As the night settled in, everyone used this time to go over their kit, and wash both themselves and their uniforms. A line of tunics were strung up on a thick piece of rope between two trees and the men gathered around the general area outside their pup-tents, clad in their white undershirts and jeep caps. It had gotten quite chilly outside with the coming of nighttime, and had abandoned making the smaller, more personal fires in favor of a larger one, which they now huddled around as they ate their supper. They didn’t know if there were Germans in this forest, but if there were the fire would hopefully be small enough to not be noticeable from a distance, especially with the sheer thickness of the foliage. They highly doubted there were however. Lieutenant Castillo had taken to eating out by the river, hoping to have some peace and quiet in this time as so to clear his head and devise a plan. So far, moving along the river was still the best solution he could come up with, but it was extremely risky if there were krauts here, no doubt they would be using the river for the same reasons they were. But it was much better than wandering aimlessly through the impossible thickness of the forest.

The compass bugged him, maybe even scared him, he didn’t know much about the natural way of things, but he knew enough about compasses to know how they worked, and for his to get so out of place as to start spinning like that, he didn't really have an explanation. The foliage that made up the forest sent doubts through his mind they they were in France. The way the tree bark peeled and smelled, the ferns, leaves, and even the few flowers they had encountered were not of the ecosystem of France, or anywhere on Earth even, well, perhaps in the Amazon, but then how would hey have gone from Europe to South America?

He stuck a piece of meat in his mouth and chewed it slowly, food supply was also on his mind, his troop only had their twenty-four hour meals, of which they had already eaten dinner and supper, they had but breakfast left, as they had eaten at the local canteen before marching off. They needed to get back to friendly territory before food runs scarce. Of course, they could always catch some game, he had seen a rabbit once during their march through the trees, but he couldn’t rely on one sighting to feed his entire platoon. And he sure as hell wasn't going to trust any of the plants to eat. This made him favor the plan of following the river, they could easily catch some small fish and prawn he had seen swimming about down stream. Surely the fish couldn’t be as bad as the forest their river resides in.

His headache had mostly gone away at least, perhaps he just needed to eat. None of his men liked wearing the masks, he didn't like it much either, but he had ordered them to keep them on just to be safe. They took them off of course to eat. Placing down his can of packet meat he took a bite out of a cracker biscuit from his B-Unit. That’s when he heard walking up behind him, and soon Brown was seated next to him, a cup of coffee in his hands.

“What do you need Corporal?” Castillo asked him.

Brown shook his head, “Just needed some time to clear my head.”

Castillo nodded, “We’re definitely in this shit of it right now, this whole place had my head turned around.”

Brown swirled his coffee, nodding his head lazily.

"How's your head."

"It could be better, still got a bit of throbbing."

"What about the others?"

"I wouldn't know, I'd be willing to say about the same for every man here."

"Well wouldn't be wrong in my case." Castillo gave a light chuckle, if only to kill the sour mood.

They were silent for sometime, Castillo continued his eating.

"I came to ask for Summer's dog tags." Brown said suddenly.

Castillo said nothing as he finished his meal, then looked across the river, “You seem to be taking Summers death pretty well.” He looked over to Brown who took as sip of his coffee. “I know you too were close even before the war.”

“We grew up in the same town together, parted ways after my family moved to Kansas." Another sip, "Went back to my hometown in Iowa to visit my Grandparents. We meet up at the old diner we used to get soda from, we didn't have a fancy pharmacy you see.” He swirled his coffee, “He helped me a-lot during our deployment. Almost got separated a lot too. Lose more riflemen than gunners I suppose. And then were were assigned to your platoon, together again, and now we’re here. I’m still alive and kicking, and he’s five feet under, worm meat.” He shook his head.

Castillo put a hand on his shoulder, “Look Brown, there’s a reason the Army tells you, warns you, not to enlist with friends and family, at least in the same company. That’s why they separate brothers into different regiments, hell, even battalions. Cause shit like this will happen, and it does happen. You loose your brothers, whether it be in arms, or by blood. People die in war, there is noting pretty about it and though some might try to tip-toe around it, many people give the ultimate sacrifice to serve their country. We're just soldiers, small pawns in the big game, here to follow orders and carry out the deed. But in doing so, we protect the ones back home, our family, our friends.” He took his hand off his shoulder and looked back over the river.

