18 December, 1939 England

In the halls of Parliament men of power and authority sat, or stood, around the long table discussing events, ideas or examined the great wall-mounted map which dominated the room. At the insistence of a lone man, the only one who dared to chomp away on his trademark cigar, commenced to deliver their portions of the plan in concern to the Finland-Soviet War and the surrounding Scandinavian nations.

Many of the High Command, Ministers and Parliamentarians looked at the cigar-chomping man with shock, surprise, disbelief and apprehension for one to purpose such an audacious scheme. They listened as he delivered his reasons for the plan, why it will succeed if implemented in time, and the greatest of gains towards thwarting Germany and its mighty war machine.

“Gentlemen,” Mr. Churchill declared while he thumped his fist on the table, “We must aid Finland with all the supplies, arms and ammo, planes, tanks and troops we can while denying the government of Germany the most vital resource they need. Iron ore, the ore supplied to them by Sweden and shipped via Norway; we will solve both problems with one expedition…cut off the mines from Germany and have a vital route to move our relief forces on into Finland.”

Churchill concealed other, long range plans currently unfolding in Germany that may gain an unexpected harvest in the weeks to come…especially one concerning Chancellor Hitler…

Many in the Senior Command approved the initial outlay of the plan, and made a few recommendations here and there, seeking to refine it into a workable outline. Even Prime Minister Chamberlain gave his reluctant approval after an extensive debate on international law and intervention of neutral and sovereign lands.

Only one man dared to stand in opposition to the plan, and even then only to assume a ‘devils advocate’ stance.

Minister of War Hore-Belisha stood and rapped his fist on the table to gain everyone’s attention. “Distinguished gentlemen,” he began, “recall that we and France have been warned via the government of Switzerland that Germany will regard any presence of Allied troops within the borders of Norway or Sweden as an attack upon mainland Germany itself and result in immediate retaliation.”

“It appears there is an informal agreement between Sweden and Germany; for our agents and contacts are even now reporting that shipments of small arms, machine guns and light cannon, plus significant amounts of ammo have even now crossed into the borders of Finland from Sweden.” Hore-Belisha emphasized each point with a smack of one hand into the other. “This appears to be done via Field Marshal Goring, and with the support of Chancellor Hitler. If we interfere with an invasion of Norway and Sweden we will risk sundering the chain of supply going to Finland…lose that and Communist Russia will win by sheer weight of number.”

Winston Churchill looked upon the Minister of War with eyes that blazed in righteous fury. Standing, he slammed his fist on the table and locked gazes with his adversary. “Understand this, the fate of Finland and of the free world are tied together as one; here are my arguments as to why the plan must go forth…”

The debate raged long into the night and well into the next dawn before the meeting came to a close; nothing had been decided, to the disappointment of many.




18 December, 1939 Germany

He sat behind his desk and paused, stunned by the news contained in the top secret report in his hands. He read it three more times, examining each detail and fact and assumption for the least sign of deception or of the facts being deliberately misconstrued or manipulated.

His aide stood by, having sensed something of great significance is going on in the mind of his leader, and thus he will be here to see history made.

The man closed the report and laid it upon his desk, shocked by the magnitude of weakness to be found within his ‘allies’ of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. He looked at his aide and gave off a rapid-fire chain of orders and sat back in his chair as the young captain ran off to gather the officers so indicated.

Thirty minutes later Chancellor Adolph Hitler stood before his gathered staff in the meeting room that adjoined his office. For over six hours the meeting continued, with Chancellor Hitler demanding hard answers from each man, save for Marshal Goring, whom nodded at the unspoken question concerning the secret supplies being sent to Finland via Sweden.

In due order a plan began to emerge for the opportunity that lay open before them, one which grew greater with each hour Russia bled on the snowy fields, hills, and forests. “Gentlemen,” Hitler said, “We have a golden opportunity that history and destiny gives to one people to change the world every millennium; the arms bought by Sweden will continue without interruption, and we shall increase our gift of military intelligence to Finland.”

Chancellor Hitler walked over to the large wall map and rapped his fist hard on the border of Finland – Russia. “That is where Russia and the communists will be bled white, and here,” he slammed his fist hard lower on the map, “is what we shall do…”

The gathered men looked upon such a bold and simple concept with equal measures of awe, shock and hunger, for indeed a golden opportunity – one filled with danger and extreme risk true – had arrived to deliver an mortal blow to their ancestral enemy.

“Chancellor Hitler,” declared General-colonel Keitel, “with your approval we will begin to make preparations.”

Hitler nodded and then said to the departing officers and ministers, “This information changes all we have expected, the downfall of Russia is at hand once and for all…the death of a tyrant will soon occur.”

As he turned to look out the window he never understood how prophetic those very words happened to be…nor how fiery...

 

You are not allowed to fire yourself. End of story. And secondly, all your readers are sorta like your extra pair of eyes. So if you don't see it, we will.

 

Personally I'm glad for the extra eyes, I need them.

On the part of firing myself I got that from a story series I read one time of a General Freeman who set an example for his troops by stating he should fire himself for any mistake; the story showed he once 'fined himself for speeding and quadrupled his own fine for being 'the SOB in charge so if I break one of my own rules, I pay a greater price than my men in the field.'

Mind you, in the story one of his officers - a Captain, led a desperate rear guard action so well the general promoted the man to Colonel on the spot.

 

20 December, 1939 rear-area of the Russian Ninth Army Corp

Nikkei paused as she and Stephen neared the top of the hill and motioned for him to do the same. She strained to pick up the sound she heard a moment before and then grinned when it became clear, another Russian courier on a motorbike was making his rounds along the main road.

Stephen smiled and motioned to a spot halfway up the hill, a cleft in the rocks surrounded by ample shrubs and trees which made for a near-perfect snipers nest. He motioned to a large boulder surrounded by larger trees where he will cover her as she took down the courier; from long practice both reached their positions, shed their skis and had their respective weapons – the Suomi KP sub-machinegun for him, the master-crafted rifle for Nikkei – readied for business.

A sudden wave from Nikkei told Stephen something else was amiss, as she looked shocked for the first time since the war began. When he looked through the vegetation and onto the main road he understood completely her shock…for an unusual convoy worked its way ever so slowly down the road long since churned to mud and junk due to the near constant traffic and treads of the tanks.

