Reluctantly agrees.

Adam, after cursing under his breath, resolves to follow Graeber's instructions, dismissing his fear with a swallow and frantic run forward, his Mauser glinting off the moonlight as he quickly fades into the fog.

Graeber waits for a few seconds and then turns to the shack, hurriedly opens the door, and turns on the acquired Taschenlampen from Adam’s first guarding partner. He shines the light inside, awkwardly gripping it with his Mauser.

He jabs his rifle forward, forcing everyone back, especially the men. Then he searched for the girl. He narrowed his gaze and jabbed the light in towards the men, his mind searching for the Russian word for “girl,” and when it clicked, he shouted. “Devushka?! "Devushka!”

The men moved forward. Graeber shouted again, phrases he was familiar with. “Nazad! Otoydi!” His Russian is worse than his French.

“Natasha!” He shouted, the men inching close, probably knowing Adam was gone. Graeber’s rifle was imbalanced with the bayonet fixed forward, the top casting forward from the light beam. He couldn’t shoot; stabbing one would probably cause the others to jump. The name caused one of them to burst out laughing.

“Eto ne yeyo imya, nemetskiy svoloch',” it was in Russian, but Graeber glared back and spat in English, taken offense despite not knowing what was said.

“I’ll blow your fucking head off. devushka. Now.”

“Yeyo zovut Olena,” the Russian said.

Graeber’s mind spun, his eyes flicking to the others. “Olena?” He blushed, just now knowing the girl’s name. Then he barked loudly. “Olena!”

There was no movement for a few heartbeats, but she eventually moved from the back. When their eyes met, she gave a vague smile. She turned to the others, almost pleading. “Eto khoroshaya sobaka,” and then she turned to Graeber. “Hi.”

“You can leave,” he whispered, eyes stabbing at the men, warning them to get back again. They created distance, taking heed to whatever words Olena told them. “You can go.”

Olena stared, her mind translating the words as fast as she could. Then she mouthed the words. “Go,” and “You.”

Graeber cleared his throat. “You. Go.”

“Why?” She whispered.

Graeber tried to speak, but found his throat closed. “Out. Now,” he grabbed her wrist and yanked her towards him, leaving the men behind.

The nightlife greeted them. And Olena gasped, hugging herself to the chill. She cursed and shivered, her expression going sour. “Run,” Graeber urged, pressing the light to her chest. “Run!”

Olena grasped the light and stepped back, the moonlight casting a ghostly hue on her face. She stared, horror-struck, then frantically started to question his logic—where? Where would she go? Where was she even?

Her voice steadily grew until she was babbling loudly with a voice so loud it was echoing into the fog-filled forest. Graeber tried to shush, but then she screamed, feeling his hands grip her shoulders.

Behind her, lights started to turn on, and yelling from Adam and his reinforcements came out. Graeber threw his rifle down and pointed to the forest. He shoved his flashlight into her chest and pushed her forward. “Olena. Schnell!”

With that, she finally snapped out of her state and bolted into the forest. Graeber fell to his knees, holding his face, groaning painfully. When the others arrived, they surrounded him. “What’s wrong with you?!” One of them demanded.

“That bitch struck me after I let her out to take a piss,” he stood with a stumble, hoping that his acting surpassed those in American movies, reaching for his rifle. “She ran off into the forest. She took my flashlight, but I’m lucky she didn’t grab this, too.”

Graeber counted a dozen new soldiers, including Adam. Then he realized most of them were SS— and his stomach flipped. An officer, he guessed, waved his hand and grabbed several others to form small teams— he threw Adam towards Graeber and shouted. “Search for that swine!”

The soldiers moved into the forest, the lights turning off one by one as they broke ground, stomping like hunting dogs after a rabbit. Graeber wondered what would happen when they found her— the only “if” was whether or not Olena would tell about his attempt to free her.

Adam tripped, causing a line of curses to break among him. “Idiot!” He shouted. “Why did you manage to fuck this up?”

“I didn’t take the bitch to be so crafty. I assumed she was broken in and not able to fight. Let’s hope it’s us that finds her.”

“Those SS soldiers will probably kill her on the spot, so it makes no difference to me.” he dusts himself off and continues forward. He shivers. “I hope it was just paranoia, naming us to think there were more of them in this forest.”

That was the least of Graeber’s worries. What if it came to light, along with all the other things he’s done? Covered for Katarzyna, let Natalie escape, and more recently, Olena.

Cold sweat beaded down his neck as they traversed the dark woods, with ghostly fog reaching out to them like bad memories. Graeber gnawed at his lips, the concepts of his good deed coming back to haunt him, biting his ankles with every step through his boots.

It felt like an hour had passed in the dark, but in reality, only 20 minutes had. Graeber had let time get hold of him, and so he relaxed, letting stress overpower rationality. “She escaped,” he thought. “She got away.”

Then a figure popped up and ran, only a foot away from Adam, who gasped and snapped a shot at the figure. It was just a blur, but even through the literal fog of war, Graeber knew it was Olena.

“Graeber,” Adam shouted, fumble-fucking his bolt. “Shoot that bitch!”