July, 1943

Sicily

Although Sicily was quite dry compared to back home in Britain, it was still greener than the monotonous tans that spread over the Sahara, rich with vegetation that was unique to the land surrounding the Mediterranean Sea. Jack Moffitt had a particular affinity for the desert, but being stuck fighting there over the last few years had given him a desire to see something a little different for a time. He wanted to return to North Africa someday, but just not now.

Moffitt and the rest of the unit known as the Rat Patrol were scouting ahead of the larger Allied forces as the Italian campaign got underway. It was agreed by their commanding officers that the small unit consisting of four men, plus one magical Egyptian cobra named Anah, would stay together. Their performance had remained excellent, and though some duties would change, as well as the terrain, their effectiveness and cohesiveness under Sam Troy's leadership was worth keeping around.

That was good, Moffitt felt. After learning about his brother's death in an air raid four months ago, he wanted something—anything—to remain the same, unchanging. He, like the others, was adaptable, or at least tried to appear so.

Anah, having been trapped in a temple in the desert for two thousand years, was taking in her new surroundings with eagerness and excitement. Few moments went by when Moffitt didn't feel her slithering around his shoulders to get a better view of everything, or saw her forked tongue flicking in and out constantly as she took in every new smell. The cobra became quite intrigued with flowers. She had never seen flowers before, and so she loved them. Moffitt had different feelings toward flowers. There were many reasons he enjoyed being in the desert, and the lack of flowers was one of them. But, Anah loved flowers so much that Moffitt had a hard time protesting her wanting to explore them whenever there was a lull in the action.

Sure, flowers were pretty, but to Moffitt, they yielded an oppressive scourge. They could dampen a good mood in an instant—literally. He disliked dogs and carbonated beverages with a passion, but those could be easily avoided. This particular nemesis couldn't be avoided.

It wasn't too long after Tully Pettigrew parked his and Moffitt's jeep alongside Mark Hitchcock's and Troy's that Moffitt began to sense the presence of this accursed foe. His head had been clear one minute, and immediately began to ache the next. He winced and squeezed his eyes shut when he felt them begin to itch and water. He felt as though someone smashed a hammer between his eyes. He knew this wasn't a cold that came on with the force of a freight train. No, it was similar, but significantly more annoying.

Troy was giving instructions, but Moffitt couldn't hear him properly, like cotton had been stuffed in his ears. His eyes and nose were unbearably itchy and watery by now, and completely ignored Troy to run back to his jeep in order to dig around his belongings for a handkerchief.

"Are you okay, dear?" Anah asked, adjusting herself after Moffitt's frantic run to the jeep.

Moffitt didn't answer as he had found the handkerchief just in time for a fit of sneezing to start. When he finally stopped sneezing, his headache had worsened, but he had the energy to blow his nose, and turned to Troy. "I'm sorry," Moffitt said, in a horribly congested voice. "Allergies. Bloody pollen. It's everywhere!" He sneezed again.

"Are you okay?" Troy asked.

"Not really," Moffitt groaned.

Troy thought for a moment. He put his hands on his hips, sighing and pacing. "We need to get our report back to Boggs by tonight. This is a really bad time." He glanced over at Moffitt when the lanky Englishman sneezed once more, then turned to Tully and Hitch. "Okay, new plan. Hitch, I want you to walk northeast out as far as the treeline across the creek here. Tully, do the same, but head northwest. Do not go past the treeline, understood?"

"Yes, Sarge," Hitch replied.

Tully's only response was a nod before taking a quick look over his Thompson submachine gun and heading where Troy told him.

Moffitt sank down to sit cross-legged on the ground. There was truly no greater enemy than pollen. Pollen gave life to the plants, but it had to come at the expense of his ability to breathe, think, focus, or do much of anything. As a child, there were several years back home in Britain when his allergies kept him home from school and various outings. This wasn't too terrible when he was younger, but when he was in his first year at Cambridge, it was much more of a problem. His relationship with his father was at its lowest point, and Nicholas kept putting pressure on him to exceed, no matter what. Allergies were no excuse.