Four motorbike guards led the way for the convoy followed by a lone, light-armored tank, a staff car that was made for a high-ranking military officer, possibly a field marshal, visiting the front lines. To the back of the convoy, four more motorbike mounted guards completed the entourage. If not for the presence of that tank, no matter how small compared to its armored brethren, he would have had Nikkei engage the staff car while he took down the motorbike mounted guards…

“If not for that blasted tank,” he pumped his fist in pure frustration that such a great prize is getting away, only to realize his mistake a moment later…

₰₰​

Nikkei lined her sights upon the two large, fuel-laden, highly-flammable, barrels of the light tank. For once she was glad to have a magazine loaded with Stephens ‘special ammo’ for such an occasion. She kept adjusting her aim to compensate for the slow crawl advance of the armored beast, growing more impatient with each second that Stephen mulled over her taking the shot or for the two of them to withdraw.

From the corner of her eye she saw Stephen pump his fist, their agreed upon signal for her to start any ambush they have established. One final adjustment on her leading the tank, and a gentle squeeze of the trigger…

Bang!
Bang!

Twice she worked the rifle bolt in her palm-guided, up-back, forward-down sweeping motion to reload for the next shot she would need. She paid the tank no more heed, swinging around to the staff car even then breaking and sliding across the iced and mud covered road…

Bang!

The staff cars left-back tire shredded from the bullets impact, the incendiary charge igniting the rubber material almost instantly. The occupants of the staff car leapt from the vehicle as the motorbike guards leapt to cover one man in a black greatcoat…the gleam of the morning sunlight off of his rank lapels denoted him to be a true prize, maybe the Russian General her grandfather spoke of arriving ahead of schedule.

She changed magazines, palmed the rifle bolt and chambered the first round of regular ammo she used. The sound of the Russians firing with pistols and sub-machineguns blindly into the surrounding land did not cause her any alarm…

BOOM!

The tank firing a 76mm cannon round into the woods barely 50 meters downhill from her location did get her notice…

She rolled to one side of the sheltering stone as a second cannon round slammed home closer than the last. Her ears pounded from the deafening noise, bones hurt and gut felt as if it had been reduced to mush. The steady tap – tapping of Stephen’s Suomi sub-machinegun told the tale of dead Russians and his effort to distract the tank…

BOOM!!!

The force of the blast bodily lifted Nikkei off the ground like a rag doll. With ears still ringing like a cacophony of church bells she half-moved, half-stumbled back to the cleft in the stone and gasped at the sight before her…the staff car and most of the motorbikes had been reduced to twisted metal while the destroyed tank poured forth a bellowing pillar of flame high into the morning sky.

Stephen moved from tree to tree, boulder to boulder, aiming his shots to pin down the Russians who sheltered behind the boulders. There, they are safe from his fire for the time, but not from Nikkei…

Shaking, she fought to steady enough to draw a bead on that important Russian officer. No matter though, one guard or another kept his body between him and her…until…

₰₰​

Stephen moved as a ghost across the terrain, steadily closing on the Russians position, determined to collect the Russian officer as due payment for his showing up in Finland. Here was the opportunity of a lifetime, to take down a full-fledged Russian general or field-marshal…or if he can be captured, the boon for the Finnish army will be…

Bang!

Four more shots followed in quick succession, and then came a strange calmness only parted by the continuous roar of the flaming tank. He grinned at the precision work of his granddaughter, moved carefully to the edge of the woods and prepared to cross the road. Stephen wondered what information that might benefit the Finnish Armed Forces awaited his discovery on that dead officer’s carcass…

The sudden arrival of two squadrons of Russian light bombers and fighters which passed low and close over his position changed everything. There is no way they could have missed the carnage that had been inflicted on the small but important caravan; especially as the tank still burned like a blowtorch with a column of black smoke clawing ever higher into the sky.



He retreated back into the woods, and raced to Nikkei to help her get ready for a fast, hard and long march deeper into the forest trails. Three more Russian aircraft squadrons passed overhead, and he prayed that none of the pilots would look down and spot him or Nikkei…if they did there will be no escape.

Nikkei scrambled around the hillside, staying under the forest canopy for concealment. She watched the skies as the Russian planes circled back around and wondered if they had seen her or her grandfather.

A short whistle caught her attention and she watched Stephen wave to her, point down a smaller side trail that snaked among the woods, and pushed off with her poles, pressing to keep up with the hard pace he set for them.

They pushed onward fast and hard to increase the distance between them and the ambush site. Then came the clarion call of a score or more of planes high overhead. At the edge of a large clearing they watched the grand aerial battle then being waged high in the skies; a dance of death between the Finnish and Russian Air Forces so far above the earth…

Contrails swept the clouded sky, here moving in a straight line, there they curved and spiraled until one or two at a time ended in clouds of black smoke. Outnumbered by eight to one the Finnish pilots pressed home each of their attacks, savaging the Russian formations that sought to make it past them, only to cascade out of the sky and into the merciless clutches of the earth.

It ended in less than ten minutes during which Stephen counted the Russians had lost seventeen fighters and eleven bombers. From the trails of black smoke which departed to the east, at least twice that number of planes had been damaged; he hoped every one of the Russians crashed on the way back to their bases. As for losses on the side of Finland, he could not tell one way or another.

Two hours later as the pair stopped to catch their breath, having covered nearly seven kilometers, Stephen gave Nikkei a impish grin and asked, “So my granddaughter, what shall we use to mark your taking of that tank?”

“How about a squirrel grandpa?” she replied. To her amazement he agreed, and when they set camp that night among some old ruins he added five small foxes and one squirrel to her growing tally of kills recorded on the rifle.

“Grandpa,” Nikkei said, and then hesitated, still shaken by the close call with death at the hands of the tanks returned fire. “Who would the Russians send to the front lines escorted by a tank, and so many motorbike riders?”

Stephen paused and rubbed his hand over his chin as he mulled the question over and over. Finally he reached the only logical conclusion that fit the evidence of such a caravan moving with minimal guard. “The only thing that makes sense was either a new Divisional commander or possibly the commander of the Russian Ninth Army Corp, General Dashicev whom we have been hunting for. Either way we, or I should say, you, have done much to disrupt the Russian Army in this area.”

He scuffed up Nikkei’s hair with his hand despite her best effort to fend him off, “Come now Nikkei we have to push on before we make camp. There is an old hunting lodge, or I should say what’s left of one, where we will hole up and figure out what to blow up next.”

“Grandpa is there any chance I can get a bath?” Nikkei asked, not expecting any kind of good news in the matter.