Brown said nothing, thinking on his words, “Is that why you buried those Krauts?” he finally asked.

Castillo looked back to him, “You can’t blame them. Their just like us, pawns. Yes, they killed. But so do we. I don’t agree with anything the Germans have done in the last few years, they started this damn war. And I would like nothing more than a bullet that Hitler bastards head. But if you let rage, and hatred consume you on the battlefield, it doesn't matter who you aim it at, you're in the wrong.” He said calmly, but the hard look in his eyes showed he meant every word.

Brown shook his head, “Not many of the others feel the same way Lieutenant. Myself being one of them.” He was silent for a moment, “About the tags.”

Castillo was silent for a moment, then reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a pair of shiny dog-tags. He handed it to Brown, who took it slowly, glaring at them with a fierce look in his eye.

Castillo blew the air out his nose, “I’ve fought enough to know that hating doesn’t get you anywhere Brown. It also doesn’t help to blame yourself over the people that are dead, those that are dearest to us. The best you can do keep moving forward, if only for them. Now go get some rest, we march out in the morning, tell the sergeants to get a rotation in order.”

Brown placed the tags in his pocket and nodded, “Yes sir.” He stood up and walked away.

"And Brown."

He stopped mid-step and looked back at the Lieutenant.

"I'm going to need those tags back once we get out of here. Got to report in the casualties. I can get them back to you after, alright?"

Brown nodded and continued on his way.

Castillo just stared into the night. It was hard, trying to contain all the anger and hatred he had bottled up inside himself, but it’s whats kept him sane, and it’s whats kept his men alive.

Most of them at least.

A full night's sleep behind them, their tunics dried, their guns greased, and stomachs full with breakfast, Castillo’s platoon marched down along side the bank of the river as they avoided the wood. They moved faster alongside the clear banks of the river, though more often than not a tree or bush grew alongside the bank, their roots collecting from the endless abundance of water the river offered them. The sun had just given the slightest sign of rising and the moon falling, they were moving at a much faster pace than back home, but at least it wasn't a rapid plummet over the horizon with a swift replacement as it had been the day before. No, this time, the sky was lighten by the bright warm colors of dawn as the twilight was driven out, retreating with the falling moon before it was lost over the treetops. It was peaceful. To some overbearingly so. One had come to feel two ways about the lack of loud noises in the army, you either embrace it whilst you can, or you pray it goes away, silence is never a good sign.

Lee was not one of those people, he enjoyed his peace and quiet when he could, if they were stationary he could be writing right about now, but he could settle for listening to the flow of the water, and the chirping of the early morning birds. He often had to step over a large root that crept towards the riverbank, and he almost tripped on what he could only assume to be a rabbit hole, thankfully Davis had been there to catch him.

“Careful there Lee, watch where your stepping.” He said through his mask.

Lee unlodged his foot from the hole and kicked some dirt into it, “Why do these damn rabbits always have to nest where it the least convenient for us? This is the second time this month I’ve almost lost my ankle to a random hole in the ground. These damn masks don't help.” He huffed.

Davis chuckled, “Not like any person in their right mind would come wandering out here.”

“So what does that say about us?”

“That we’re damn near fucking crazy.”

They both chuckled as they caught up with the platoon, “So how’s your head? You seem to have got cooled that hot-head of yours.” Lee said beside him.

Davis nodded, “My head isn’t killing me as much anymore if that’s what your asking, we were probably all just tired, hungry, and I for one ain’t afraid to admit I was scared back there.”

Lee nodded, “Bravery is being the only one who knows you’re afraid.”

Davis grinned, “So what about you? You feeling okay?”

Lee gave a sad smile, “About as good as I can be. Been thinking about Summers a-bit though.”

“Look Lee, I already told you it’s not your—” Davis was cut off mid-sentence when Lee bought his hand up.

“I know, I know. The Lieutenant would say the same thing. But I'm not thinking about him specifically, just the whole situation is all."

Davis raised a brow, not that you could see it through the mask, “The situation?”

"We should have know better.”

Davis said nothing.

Castillo suddenly threw up his hand and they halted, he pointed down and they dropped. There was a solid set of trees growing along the bank before them with some shrubs alongside them. Everyone crept up slowly to where Castillo was peaking around a tree trunk through the shrubbery. Lee and Davis slid up next to Brown and Wilson to get a look at whatever they had stopped for.