Moffitt doubted they were an acceptable excuse here, in a warzone. He looked down at his lap when Troy walked over to him. "I'm sorry about this, Troy."

"What are you apologizing for?" Troy asked.

Moffitt bit his tongue, fighting his usual torrent of self-loathing. He felt Anah nuzzle him, and gave a sigh and a sniffle. "Nothing, I guess."

"You have allergies. It happens. It sucks. Don't worry about it."

"I'm putting the mission in jeopardy."

"No. No, no. Don't start. We'll work with what we have." Troy crouched down by Moffitt, then raised an eyebrow. "Did you know this was going to happen?"

"I wasn't sure," Moffitt mumbled. "It might have, it might not have."

"Why didn't you talk to a medical officer about getting an antihistamine or something?"

"Because they don't work. The only ones that do work make me extremely lethargic."

Troy nodded, then looked at Anah. "What about magic? Is there a potion or some doohickey we can use?"

"There is, but it functions similarly to non-magical medications," Anah said. "A potion also would not be a long-term solution, especially since we do not have a large enough cauldron. Procuring the ingredients will also be a challenge."

"There are warlocks back at camp, but they typically don't give their ingredients away for free. They bring stuff from home that can't be found here, so I get why they're not willing to give that up without something in return."

"Witch culture has historically been based around bartering and trading anyway," Anah explained. "It is rude to expect their services for nothing in return to them. That is not to say they will not offer assistance at no cost. It depends on the individual witch or warlock."

"Well, we can't poke around until we get back, unfortunately." Troy turned back to Moffitt. "Is there anything that can help even a little? Your tea?"

"Tea might help," Moffitt said.

"Stay there, then, dear." Anah climbed up into the jeep. "I will make it for you."

"Thanks." Moffitt shifted to get comfortable, only to break into another sneezing fit.

"Bless you," Troy said when Moffitt was done—or so he thought. After another three sneezes, Troy added, "Bless you again."

"Oh, don't bother," Moffitt groaned. "I'm probably going to—" He quickly brought the handkerchief to his face to sneeze again. Through his still-itchy, watery eyes, he could see Troy grinning a little before offering another "Bless you," but in Greek.

Anah had brought some of the team's cooking gear out of the jeep, and added some water into the kettle. At least here, they didn't have to worry about water the way they did in North Africa. Troy had briefly left to do a perimeter check around where the jeeps were parked, then came back once Anah had poured hot water into Moffitt's tin cup.

"Well, here's something to take your mind off your allergies," Troy said. "You think we'll run into Dietrich at all?"

"That's a good question." The tea wasn't yet ready, but Moffitt still held the cup to his face to inhale the aroma of tea, as well as the steam. Steam had always provided some comfort whenever his allergies were acting up, or if he had a bad cold.

Troy glanced around. "Prophecy aside… is it odd for me to say that I hope he's okay?"

"I don't think it's odd." Moffitt lingered over his steeping tea for a moment before turning his gray gaze on Troy. "I think he's going to be on the back of our minds until this is all over. Back in the Scots Greys, we never really had a similar relationship with any of the German commanders we went up against. Dietrich was different. I think it's safe to theorize that he doesn't want to be here anymore than we do."

Troy nodded. "I wish we could've done something. Talked to him. Something. He always looked like he had more to say."

Moffitt used a spoon to press the tea bag against the sides of his cup, getting as much out of the bag as he could. "Our only reassurance is the prophecy, but we don't know where or when that will play out."

"It is playing out right now, as we speak," Anah said.

Troy raised an eyebrow. "Huh? How? We haven't even met whoever the bear and deer are."

"No, but every action that is and is not taken shape the path to them. The same goes for the bear and the deer."

Troy sighed heavily. "I'm guessing we still can't have a hint as to what this is all supposed to mean for Dietrich?"

"Not yet, unfortunately. You will know when the time comes."

Troy gave her a look. "Is there anything we can know now about the future?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"I will be making a pot of pasta for dinner."

Troy rubbed his face. "That's… not what I was talking about, Anah."