“The place originally had hot water piped in from the local springs, and if I recall correctly the last time I checked they are still working. I’m not promising anything Nikkei, but if you want a hot bath I’ll do what I can to ensure you get your hot bath for Christmas…”

Stephen shook his head and moved to catch up with Nikkei, who raced on down the trail determined to have her hot bath. “Never underestimate that girl…so much like me after all…still a grand old day, and one less major pain of a Russian leader to be concerned with.”

In a handful of days Stephen and Nikkei would discover who was in the ambushed convoy. Yet the chain of events unleashed by their efforts will take longer to unfold and shape not only the Winter War, but the lives of tens of millions of people across Europe and beyond.

 

Good. That's settled then.
That's quite the...example. Slightly frightening but no less impressive.

 

Agreed.

 

22 December, 1939 STAVKA headquarters, Moscow

Premier Stalin watched from the high balcony of STAVKA headquarters as the firing squads prepared for the next round of executions. Normally the sight of such bloodletting would quell his sadistic rages in minutes, but not this evening. No, this evening the blood would flow in red streams across the land. The incompetents who had allowed such shame and embarrassment to descend upon the USSR had to be expunged permanently for their crimes.

Stalin slammed his fist on the stone railing repeatedly, angered beyond sensibility or reason. He had sent his Minister of Defense, Marshal Voroshilov to join with Ninth Army Corps Commander General Dashicev and get to the bottom of the mess at the front lines. The Ninth Army Corps should have sliced Finland in half at the waist weeks ago, yet had not advanced more than sixty kilometers across the border, and if the reports are true, two elite infantry divisions had been destroyed by a bold and reckless Finnish counterattack.

He watched as the condemned men, the military unit who was to travel with Marshal Voroshilov to the front lines, were brought to the wall five at a time. The leader of the firing squad executed each command with well honed precision, his men fired on command with no hesitation and the next in line to be shot had the honor of dragging their dead friends away before assuming their place at the wall.

The fate of Marshal Voroshilov and General Dashicev was made known to Stalin only an hour ago while he had his dinner. So hot was his rage he personally stormed his way to where the bodyguards of Marshal Voroshilov were barracked, entered their commander’s office and summarily shot him dead for his crimes against the state.

Hour after hour he stood on that balcony as the executions continued well into the night. Once the last man of the bodyguard unit was disposed of, the fate of those NKVD troops who failed to secure the roadway followed.

Until the news of the Marshals death had arrived, few dared to challenge his decision to invade Finland and to restore what land rightfully belonged to Russia and Russia alone. Even Sweden and Norway began to have their doubts about standing up against Russia on the side of Finland, until the world wire and radio service had announced the death of Voroshilov.

Combined with another crushing victory scored by the Finnish armies against the Russian forces fighting it out on the Isthmus, many world leaders now pledged to support Finland in any way possible. And now Germany, the ostensible ally of Russia, had begun to send out feelers to the Scandinavian governments to see if German ships bearing arms and supplies for Finland would be permitted passage through their territory.

Once again Stalin seethed at the continuous betrayal heaped upon betrayal of the world nations against the rise of the USSR, and of the domination of the world by Communist forces. They refuse to see and recognize the inevitability of his cause and crusade, to bring the world into a communist golden age no matter the cost in blood and fire.

“No the war will continue on,” Stalin growled, his anger still stoked to levels beyond comprehension, “more men and tanks will be sent, more planes dispatched and we will fight on until I have victory over the Finnish who dishonored me in 1921, or the last Russian falls dead on the field.”

Stalin never moved until the last prisoners were executed well into the next days dawning.


24 December, 1939 Finland Supreme Command Headquarters

For the first time since the war with Russia had commenced Field Marshal Mannheim allowed himself to give off a chuckle and a smile at the bad joke one of his aides told. He returned to the maps and reports laid out on the table before him, listening to the unending delivery of memos, messages, intelligence and so forth.

On the 22nd of December the Russian Seventh Army Corp threw itself at the Mannerheim defensive line, a full force of nine infantry divisions, three tank brigades and a light armor corps of armored cars and fast tanks. The Soviet general had come up with a crafty plan, cross the ice-covered lakes where tanks and armored vehicles could operate and pull long lines of infantry-bearing sleds; other units would mount a simultaneous assault from the land and overwhelm the defenders.

A brilliant plan that would have worked, save for the Finnish scouts and saboteurs operating in the Russian rear-areas who discovered the plan and troop movements…exactly as the intelligence gathered by the ‘Ghost Bear’ had indicated.

Forewarned the front line commanders had engineers rig up a massive surprise for the Russian assault – remote-detonated explosives combined with the usage of their pre-registered heavy howitzers and the new heavy anti-tank cannons (which had arrived via Sweden) that lined the fortified positions along the shoreline.

The Russian attack began with a massive ten-hour artillery barrage followed by the first wave of Russian troops surging across the ice. Explosives and artillery decimated the Russian forces, sending tanks and sleds into the watery depths below shattered ice. The armored vehicles and tanks that did reach the survived this were crushed by the anti-tank guns and the infantry who joined in the one-sided massacre of the lakes.

The land battle had been a much closer matter, thirteen hours of hellish combat that left over two-hundred burned out tanks and thousands of Russian dead stacked like cordwood. The Finnish armed forces had paid a dear price for it, yet the newly deployed foreign volunteers made the difference in quantity and quality…some 25000 troops from Hungary, Italy, Sweden and Norway plus a sprinkling of other nationalities, heroes each and every one!

Field reports combined with intercepted transmissions broadcast in the clear from the Russian Seventh Army Corp headquarters nearly matched. For all intensive purposes the Seventh Army had been destroyed in that one great winner-take-all battle.

Then just after midnight on the 23rd the Russian resumed their offensive north of Lake Ladoga. Five infantry divisions of the Russian Eighth Army Corps, with heavy tank and artillery support, assaulted the weak-appearing Finnish positions with a great deal of enthusiasm and determination; only to find out they had struck hard into a multi-layered, multi-supporting region of bunkers, artillery, machine gun nests, minefields and anti-tank guns which shredded the Russians in less than seven hours.

Again it was the foreign volunteers who helped make the difference, another 20,000 mix-bag of nationalities whose military skills and expertise allowed them to fight as hard as his Finnish army troops! Even the air battle went dramatically in their favor, with twenty-one Finnish Air Force planes downed for ninety-seven Russian. The commanding general for the Eighth Army very politely stayed in his field headquarters when a six battery barrage of Finnish heavy artillery landed on its position.

