging open at the revelation. Anna looks down at her boots, still reddened with Katya's blood, and the grandmother's blood, and the child's blood, and the blood of the countless people she's saved and failed to save.

"I'm s-sorry I wasn't what you made me out to be," Anna whispers, pressing a palm to her forehead and fighting off the urge to cry, "I really, really liked you."

Crushed by Anna's words, Elsa drops to a knee. Snowflakes flutter from her hair, and when a tear plummets from her chin, it freezes the ground over. The mercenaries of the camp form up in a line behind Anna, their rifles slung behind them. A man amongst them steps forth, wearing a scarf, and Elsa immediately recognises him as the soldier on the highway. She grits her teeth and leaps to her feet, pointing her rifle at him.

"Wait," he says, unshouldering his rifle, and dangling it from his fist, "this is how serious I am right now."

Without another word, he drops his rifle into the mud, before removing his Kevlar and tossing it away.

"I am Oaken Pikalov, Colonel General of the Wagner Group. I work closely with Anna's father," Oaken says, keeping his hands up, "and I only want to talk-"

Elsa's finger hovers over the trigger, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your head off right now-"

He pulls down the scarf covering his face, revealing scars across his cheek.

"Look at my face," Oaken snarls, before pointing at the men behind him, "Look at their faces! Do you think we want this war against Ukraine? Do you think this is our war?"

Elsa snarls back, "I don't give a rat's ass-"

"Do you not think we are weary as well? While you were still a child, we were flung into Africa, to Syria, fighting someone else's war and spreading a tyrant's misery. Do you not think we want this to stop as much as you do?"

"What does this have to do with me?" Elsa complains.

Oaken steps forward with clenched fists, before Anna grabs his elbow to hold him back.

"We need you," Oaken snarls, before his voice drops to a whisper, "We are going to Moscow now! To put an end to this shit."

"Again, none of this has anything to do with me!"

Anna steps in front of Oaken, eyes betraying utter sincerity, "There's no other way to end this war but removing the ones responsible for it. They need passage to Moscow, over the rivers, hidden from the Russian drones. I've seen what you can do, you can help them."

Her words float around in the space between them, before the gravity of the entire world falls upon Elsa's shoulders. She staggers backwards at the realisation, each step spreading a luminous snowflake crystal beneath her boots. Anna catches her hands; it takes a full minute to comprehend once again, the weight of everything she's asking Elsa for, and another second for Elsa to grasp the significance of her impending decision. Ice spreads through the leaves, moonlight shimmering off its frozen surface. Oaken's eyes widen, spelling a mixture of fear and bewilderment at the sight before him, and he turns to Anna for an answer.

"Call upon the winter," Anna pleads, eyes brimming with desperation, "For Ukraine. For Russia. For Peace."

Elsa's foggy breath increases with intensity. The thought of being outright used swims around her head for a moment, along with the prospect of ending the war. All at once, memories of her past float into her consciousness: the stolen moments she'd spent as a child playing with conjured snowballs, summoning a blizzard just to cut school for a week, altering the Carpathian slopes just so she'd get an advantage over her skiing opponents. And now, she has a chance to change history. The weight of her dilemma sends her head into a spin, and she leans against Anna for support.

Specks of snow float down amongst the trees as Anna whispers into her ears.

"Do it again. For me."


Epilogue - Cortina d'Ampezzo, Italy, 18th February 2026

Streaking down the snowy slopes, Elsa looks over her shoulder at the Russian woman in hot pursuit. She edges the corner and hits a jump at an eye-watering speed, tucking her arms and legs in as she hurtles through the air. The frantic effort isn't enough, and her competitor easily catches up to her. They're neck and neck on the wire, but the finish line means something else to Elsa. Raising her poles to the cheering crowd, she skis down to the stands, searching for a red-headed woman amongst the spectators. The commentator's announcement blows past her ears-

"-nail-biting finish between Ukraine and Russia for the Women's Free Sprint Finals and we head now to the timekeeper for the official results."

Heart still pounding in her chest, Elsa spots Anna easily, waving a Ukrainian flag from her hands. She hurls her poles to the ground and reaches up to Anna, clasping her hands like the time she yanked her out of the snow.

"You did it!" Anna cheers, leaning down and kissing her tear-lined face, "This one's all yours-"

With her eyes locked on Anna's, the sudden gasp and roar of the crowd flies past Elsa's ears yet again, but the Russian skier calls out her name.

"Elsa! You got me on this one!" she yells, pointing at the scoreboard, "Two tenths of a second, that was a great run."

The joy of winning doesn't even occur to Elsa as Anna leaps from the stands into the snow and embraces them both.

Television cameras surround the trio.

Ukrainian and Russian flags drape from their shoulders.

Even the nominally neutral sports commentator can't help but chime in on the moment-

"-and a bit of a heart-warming moment here as athletes from Ukraine and Russia celebrate their medals. Countries once at war, now celebrating the peace of the Olympic games-"

This time, Elsa's tears stay warm. Even when President Zelenskyy shows up to present her medal, and the new Russian President appears to present the Russian girl her medal. The politicians make a handshake for the cameras, and the National Anthem plays. Elsa's lips quiver; she forgets the lyrics for a moment, but the crowd's unanimous singing fills it in for her.

Ukraine's freedom has not yet perished! Nor freedom, nor glory!

Upon us, fellow Ukrainians, fate shall smile once more!


A/N:

Dedicated to everyone caught in the Ukraine conflict.

May your souls find peace, in this life or the next.


A/N: Song lyrics from Legends Never Die - Against The Current (Worlds, 2017)

A/N: Story is very loosely based on the friendship between Eugene "Doc" Roe, and Renée Lemaire (Bastogne, Band of Brothers)

A/N: "Let's ready to rumble!" - Unnamed Ukrainian Soldier, Battle of Irpin, 2022