Anah grinned. "But it is something in the future, so it counts. You all need a good filling meal after how meager your rations were in the desert." She poked Moffitt's ribs with her tail. "Especially you, dear."

Moffitt gave a sigh of his own. "It's hard to look forward to food when I can't smell much of anything."

"Unless you add a lot of spice," Troy said. He looked at Anah. "What were you planning on making with the pasta?"

"Well, I did plan on making a very garlicky alfredo sauce, heavy on the cheese, and of course, the garlic. I could make a spicy sauce instead."

"Do that—but not too spicy."

"I will make it as spicy as I want," Anah pouted.

"Anah, please don't make it too spicy," Moffitt said.

"Okay, dear."

Troy glared at Moffitt, to which Moffitt shrugged and said, "At least she listens to someone."

There were several hours until dinner regardless. Moffitt was left alone with Anah when Troy went off to assist Hitch and Tully. He put his head against the side of the jeep, finding it offered nothing in terms of comfort. Everything inside his head felt clogged and swollen. He drew up his knees and slumped down a little in another vain attempt for comfort. His thoughts were murky. The only clear thoughts were about how much he hated his allergies and how terrible they made him feel. What a sad excuse of a soldier I am. Moffitt closed his eyes, not wanting to get yanked into the black vortex of doubt, loathing, and overall misery.

He opened his eyes when he felt something climb on him, and saw Anah coiled up on his stomach, her head rested on his chest. One part of Moffitt was thinking that this was very sweet—another was worried that he was going to start sneezing at any moment and ruin it. He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard Troy, Hitch, and Tully returning from their scouting.

"Alright, let's shake it. We're heading home," Troy said. "How are you, Moffitt?"

"I would say a fraction of a fraction of improvement," Moffitt replied, standing while cradling Anah. "Still terrible."

"Okay. We'll head back to camp, and you lay down. We'll take care of reporting to Boggs."

When the Rat Patrol returned to camp, the amount of pollen in the air wasn't nearly as bad as it was on the hill overlooking the creek. Moffitt felt well enough to accompany the others to Captain Boggs's tent, though he didn't have much to say. It was greatly embarrassing when Boggs turned to him, asking what he had seen, and he had to explain why he had stayed behind.

After they gave their reports, which hadn't amounted to much apart from a few villages north with no sign of German presence, Boggs told them to return to his tent in the morning for new instructions, allowing them to retire for the night. Anah got to work preparing a meal, Tully performed maintenance on the jeeps, Troy and Hitch were playing cards, and Moffitt was lying in his cot. He felt better compared to earlier, now that he was out of the horrendous cloud of pollen, but he was dreading the coming day.

Tully peeked into the tent. "Hey, Moffitt, Anah wants you."

Moffitt sat up. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah. She just wanted you specifically."

Moffitt headed outside, where Anah was stirring a reddish-orange sauce in a pan over a fire while pasta was boiling in a small pot. The sauce had a spicy aroma, full of various herbs and seasonings. He could pick out oregano and basil among them, and, of course, garlic. "Smells good, Anah. What do you need?"

"I would like you to taste-test this, dear," Anah said.

Moffitt raised an eyebrow. "You have three other people closer to you who you could have asked."

"Well, number one, Troy eats anything and has no concept of taste, therefore his thoughts on this would not amount to much—"

"Hey!" Troy glared at Anah, who hissed at him in return.

"She's not exactly wrong, Sarge," Tully said without looking up from his and Moffitt's jeep's engine. "Spam omelet."

Hitch sighed. "It was an attempt."

"At least it didn't go to waste," Moffitt replied.

"Out of you four, you have the most sensitive stomach, so I would like you to taste the sauce and tell me if it is too spicy," Anah continued before holding up a wooden spoon.

Moffitt took the spoon and dipped it into the pan. He waited for it to cool before tasting it. Italian cooking wasn't something he was used to. It was quite hearty and full of flavor, very different to the simpler British dishes. He could tell it was a cuisine that Anah was going to enjoy working with. "Well, it tastes as good as it smells. I would tell you to use a little less garlic, but I'm not sure you'll listen."