Field Marshal Mannheim softly chuckled and looked at his gathered officers. “Our troops, the foreign volunteer forces, and the supplies of arms and ammo from Sweden, Norway, Italy and Hungary are making the difference; how ironic that so much of the death we bring down on the Russians has been supplied by their very own ‘ally’ Germany.”

“Field Marshal,” one of Mannheim’s aides quietly said and handed over a series of message forms for him. He read them quickly, one of them several times and looked to his intelligence chief who nodded and grinned like a wolf. He just stood there in shock, unable to believe for a time that two partisans – the Ghost Bear and Snow Fox had doubled their previous coup over the Russians.

“My God Above thank you for this great gift you have given unto us all,” he said and bowed his head in a brief prayer of thanks and praise. The confirmation of reinforcements – reservists and foreign volunteers – to stiffen the Finnish defenders facing the Ninth and Fourteenth armies was great news, and now this gift on Christmas Eve truly was heaven sent.

Marshal Mannheim made a note to have those two partisans decorated if Finland managed to hold on and win the ongoing war.

“Gentlemen,” he called out, his voice instantly cutting through the cacophony of noise loud and distinct.

Once he had their attention he read the intercepted message and after the clapping and cheering ran its course ordered it to be broadcast over national radios. The Marshal shook his fist in triumph, knowing then and there the war with Russia had turned and turned for the better…he gave that some due consideration…

“Pass the word to all our front line forces as well, but indicate they are to be doubly vigilant at this news,” he said with all due seriousness, “The Russians will not forget nor forgive. We can expect them to dispatch even more reinforcements and faster than ever to ensure our nation is crushed once and for all.”

“Understand this much gentlemen,” he continued, his iron-hard gaze locking on every man and woman in turn, “our side has won many smashing victories and the good Lord has delivered the enemy leaders into our hands as well, but we have not won the war. Our greatest battles may well be ahead, thus I am ordering our forces who are facing the Ninth and Fourteenth Russian Army Corps to tighten their defenses so we can pin those forces in place.”

“Gentlemen, I sense a great change is coming in the air, a storm greater than anything we have ever seen will hit and change the world.” Mannheim grinned, never understanding the storm would be one of blood, fire and steel coming down on their enemies in short order.

 

25 December, 1939 rear-area Russian Ninth Army Corp

Nikkei slid deeper into the steaming water and reveled in the intense heat and soft waves that lapped across her abdomen and breasts. She twirled her fingers in the water, generating ripples that spread out and glistened in the soft lantern light; such a simple gift she wanted for Christmas, a hot bath, something she took for granted before the war began…before her world turned upside down and slammed to the ground with brutal intensity.

For four days she and Stephen had been cooped up in the ruins of an old hunting lodge that actually had water piped in from a nearby hot spring. The low moaning of the blizzard reminded her of old ghost stories her father would tell near the fireplace, shadows dancing on the walls as he moved about, often making animal shadows with his hands in renditions of ‘Peter and the Wolf.’

One strong surge of wind that pounded on the door blocked by an old couch and desk, to prevent easy entry by anyone in the area, reminded her that not everyone was enjoying such a bounty as she on the birthday of the Prince of Peace. Most of the old lodge lay exposed to the elements, but enough remained, such as the bathing room she occupied, to provide decent shelter…once they dealt with the bear out of the place that had taken up residency.

As Nikkei reached for the rag and soap Stephen had thoughtfully laid out by the tub for her, she smiled at the fond memories of bear-meat stew…although having to manhandle the brutes 300kg carcass outside so it did not stink up the rest of the place hardly made it worth the effort. Her being able to take a hot bath and rid herself of days of grime and dirt made it worth the effort.

She gathered a rich lathering of soap on her hands and the rag, and then slowly began to scrub down her face, neck and arms. The accumulated grime and tension built from the start of the war eased away bit by bit, and she could relax for a time, free of the cares and memories of the wider world.

On one breast she softly swirled the rag in sensuous circles that advanced unto her swollen nipple. Sensations both old and new flowed into her mind, awakening desires she had never allowed herself to fully explore or to even talk about with anyone. Her eyes closed and a soft gasp passed her open lips as a slight shudder played along her body; the heat of the water accentuated the pleasurable waves which flowed one upon another along the very fibers of her being.

Her free hand came to rest between her breasts, and the fingers slowly snaked their way downward. Once there, they began to caress and tease and please a portion of her body that sent her unto the heavens with sensuous bliss that she could only compare to the songs of the heavenly choirs. Nikkei sensed her heart beating faster and faster as her breath quickened, blood thundered and her body came alive in a rainbow of sensations that could not be described.

She pushed her fingers into the depths of her womanhood as far as she could; determined to draw out each bit of pleasure possible. Of course she was still a virgin at the age of eighteen, unlike so many of her friends and other close kin…none had desired to be with her since she was found out to be unable to have children, thus making her the scorn of the village and a bad marriage prospect.

The wild, raw, primordial surge of flame and heat caught her off guard as a thousand thousands of universes cascaded before her, infinite probabilities of what may be and could be, and then collapsed back into the here and now as she screamed her pleasure to the world when her release hit.

Both hands covered her mouth as she blushed deeper than ever before in her life, wondering if anyone had heard the noise…and blushed even deeper as Stephen burst through the door with a drawn pistol, lost his footing on the slick floor and tumbled face first into the bathtub with Nikkei.

He pulled himself out of the tub and shook his head like an old sheepdog, sending a cascade of water across the room. “I’m soaked,” he moaned while looking at his drenched clothing, shook his head and hoped enough firewood remained to dry them by the fireplace – though they would smell like wood smoke for days. “Better they smell of wood smoke than that of an old and wet sheep dog like me…”

“Grandpa, are you alright?” Nikkei asked as she leaned over the edge of the bathtub. When Stephen looked at her with an abashed grin she gasped, clutched her arms over her bared bosom and slid deep into the waters while a hot blush surged deep and red across her already flush cheeks. All she wanted to do was melt away and disappear; her mind tore in different directions, desires playing a thousand melodies at once while she fought to tame the confusion.

On the battle field sniping at the enemy she has mastered her emotions to a fine degree; but in the matters of the heart, she has never encountered such as she faced now. She lowered her head but could not tear her eyes away from him as he pulled off his shirt and wrung the water of it…the iron-hard muscles of his lithe frame, crossed with a roadmap of scars acquired over a lifetime of hardship and battle, flexed with each twist made upon his shirt.