"No," Anah said, smiling.

"I figured." Moffitt handed her the spoon back. "It's not too spicy. Carry on."

"Thank you, dear. Dinner will be ready in a moment."

The team sat close to the fire as Anah handed them each a serving of her dish. Troy had to gently remind Anah that while stuff like this was nice, they couldn't have it every single night, as they wouldn't always be in close proximity to villages with people who were able to trade. Anah announced that she was aware. Moffitt liked seeing Anah happy with her new hobbies, but there was a war that they needed to focus on. Then again, as much as he loathed his allergies, Moffitt would rather deal with them at their worst than think about the idea that he or any of his team could get injured or killed the next day.

He didn't want his allergies to be the reason anyone got hurt or killed, though. Back home, he was able to wait out his allergies and take medication for them, but out here, that wasn't an option.

In the morning, Troy received orders from Boggs to continue scouting ahead. It was supposed to be a very warm, dry day—a recipe for a pollen disaster. Moffitt didn't want to let that stop him, and tried to think of what to do. He stared up at the top of the tent, leaning back in a chair and shirtless while Anah was assisting with his shave.

"Everything alright, dear?" Anah asked. "You look deep in thought."

Moffitt waited until Anah took the razor away from his face. "Just trying to think of how I can be useful today."

Anah sighed before continuing to delicately shave Moffitt's right cheek. "You are useful, and you need to stop beating yourself up over things you cannot control—hold still. Okay, now turn your head to your left and look up. Perfect." She was quiet for a few moments as she worked, then took the razor away to rinse it. "Perhaps today will be a little better."

"I hope so."

Anah tidied up Moffitt's face before letting him sit up and inspect her work with a small mirror. "No nicks," she said.

"That's always appreciated." Moffitt let out a sigh of his own before putting a thin layer of aftershave lotion on his face. "Right. Let's go brave the storm of pollen." He wiped his hands before putting a shirt on and tying his blue scarf around his neck. He held out his arm for Anah to climb up, then left the tent to find Troy.

Troy was proving difficult to find, which was unusual. Moffitt searched the camp until finding Troy in an unlikely place—behind the mess tent, holding a letter and an open envelope. It was clear Troy hadn't noticed him and Anah yet, as the older sergeant looked… sad. A rare show of emotion for him. Moffitt glanced at Anah, switching to telepathy. "Can you tell what's made him upset?"

"I think that is a little invasive," Anah replied.

Moffitt bit his lip while thinking, then said, "Troy? Are we ready to head out?"

"Yeah. Just a minute," Troy muttered.

That wasn't like Troy at all. Moffitt hesitated, but asked, "Are you… alright?"

"Fine. Yeah."

Moffitt raised an eyebrow. "You don't look—"

"I said, 'fine.'" Troy's voice dropped to a growl. "Go find Hitch and Tully, and go wait by the jeeps."

Something deep inside was telling Moffitt not to press Troy any further, so he nodded and turned to go back to where the jeeps were parked. Tully was making sure everything on the Browning M2HBs was in working order, with a matchstick hanging from his mouth. Hitch had just finished topping off their fuel.

"Troy said he'll be with us," Moffitt said. "Any idea what has him so upset?"

Tully glanced at him. "He got mail while you were getting a shave. I never seen Sarge get mail before. He opened that envelope and his face looked like someone came up and sucker-punched him in the gut."

"'Dear John' letter?" Hitch asked.

Tully shook his head. "No. I couldn't read it, but there was something about his face and the look in his eyes that told me it was something else. Best not to say anything."

Moffitt climbed into his and Tully's jeep, and turned when he spotted Troy storming over to them. Troy's only words were telling them to head to their map coordinates, then got in his jeep alongside Hitch. Moffitt, Tully, and Anah exchanged a look before they followed. As they neared the creek from the previous day, Moffitt winced as the familiar swelling sensation began and his eyes began to itch and water. "Oh, bloody hell."

They stopped at the hill overlooking the creek. Troy got out of his jeep with a map. He seemed almost completely different to when they had left, back to being in charge. There was a lingering sense of stress and anger that was hard to ignore, though.

"Moffitt, Tully, you two will scout further out west. Hitch and I will go east. Moffitt, there's a bridge west of here you'll have to cross to get over the creek," Troy explained. "The village has already been checked out. No Germans, and no one working for them."

"Got it," Tully said.

"Moffitt? How are you doing?" Troy asked.

Moffitt's only response was a sneeze.

"There should be less vegetation out west. Might help."

"Thanks," Moffitt said after blowing his nose. "How are you?"

"That's not important. Get going." Troy stepped back to let Tully drive past and head through the lumpy terrain to get to the bridge.

The red tile roofs and perfectly spaced olive trees of a Sicilian village came into view several minutes later. Troy was right about the vegetation being much sparser, and while it alleviated Moffitt's allergies somewhat, he still felt the constant pounding pressure of his irritated sinuses.

He stopped thinking about the discomfort of his allergies when a strange feeling squirmed in his stomach. There were no people, no animals pulling carts. No signs of life in general.

Tully slowed the jeep as they entered the village on the main road that would take them to the bridge. "Looks like everyone packed up and left in a big hurry."

Anah raised herself to look around. "It does not look like there was a struggle." She froze. "Moffitt, duck!"

Moffitt leaned down just in time to hear the crack of a rifle. A bullet whizzed over him. He shuddered as he realized that he could have just died then and there.

Tully swerved the jeep toward an alley, blocking them from the view of the sniper. He quickly shut the vehicle off before getting out, grabbing his Thompson and assisting his lanky English sergeant. "Moffitt, you okay?"

Moffitt nodded. "Anah?" he asked.

"I am alright," Anah whispered. "I will go find whoever shot at us. You two please be careful, and quiet." She slithered back out into street, sticking to dark areas and shadows.

Tully glanced at Moffitt. "Well, this is a great way to start the day," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Moffitt nodded again.

"Still wonder what the hell happened. Sarge just said this village was clear. I don't think he meant literally."

"My guess is that the Germans evacuated the civilians," Moffitt whispered. "Like Anah said, there are no signs of anyone struggling. Either they went willingly or they were threatened in the process. Now the question is 'why?'"

"I think we save the questions for after we get out of here."

"Fair enough."

Tully crept toward the entrance of the alley, his Thompson in hand. He turned to Moffitt, who was doing his best to not think about how dry he was feeling. It was as though someone had scraped around the inside of his head with sandpaper. He moved quietly while taking his canteen from the jeep, despite the sniper being unable to see them. He eagerly gulped down his water until he was satisfied. It would help his discomfort. For now.

"Moffitt," Tully whispered. "What's your plan?"

Moffitt was used to Troy being the one with all the plans. He hated being in any position of leadership, and his allergies sure weren't helping. Doing nothing wouldn't get them out of that village, though. He screwed the cap back on his canteen, then rubbed his face and eyes. He felt a need to sneeze building rapidly. Before he knew it, Tully clamped his hand over Moffitt's nose and mouth, looking nervous yet apologetic. It managed to suppress the sneeze, though it wasn't particularly comfortable for Moffitt. Tully only let go once it passed, and wiped his hand on his dusty trousers.

"Thanks," Moffitt whispered.

Tully gave him a thumbs-up, then went back to trying to check out the street. He poked the barrel of his Thompson out of the alley, then pulled it back when nothing happened. "The highest buildings here are the church and monastery," he said. "That's gotta be where the sniper's holed up."

Moffitt nodded. "The main road is a no-go. We—" He suppressed another sneeze. "We'll have to find a way around, although Anah's probably made her way there already."

A grim look crossed Tully's face. "Anah's tough, but it's not hard for someone to stomp on a snake. Even she might need help."

"We don't want that." Moffitt paled. "She would return in a new body in the temple. I doubt we'll be able to go back for her. I can't let that happen."

"So we don't let it happen." Tully glanced toward the entrance of the alley. "I don't think we should split up, not with your allergies being what they are."