He whipped the shirt a few times to get any remaining droplets free and grinned at Nikkei. “Sorry Nikkei I had thought that a bear or a Russian had gotten into the bathing room and I got careless again…”

Nikkei was unable to believe her ears, for her grandpa never apologized for anything. “Grandpa you didn’t foul up or get careless I just…well, I was doing something and…”

“Well my granddaughter I have to admit,” Stephen said while softly chuckling, “that is one way to ask a man to join you in the tub, though I’m not sure both of us would fit. Although I could try if you insist…”

He laughed at the cute little squealing sounds given off by Nikkei at his suggestion. Though as he left the room to change and dry his cloths, the sparkle that danced in her eyes spoke volumes to his experienced heart and mind.

 

"So far, so good." as the man falling off the Empire State Building said when he passed each floor.

 

Thanks Ed Itor.

 

Tap – tap – tap!

Stephen pulled the small punch away from Nikkei’s rifle and examined the latest little fox-marker added to the wooden stock. Feeling the smoothness of the indentation he coated the exposed wood with an amber hued stain, when dry it will glisten with a honey-gold texture as any light played across it.

“One more of so many foxes added, I had taught my granddaughter to hunt for deer, boar and bear.” Stephen gave off a deep, disgusted sigh at the winds of fate and ill-fortune. “Instead she has become a hunter of Russians who have raped our homeland and stolen her future. All those years ago when her family adopted her….”

His mind drifted into memories of his lost family all those years ago when they had adopted Nikkei after she had been orphaned. No one knew where she had come from, even the authorities failed to find the parents of the little girl found wandering alone in the woods, her clothing covered in blood…

A girl of true mysteries who had grown into a fine young woman; one that he wished he could have given a life of peace to instead of the damned war the Russians had forced upon all of them.

In the background the static-filled broadcasts of Finnish and Scandinavian radio stations declared their holiday wishes and greetings, and then broadcast the usual updates of the war.

“To all of our members of Finland’s armed forces engaged in the desperate battles to protect our homeland from the barbarians of the Soviet Union. I and all of our people thank you for the dedication and sacrifice of so much you have give for us, and may on this day when we celebrate the birth of the Prince of Peace each of you find relief from this endless suffering inflicted by the Russians..”

Stephen half-listened to the radios static filled broadcast. He heard the details given of the great battle fought on the Isthmus and near Lake Ladoga on the 22nd and 23rd; the Russian Seventh and Eighth Army Corps had been stopped, shattered and scattered before stubborn Finnish resistance “assisted by volunteers who support our cause for freedom and self-determination as a democracy against the tyrannical might of Communist Russia.”

“We wish to confirm that in the last week the Russian Armies shock force of the Russian Ninth Army Corps has suffered extreme setbacks due to our nation’s army, air force and partisans active behind the enemy lines. It has been confirmed that the Ninth Army has lost their commander, one General Dashicev along with the Minister of Defense for the Soviet Union, Marshall Voroshilov who had come to the front lines to see first-hand what had caused the Ninth Army to be held up in the field.”

Stephen turned his full attention to the radio…

“My fellow Fin’s our beloved solders and nationals fighting behind the lines have demonstrated loud and clear to the world why the Ninth Army, along with all other Russian Army Corps, has failed to crush our nation. In the death of the Defense Minister Russia has learned the lesson we will never surrender and never yield to their forces of enslavement. And so with each engagement we undertake against the Russian invaders, we bleed them and bleed them more, until the day will come in the near future when they will admit defeat and seek to make a just and honorable peace.”

“May the time soon come when we can tell in full the actions of the two known as the Snow Fox and the Ghost Bear; may God keep them safe and wield them as instruments of justice against our ancient enemies from the barbarian lands of Russia.”

Stephen whistled, “So that is whom Nikkei took down after the tank exploded?”

He imagined how Nikkei would dance around like an ale-drunken bee after hearing of the prize she had bagged. The death of General Dashicev was welcome news, and showed his guess as to who occupied the staff car in the caravan they had ambushed. Yet the death of Marshall Voroshilov, Russian Minister of Defense, truly marked the greatest prize any partisan sniper could hope to score short of Premier Stalin.

He gently cleaned the rifle with an old rag, gently removing the least trace of dirt, dust or oil his work may have left upon it. “I made this for my dear Nikkei to hunt deer and bear with, and now she ahs been forced by this war to become a hunter of men. I wish her parents could see her now…”

He fought back the tear that threatened to come as his heart lodged in his throat. His children and grandchildren, plus all his friends there save for Nikkei are all gone. His rage at the Russians redoubled in an instant.

“Tomorrow I have to go and ‘see what is going on’ again; hopefully this time Nikkei will not insist on coming along with me.” He looked at the small pile of supplies that had been cached away in the basement of the old hunting lodge. While Nikkei had been taking her bath he had gone down and brought the food, cloths, ammo and other sundry goods the two needed as they hunted Russians.

Also, as he had hoped, the two small sleds he had stored among other goods in the cache remained intact and untaken. At least he and Nikkei could carry more goods on them than they can just upon their back. Plus he had new batteries for his small radio a friend had built a few years ago…

That little transmitter has proven to be a true wonder. Incredibly small, lightweight and reliable, he can use it to relay or receive voice and Morse-code signals. His old friend in the United States who made it was a generation ahead of his time, and a simple attachment allowed it to be powered by a hand-cranked generator-system.

When the tensions between Russia and Finland had begun to increase, he and his fellow smugglers plus some of the contacts they had within the armed forces began to plan and prepare. Thus a relay-chain of a sort exists to pass information and instructions along to those who needed it; they always are sent in brief transmission of Morse-code to avoid counter detection by the Russians.

Other information, orders and the like are broadcast five times daily by the government over the public radio broadcasts. No matter how much the Russians may try, only the leaders of the partisans in specific areas behind the lines possessed the necessary codes to understand them.

“All for the better then,” Stephen softly said to himself. “It’s past time we bleed these Russians as badly as we can and prevent any more chaos falling upon our heads…”

He stopped mumbling at the sound of Nikkei’s ghostly footsteps mixed with the crackling of the flames in the fireplace. His gaze moved to his clothing hung over the back of two old chairs near the fireplace, the heat slowly drying them out after that dip in the tub.

Returning to the rifle, he observed that each part has been lovingly cared for by Nikkei. Stephen nodded his approval, delighted that she had remembered all he could teach her of such matters.

Wrapped in a thick cotton robe, Nikkei sat before the fire and continued towel her hair dry.