"I think we should. I'll be alright. Having two targets moving separately will make things more difficult for the sniper," Moffitt said.

"There might be more than one."

"True. Do we have a map of the village?"

Tully nodded, then went over to the jeep to grab it. He unrolled the map on the cobblestone pavement in front of Moffitt, who got down on his knees and took out a pencil. "So, we have the main road, the bridge is over on the northwest side. The church has a good view of this road, so the sniper can cover it with little issue. The east side of the village is a bit more cramped. The sniper can't see us unless we were on the roofs or able to be spotted in windows."

"That side might be packed with Germans, though."

"I would think they'd be on top of us by now if that were true."

"Maybe." Tully looked toward the back of the alley. "Unless we're dealing with Dietrich. This is the kind of thing he'd do."

Moffitt shook his head. "Unless he had orders or he came across the village like this, I don't think he would rip all these people from their homes just to trap us. Regardless of who we're dealing with…" Moffitt stared at the map for a moment. His thoughts came to a crashing halt when an overwhelming sense of doubt reared up in his mind. He sighed, muttering, "I can't do this."

"No. Moffitt, we had something going. We can put this together. Come on." Tully squeezed his shoulder. "We have nothing else. You're the sarge now. There're going to be risks with whatever plan we go with."

"Right." Moffitt swallowed. "Right. Okay. We… let's go with what we know about the situation. We know there is at least one person shooting at us. We're assuming they're German. Anah has already gone out in search of him." He looked back down at the map. "I am suggesting we split up and go around until we reach the church and the monastery."

"Sounds like the best we can do," Tully said. "I'll cross the road and head south, then west, come up north on this street where the florist's and bakery are. Hopefully I can cross back over and meet you at the monastery garden."

"Why are you crossing the road? I should—"

"I can keep the sniper busy and off of you. If you weren't putting up with your allergies, I'd make it a coin toss who goes, but it'll buy you a chance to go completely unnoticed."

"You're right." Moffitt drew in a breath. "Ready?"

"Just say the word, Sarge—Moffitt. Sorry."

Moffitt offered a weak smile. He and Tully gathered up ammunition for their Thompsons and prepared to move. Tully positioned himself to vault over the hood of the jeep and dash across the road into the next alley. Moffitt lay flat on his stomach and prepared to crawl under the jeep to run to the alley behind them, which opened up to the maze of the east part of the village.

Tully baited the sniper by tossing a rock underhanded out into the middle of the road. The crack of the sniper's rifle broke the silence and echoed through the empty village. Tully vaulted over the jeep's hood and successfully made it across the road, while Moffitt slithered under the jeep and scrambled to his feet to run into the next alley. Behind the safety of the old stone wall, Moffitt took a moment to breathe. The dizziness from his clogged head partly faded. He looked across the road, unable to see Tully. I'm on my own now.

Moffitt had told Tully to take the map, choosing to rely on his ability to sense snakes in order to guide him to Anah. There were quite a few snakes in the village. Rat snakes, grass snakes, and a couple of asps. They helped paint a rough picture in his brain of the route he needed to take—and confirmed that the eastern side of the village was devoid of people, as brief communication with one of the asps revealed.

"What happened here?" Moffitt asked the asp.

"I arrived here just after the sun rose," the asp replied. "The village was already empty."

Moffitt cursed to himself. He thanked the asp before continuing on his way. It was tempting to stop and ask every snake if they knew what had happened, but Moffitt knew it was best to just keep going, and ask questions later. He hadn't heard any gunshots so far, and hoped that meant Tully was alright. He hadn't felt the need to sneeze in a little while, and wasn't sure if that was due to stress and adrenaline, or the pollen not being nearly as bad.

He was surprised when he reached the gates of the churchyard first, and equally surprised to see that no one was around. He looked up at the church's belltower, not seeing anyone. He poked his head out from behind the wall of the bookshop, then held out his Thompson as bait. When nothing happened, Moffitt left the street, running across the road and into the churchyard. The nearest snake presence was Anah, up in the tower.