Stephen looked up at her, the light from the flames caressing her in a swirling dance of light and shadow. He saw her chewing on her lower lip, obviously troubled by something, or more likely what had happened between them in the bathing room.

“Nikkei what’s bothering you my dear?” Stephen said and laid the rifle down on its white-furred scabbard. “I can tell you are worried or troubled, so please tell me and if I have wronged you somehow…”

He scooted next to her and looked into her tear-filled eyes as she turned her gaze unto his.

She opened her robe to expose her bared abdomen, thigh and breasts for him to see, hoping that he will not turn away from her unspoken question. One hand came to rest on his flushed cheek, the heat flowing into her hand as she began to caress his iron-hard, weather-beaten, scarred skin in such a gentle way that it twitched with each soft and delicate stroke.

“Nikkei I did not mean to offend you earlier…” Stephen’s words ended when she gently touched a fingertip to his lips. She pulled her hand away and shed the robe from her body, then leaned onto her hip, sweeping her legs back behind her at the knees and propped herself up on one arm. With the other she took his hand into her and entwined their fingers.

Stephen’s eyes drank in every sensuous and soft curve of her body, the fullness of her amber hair, soft blue eyes full of life and pain mixed in equal measure, the steady rise and fall of her bared bosom. As his gaze descended to her most intimate of treasures she shifted her leg enough for him to see her bared womanhood and the slight glint of moisture already gathered there on her skin and surrounding hair.

“Nikkei what are you…I mean…” for one of the few times in his life, Stephen found himself at a loss for words as his brain flared to ashen insensibility. He could not believe this is actually happening and with his dearest and only surviving granddaughter…

“Grandpa I want this to be my gift to you,” she said to him. He could hear the love and affection in her voice for him, something that had been there for years and only now did he understand in full…his adopted Nikkei had fallen in love with him long ago and now sought to move their relation to the next level.

“I have forgotten since the war began what it meant to be alive and free of worry and anger,” she said, her eyes releasing a lone tear down her cheek. “I want to be your present grandpa for tonight, to remind us both what life means; I don’t expect to make it through this war, so much death has already come close…and with that tank firing at me…” she shuddered at the memory of how close she had brushed with death that day.

She moved to Stephen and sat down on his lap with her legs crossing behind his back. Her one hand brought his to rest on her bosom; the mere touch of his skin on hers sent a thrill and chill blazing across her being. When he began to caress her breast, teasing more and more fiery waves of pleasure from her body, she leaned into him and all but melted away as the soft snow does before the flames of a fire.

He kissed her cheek and softly blew puffs of his heated breath on her neck. Stroking her hair he looked once again into her eyes and seen the love and nervousness playing against one another. “Are you sure this is what you want Nikkei? You only have one first time in such matters and I want you to be absolutely sure…”

The fierce embrace and fiery kiss she gave him answered all his questions.

So it was that they entered the oldest of songs, and fulfilled the oldest dance of all, two hearts and two bodies coming together in one; the cries of passion and primal release echoed throughout the old ruins until Stephen released his life seed into Nikkei, and then collapsed from the exertion. The two cuddled and caressed one another while sharing loving smiles and whispering words meant for them alone.

An hour later as Nikkei contently slept away, her gentle snore merging with the crackling flames, Stephen gave her a smile and softly kissed her on the cheek before laying down for his own rest. He made sure though that his pistols and hunting knife were within easy grabbing distance if they were needed.

 

Keep up the great work Snow, I check daily for updates

 

Thanks Wolf Knight, the next part will be up tommorow or friday at the latest. How is the story so far? Anything suggestions or such on how it fits together so far?

 

Snow, you know from experience that I tend to say exactly what I think in as polite a way as possible so if there had been anything wrong in my opinion I would have told you. Yes, there have been a few errors here and there but no worse than some of my own. Wrong tense use on occasion and the like. It's a great story so far and I am looking forward to more. I'm stuck on both the Book and on The Hunters become the Hunted at the moment and will continue to work through those issues and PM when I post the next portion of tHBtH.

 

A little surprise for everyone...

28 December, 1939 Suomussalimi, Finland

Colonel Siilasvuo returned the couriers salute and dismissed him with a casual wave of his hand.

Two days ago he had been alerted to important instructions that will arrive at his headquarters; and given the current weather that raged just outside the hotels thick stone walls, it had to be something between extremely urgent and insane for a courier to be risked in temperatures, snow and winds that were the worst in recorded history.

Since him and the 27th Infantry Regiment, now reinforced by three additional regiments of reservists and foreign volunteers, he had waged relentless guerrilla warfare to bleed the Russian Ninth Army Corp white and hold them to this region when from all accounts they could have been used on the Isthmus during the last Russian assault.

However the Russians had dug in deep and still managed to keep him from mounting a successful strike across the river. He could defend and not attack, and the same for them…a frustration that grew all the more with each passing day. Even his raiding parties had met with minimal success, save for sniping at the Russians who hid in their fortified positions.

Only Captain Robinson and his men, aided by the partisans led by the old colonel Stephen and his aide called “Snow Fox” have scored massive success upon success upon success. When he considered the reputation of the old colonel, commonly known as the “Ghost Bear’ in the last great war, it is little wonder the man leads and coordinates the partisans to such a record, even as he and the Snow Fox carry out their own two-person crusade upon the hated Russians.

He opened the packet and withdrew out the bundle of documents and photographs, and whistled when he gave the top page – orders from Field Marshal Mannerheim himself – a cursory glance. They explained in brief and concise detail that major reinforcements were expected to be arriving inside two weeks for the Russian Ninth Army Corp…

Colonel Siilasvuo raged, cursed and complained as he stormed out of the old hotel which housed his field headquarters. He shouted above the howling wind for his senior officers to gather around him as he woke his driver to take him down riverside…he had been forbidden from launching anything stronger than raids across the river to slice apart the remaining strength of the Ninth Army while time remained. So he had chosen to inspect the forward defenses and ensure the Russians received a warm welcome when they struck.

As expected, the defenses were strong and growing stronger with each passing day; with log and stone bunkers housing machine guns, anti-tank cannon and fighting positions for infantry. Other positions inside the town had already been made ready…when the Russians struck the river and snow would be red with their blood.



28 December, 1939 Berlin, Germany

“Ah yes, I will take this one here,” Admiral Donitz said as he looked over the beautiful gold-chain necklace set with fine diamonds. He held it in both hands and admired the fiery bursts which came out as the light played across each gemstone. The jeweler had promised the gift would be crafted to perfection, and so he had achieved yet again with the gift for his dear wife.

“Klaus what do you think of it?” Donitz asked of his bodyguard and driver. He moved around to face the man so he could see the wonderful magic wrought by Karl, Donitz's personal jeweler and one of the few men he called a true master of that trade.

“Admiral, as always Mr. Karl has outdone himself, you have chosen the gift well for Mrs. Donitz and she will probably be pleased beyond measure at your gift of affection for her.” Major Klaus, polite as ever turned back to watching the store and all of the people within it, plus those who paused even for a moment to look through the storefronts windows. His hand never strayed far from the grip of his pistol.

The sound of sirens caused everyone to turn and watch the street as the motorcade of Chancellor Hitler began to pass by. Donitz looked at his watch and smiled, “Punctual as always, I noticed some work was being done on his vehicle last night as I left the office. Did you remember to have that looked into Klaus?”

“Yes sir, I had it checked out by naval security, and the Gestapo Major in charge of security ensured me when I appeared in person that ‘a small problem had arisen and was even now being fixed.’ Most unusual accent though for the man...,” Major Klaus never finished his sentence.

Admiral Donitz expression changed from delight to shock and then abject horror as the Chancellors car came into sight, and disappeared in a thunderous explosion that tore the vehicle asunder. Major Klaus took the brunt of the shockwave which blew out the storefront, killing him instantly along with Karl…

Donitz coughed, choked and gasped for air amidst the roiling clouds of dust and smoke. He made his way out to the street where many vehicles burned, and all too many people lay on the ground in pools of red. One look at the twisted, burning remains of the Chancellors car told him there would be, could not be, any survivors; but he rushed over to see if against all odds his nations leader had somehow survived.

The military escort swarmed the area to gain control as fast as possible; one officer threatened Admiral Donitz until he showed his military papers and then took control over the scene. All too swiftly the truth was confirmed when the fires of the Chancellors car were extinguished at long last.

Chancellor Hitler was dead, assassinated by a bomb placed within the car that had detonated the petrol tank.

“So it has been accomplished,” Admiral Donitz said, sad and shaking his head in disbelief, a wonderful act for the sake of appearances to the masses. His personal agents, ones loyal to him and him alone, had penetrated the network of Russian spies and agents that existed in Berlin…and he knew who controlled them as well…

He never expected their plan to work. Now that it had, his allies in the German government would ensure his succession to the Chancellorship and, as promised for the support of Goering and his faction, would deal with Russia once and for all…of course he still had to make a ‘phone call’ to the mastermind behind this mad plot to ensure his own survival.

 

30 December, 1939 Moscow, Russia

Everyone in the room jumped at the single gunshot that seemed to growl and rebound about the meeting room for the High Command of the Russian Armed Forces. Quickly they resumed their stance of full attention, each expecting to be the next one personally gunned down by the man at the head of the table…

“Comrades I believe my point has been duly made,” Premier Stalin calmly stated as he holstered his pistol. He gave a nod and two NKVD guards rushed over and dragged the body of General Voroshilov, who of late had been recalled to Moscow for ‘private consultations regarding the war.’

“I will tolerate no more failures in the matter of this war with Finland,” he growled, “each day our nation loses yet more influence, respect and position around the world. I have since the failed offensive of 22-23 December given orders for massive reinforcements to deploy in the areas of the Seventh and Eighth Army Corps, we have peace with the Germans and thus our front with them is now reduced to second and third rank units; the elite forces being redeployed will be in place by the end of January, when the final offensive shall begin.”

“The Ninth Army Corp shall conduct limited offensives; they have consistently failed and thus will not be of any more major usage.” He smashed his fist onto the table many times to emphasize his point.

Stalin went on for some time berating the world for all manner of perceived slights and plots being carried out against him and the Soviet Union. His rage grew to such heights and depths that many of the men gathered feared he would either die of a stroke; or have everyone shot down on the spot by the sub-machinegun wielding NKVD bodyguards who circled behind each man like a watching and waiting vulture.

From one side an officer appeared, delivered several message forms to Stalin and then bolted for his life after being dismissed with a casual wave. As he scanned them his mood swung from rage to outright joy back to a simmering, stewing rage that promised death to someone before the night passed.

“Gentlemen,” Stalin declared with a forced calm and smile while holding up the third message form in one hand, “as I stated, we have peace with Germany and now it is guaranteed for some time to come. Our agents in the German High Command have confirmed the news being broadcast over the radio.”

He paused and grinned, “Hitler is dead. Someone managed to place an explosive device inside of his armored car, and needless to say the carnage wrought was phenomenal. Admiral Donitz has been sworn in as the new Chancellor of Germany and thus will take many months to fully dispose of his rivals and gain full control over his nation’s governance.”

The staff officers and ministers shouted and cheered at the news of Hitler’s death, and gave off calls for the long life of Premier Stalin, the Soviet Union and the inevitable domination of the world by Communism. By almost universal spontaneity they began to sing the national song of Russia, their dedication and belief in their cause having been reconfirmed by the universe at large.

Wisely Stalin withheld the two other messages that arrived at the same time. They detailed the movements of Generals Timoshenko and Shaposhnikov, the newly appointed co-commanders of the Finland Front. During the flight to headquarters near a secured airport the plane carrying them, escorted by twelve fighters, was jumped by a large number of Finnish fighters.

Every one of the Russian pilots fought until their planes went down in flames. Despite their best efforts, the plane carrying both generals had been shot down as well with no survivors. Once again the leaders of his armed forces had disappointed him, and the reports of flagging morale among the infantry along with some units on the edge of mutiny confirmed the officers were deliberately failing, seeking cause to oust him once and for all from power.

Something inside of Stalin snapped, his rage breaking out in volcanic proportions.

None of the jubilant officers before him knew what hit them when with a nod Stalin had his bodyguards cut them down to the last. He summoned his personal aide and demanded a prepared document, which once he signed with a few casual strokes of his pen, was sent to the NKVD communications commissar and dispatched.

Within forty-eight hours the blood bath had finished, completely decimating the Russian armed forces higher command and replacing all officers of Major or higher rank with Political commissars. He gave new orders to all of the Russian armed forces; any hint of disloyalty or lack of proper communist spirit will result in that man’s entire platoon or company being summarily executed en mass.