Moffitt noticed the ancient wooden doors leading into the church were unlocked. He slowly pushed one open, and stepped inside. Sunlight was pouring in through the old windows. Dust swirled and danced in the air. Moffitt felt compelled to sling his submachine gun over his shoulder. He went through a short hallway before coming to the center of the church, finding the space to be empty apart from the rows of pews and the altar. Behind the altar was a room with a narrow, winding staircase leading up into the belltower.

Moffitt was light, but not light enough for the ancient wooden stairs to avoid creaking when he stepped on them. He went slow, praying the abundant dust wouldn't make him sneeze, but paused just below the exit of the stairwell when he heard voices.

"… If it helps, we have not seen anything," Anah was saying. "You have the right idea, for multiple reasons."

"What do you know about catching necromancers, Anah?" a familiar German baritone asked.

"Not much, unfortunately," Anah replied. "It is entirely possible that this one fled after the village was evacuated."

"Well, we know it is not among the civilians. We checked before bringing them to my camp. There are not many places for a necromancer to go. This would become a problem for both sides, you understand that."

"Of course, Captain." Anah was quiet for a moment. "I must get back to Moffitt and explain all this."

"You do that."

"Explain what?" Moffitt called.

"Speaking of which… Come on up, dear!" Anah said. "It is alright!"

Moffitt stepped into the belltower with his hands visible. Anah was perched on a railing, facing Captain Hans Dietrich and a young German corporal wielding a scoped K98k. "What's going on here?"

"You seem to be picking up Sergeant Troy's poor manners," Dietrich said.

"Given that your man shot at us, pleasantries weren't the first thing on my mind," Moffitt replied. "My apologies."

"No, I should be apologizing to you, as you and Private Pettigrew were not my intended targets."

"Then… who is your intended target? Our intelligence said this village was inhabited and uncontrolled by the Germans."

"Your intelligence became outdated as of late last night, Sergeant. The village leaders came to me personally for help after a necromancer was encountered, simply because my unit was closer."

"Why couldn't they handle this on their own?"

"They tried. They have no silver bullets. We do." Dietrich stepped over to his corporal. "We evacuated the village last night. Temporary occupation. In return, my medics are treating the sick. I intend on keeping my end of the bargain and leaving as soon as the necromancer is found and destroyed. If it is not found by tomorrow night, we will leave. That is final. Do you intend on causing trouble, Sergeant?"

Moffitt looked at Anah. "Did you promise him anything?"

"I said we will leave him be," Anah replied.

"We could… offer assistance. After all, no one has to know about this back at camp."

Anah gave Moffitt a nervous look. "I… n-no. No, no. I-I have not encountered a necromancer s-since shortly before I was sealed away. I don't want…" She shook her head and began trembling. "No, please!"

"Okay, okay." Moffitt glanced at Dietrich before gently taking Anah off the railing. "It's okay. You're not going back there."

"Sergeant," Dietrich's tone was sympathetic. "We can handle this. All I ask is that you contact Sergeant Troy and inform him not to come barging through like a bull in a china shop."

Moffitt had no way of knowing if Dietrich was telling the truth, but, he reminded himself, Dietrich had saved their lives before countless times. Dietrich had saved Moffitt's life several times as well. There was also the prophecy to think about. Past experience says to believe him. Moffitt adjusted Anah, letting her climb up his shoulders. "Very well. I will radio Troy and let him know."

"Thank you." Dietrich glanced at the floor, then back at Moffitt. Like every encounter before, it felt as though there was so much more to say. So much that Dietrich probably couldn't say in the presence of his own soldiers.

Moffitt could feel the skinny German captain's gaze on his back as he headed back down the winding staircase. He looked at Anah. "So, is that what you were doing the whole time?"

"No. I will explain when we are elsewhere," Anah said.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. Where is Tully?"

That question was answered when the two left the churchyard and found Tully waiting for them. Tully looked relieved. "Good to see you two okay."

"Yes. We need to radio Troy," Moffitt said.