Stalin never understood just how deadly he had misjudged the unfolding chain of events his madness and lust for blood would unleash in short order…


30 December, 1939 Germany, OKH High Command

Admiral Donitz, newly sworn in Chancellor of Germany and all of her people looked out the window of his office and the pristine snowfall from the latest storm. Just over twenty-four hours ago Chancellor Hitler had been assassinated by a bomb planted inside of his armored staff car; in short order the Gestapo had discovered and captured a gang of Russian spies and agents who caused Hitler’s death.

Their execution warrants were the first matter taken care of by Donitz after taking the oath of office. Now he had a monumental choice to make, one discussed long into the night by him and the High Command. He had been aware of plans being drafted, on Hitler’s orders, for an invasion of Russia…he wondered if Hitler had been aware of his pending death, not that it mattered now.

Hitler’s death at the hands of suspected Russian agents, proven or not, gave them the legal and moral justice for the invasion to come. The major world leaders, even those of France and Britain, had been contacted via direct or third-party transmitted cables of the plan to deal with Russia and Stalin for their perfidy in assassinating the German Chancellor.

Many had responded with the usual condolences and various degrees of admonishment of Russia.

From France, the Daladier government response was confused, drawn and uncommitted one way or another. That came as no surprise to Donitz, having anticipated such from the instant the cables were sent out.

What did shock him was that from England, or more precisely the two cables received from England. One from the parliament condemning Russia and urging peace talks are held between Russia and Germany to resolve this matter; the latter, and thus the most important as far as Donitz was concerned came directly from Churchill…

To the Chancellor of Germany, Admiral Donitz,

In concern to the matter of Russia and their demonstrated barbarity to the proper conduct of relations between governments I say this much. So long as Marshal Goering continues to supply arms to Finland via Sweden and no interference with our own arms shipments to Finland comes about, we wish you God speed and decisive victory over the godless Russian government of Stalin.

“Gentlemen,” Chancellor Donitz began as he turned to face the gathered High Command, “most of our forces are in place already since the invasion of Poland and we have managed to secretly increase our forces there by a large degree. Have all of you discussed and familiarized yourself with the plan and overall goals?”

Each officer in turn affirmed his role and detailed any last minute concerns, details and so forth. Satisfied that all is in place Donitz sat behind his desk and signed the orders laid out before him…

“Gentlemen” he said, “Operation Wotan, the invasion and destruction of the Soviet Union, will start at 12:01 a.m. on 10 January, 1940. Stalin has inflicted pain and blood upon us, and now we will pay him and his people back a million fold.”

Stalin sewed the wind with the seeds of war in Finland, and now he will reap the harvest of steel and blood and fire born of the whirlwind coming back upon him.


30 December, 1939 England, unknown location

“Thank you for the call,” Churchill said into the phone, “it had been most unexpected but delightful none the less and I wish you victory in your crusade against Russia.”

He hung up the phone and sighed at the chain of events now coming forth to fruition. The Russian-Finnish war promised to bleed Russia white as Finland continued to defy common sense, logic and belief in their consistent crushing of one Russian Army Corp after another in horrendous battles around their nation.

Even he had listened to the growing tales told on the radio of such heroes as the Snow Devil, Ghost Bear and the Snow Fox. Individuals who had managed to inflict mass carnage at key times and locations on the Russians, and both co-commanders for the Finland Front perished with intelligence given to the Finland Air Forces from Britain.

Of course, the assassination of Hitler carried out by disloyal Germans who assumed the British agents who controlled them were actually Russian, had yielded a case to save the Western world. Russia and Germany will bleed each other white, and by the time they deal with one another, Britain and France will be ready to face the German armies who will come at them.

As a historian Churchill understood all-too-well what forces of death and destruction he has unleashed, but for the sake of a free future and saving tens of millions of lives, he chose the lesser of two evils set before him.

One other matter caused him no end of concern; the simple fact of Admiral Donitz being able to place a direct call to Churchill’s ‘secret’ location meant the man had agents all over England. Agents that for some reason he used for his own mysterious purposes and never shared with his fellow Germans.

Churchill shook his head, mentally replaying the conversation word by word he had with the new Chancellor of Germany. He examined each nuance, mannerism and inflection for the slightest edge it may give him in any future dealings with Admiral Donitz. The sheer ability, audacity, and cunning of the man were incredible to hear and witness as he described to Churchill dates, times, places and conversations of English penetration agents and spies who had manipulated the Russian agents into assassinating Hitler…

Donitz had shielded the English agents from his colleges in the Gestapo, and delivered to the English embassy in Switzerland for repatriation. Churchill folded his hands together and tapped his fingertips one upon another as he tried to decipher this complex enigma enshrouded within a conundrum that represented Donitz…no matter what; Donitz had proven to be an adversary worth watching very, very closely.

 

The intrigue increases and History marches on to new heights and betrayals.

Good story snow and can't wait for how this happens and what this Earth will be like.

 

Thank you Ed Itor; history itself teaches one almost universal lesson in the matters of politicians - you have no friends, only allies of opportunity and convenience.

Of course history is filled with examples, good and bad, of one or two people in the most unlikely of spots in the world who unleash the chain of events that 'changed everything'

I have to admit, writing this mini-saga had been enjoyable; the tale of the Winter War had to be told. What did surprise me to a major degree is that when I decided the 'change everything' moment was how to determine with a degree of reality how events could play out unto the third and fourth level of events...

One scenario I wargamed with some friends resulted in the tale - Churchills plots against Hitler; Donitz ascention, Goering aiding Finland in the Winter War, and the chaos caused in the actions of Nikkei and Stephen.

Once I finish the 'To Dream of Dragons' saga currently in the works, (90 pages, in 25 parts to date) I will consider doing another 'alternate history' for the forum.

The sheer number of reads has been amazing.

Honestly my only gripe I have with the story, as most of us authors do, is I wish more people would comment - good or bad - about it. In this way I could hone my style of writing even more.

I will admit, Ejls was right, she suggested I broaden my horizons and begin to diversify what I write.

Just to let all of you know, the story will be wrapping up shortly, probably two more parts to go.

 

Snow, great work so far, keep at it. The lack of comments is a good sign as most people will comment on the negative over giving a compliment.

As for the fighting and politics: the word Peace in a Political Dictionary is defined as a Period of Cheating between two wars. Thus what you've written makes even more sense from that perspective.

 

Thank you, I'll assume as you say the lack of comments is a good sign.

Also the saying of Politics is 'period of cheating between two wars' is very true. Besides, its kind of fun to write of an old tyrant being disposed of and having the world miss being assailed by his evil.