"How do we—"

"We have safe passage through here as long as we don't try anything. We can take the main road back to the jeep."

After telling Troy what had happened in the village, Moffitt, Tully, and Anah met up with him and Hitch back near the creek. Dingy gray clouds were beginning to roll in, with the occasional sprinkle of rain. Moffitt was grateful for the rain, as it meant pollen wouldn't be floating around so easily anymore for a time. He listened as Anah explained that she had made her way through the village and climbed up to the belltower to confront the sniper. She had been surprised by Dietrich, but the situation quickly calmed down when Dietrich explained the situation with the necromancer.

Troy was quiet as he thought. He still seemed distracted, likely about whatever his letter had said that morning. He then released his breath. "Well, if this was anyone else, I'd say we go back and hang around just to make sure, but Dietrich's no liar and when he says he'll keep his end of the bargain, he does."

"Should we go back to make sure that he and his sniper are alright?" Moffitt asked. "I didn't see anyone else with them."

"The village was clear when I went through," Tully said. "I don't think that necromancer's there anymore."

Moffitt shook his head. "I didn't see anything, and neither did any of the snakes I found."

"Dietrich said, what, if they didn't find anything by tomorrow night that he'd leave?" Troy said. "We'll swing by the following morning. Just to check."

Moffitt was deep in thought as the team returned to camp. He said nothing until they were getting out of their jeeps, then stopped Troy. "Did you and Hitch find anything?"

"No," Troy said. "Dietrich's unit must be the only one around if the village leaders went to him. They're damn lucky it was him. I just hope this doesn't make things complicated between the civilians and us."

Moffitt nodded. "As long as we give them the same respect that Dietrich shows them. At the same time, we have to be careful who we talk to and about what."

"You did good, by the way," Troy said.

"What do you mean?"

"You took charge in my absence. I know you don't like being in charge, but you handled it well, in spite of how much you doubt yourself. And your allergies." Troy grinned, but his grin quickly faded. "Not sure anyone else would've been as willing to listen to Dietrich."

"There's you."

"Yeah, but I was seriously thinking about having someone take your place so you didn't have to go out with your allergies." Troy's gaze became distant. "I wasn't in a good mood this morning, so I completely forgot to say something to Boggs. I guess… it's a good thing that happened."

Moffitt pursed his lips as he thought. "I think I know the answer, but are you willing to talk about what's going on?"

Apart from when they had captured the notoriously cruel Colonel Beckmann, Moffitt had never seen Troy look so uncomfortable before. Troy looked at the ground, his composure seeming to be held together by a single thread. "It's… something going on at home." Troy swallowed when his voice wavered.

"I'm sorry. Is everything alright? Is someone sick?"

Troy shook his head. "I, um… I gotta send something to David, after we report to Boggs."

Like before, Moffitt decided not to push, but he did sigh when Troy walked away, and hoped he would figure out what was going on sooner or later. He looked at Anah. "Well, this was certainly an adventure."

"Indeed," Anah replied. "I doubt we have anything to worry about with Dietrich."

Moffitt nodded in agreement. "Can we say the same for Troy?"

"I wish I had answers for that. I think in time, he will open up about his past and his troubles. For now, we must be patient." Anah nuzzled Moffitt's chin. "And how are you feeling, dear? You look better compared to this morning."

"I think the rain has given me a reprieve from my blasted allergies." Moffitt sniffed the air. "I do love the smell of a good rain anyway. Reminds me of home. Every spring and autumn, the streets of Cambridge are wet with rain, and you can see reflections in the puddles lining the streets. There's the smell of coffee and tea brewing, freshly baked bread, oh, it's wonderful." He gave a sigh of longing. "I miss it."

"I look forward to seeing and experiencing all of that."

Moffitt gave the cobra a gentle scratch under her chin before joining the rest of his team. They would indeed find out in the next few days that Dietrich had kept his word about leaving the village once the threat of the necromancer had been dealt with. The gradual lessening of the pollen in the air as time went on left Moffitt's head clearer, both for hopes and daydreams about returning home when the war was over, and for musings about what the future held for them.