“The hell is it? Krauts?” Grauer asked hushed from behind them all, resting the useless radio on the ground.

Castillo lightly shook his head, “I don’t know what they here are.”

The men held varying expressions at the creatures before them, some wide eyed in surprise, others squinting in disbelief, and Herrera may have been too curious for his own good. Some ways away from them, were a pack of about seven dog-like or, at least they all looked dog-like things. Their bodies seemed to be made up crudely of sticks and twigs, large hollow logs formed the head, and fierce green and yellow glowing eyes were embedded into their skulls. They all drank from the river, their heads almost fully emerged within the water, shifting their back legs to keep balance.

“The fuck are those things?” Wilson asked.

Castillo kept watching them carefully, “I don’t have the slightest clue. Herrera?”

“Why the hell are you asking me? I’m a medic, not a biologist. All I can tell you is that they look canine or even feline related, and their bodies seem to be made of a hardwood of crude sticks stuck together.” He could tell this with the binoculars he was holding.

“So, they're wolfs made of wood?” Garcia asked, skeptical.

“Unless somebody took a bunch of poor dogs and tarred them with sticks and shoved bulbs in their eyes, then yes.”

“That’s the most bullshit thing I’ve ever heard.”

Castillo looked back to him, “We are literally lost in a fucking dark forest made up of the sickest trees I've seen in my life, my compass spins like a goddamn merry-go-round, and the moon falls out of the sky. I think this world could do with a little bit more bullshit.”

All the Timberwolves suddenly lifted their heads from the river, water leaking out their closed mouths and turned to approach the treeline. Everyone ducked as they turned, hoping they didn't smell them. Their bodies reeked of sweat from the marching, and the morning was warm, the air thick. The wolfs gave some growling, and a few snaps of the jaw, then they scurried off into the unknown. Lee was the first the raise above the large tree root that grew next to the shrubs where he rested his head against, he held his rifle ready to draw, and peaked through the breaking in the leaves. That's when he gazed right into those terrible yellow eyes. A wolf had apparently stayed behind, curiously staring around as his pack moved ahead, his head must have just been swiveling towards their direction when it made eye contact with his, but that was all it was, they meet eyes.

They stared for a few seconds, but it felt eternal to Lee, like looking down the barrel of a gun, the only thing between you and the Almighty. The wolf growled, its wooden chops rising to show its jagged wooden teeth, and turned and sprinted off. Lee let go of the breath he was holding.

"What the hell..." Lee muttered. Perhaps it was more fearful of them than they were of the pack. A bunch of grown men with guns and gas masks can be a pretty intimidating sight.

Castillo poked his head through the shrubs a few moment after he saw Lee do so, and stood up fully.

"All clear, let's move." Castillo ordered.

They got to their feet and were on their way. Lee doing his best to forget the eyes staring into his soul a moment ago.

Sergeant Miller took his knife away from the tree and cleaned it on a ripped piece of cloth. The tree leaked with the initials, "U.S". The smelly sap glowing slightly in the darkness, making the men glad that they were still wearing the masks. Everywhere around them the forest seemed to consume them, miles and miles of thicket, the darkness of the trees and bushes were like that out of a horror novel. They should surely be lost, but those initials shone like a beacon through the darkness, they knew the way back. Miller went forwards once again, his squad behind him.

They were on the hunt for, well, something.

"It doesn't matter, be it a rabbit or a deer, we need something to give the men." He had told him. So here they were, moving as silent as one could through the rugged foliage. The sun was readying to set by the few glimpses of the open sky through the leaves of the trees.

Sergeant, I think I saw something off to the right." He heard Davis call behind him.

The all took cover behind some trees. Davis peaked and signaled movement with his fingers, and distance.

Miller peaked around the tree and spotted a silhouette moving a few hundred yards behind the trees. Davis sure had a sharp eye.

"What is it?"

"I don't know, it's just a shadow from this far out, but I saw something moving."

Davis took out his scope and secured it to his Springfield, he brought it up.

"It's a deer sir, a buck."

"Damn our luck, can you hit it from here?"

Davis said nothing, then he pulled the trigger, the shot ringing out and echoing throughout the forest.

"Got it sir." He said as he ejected the smoking casing.

"Good work corporal, lets go get our kill and head on back to camp, we'll be eating good tonight." He looked to Lee, "Stay here while we grab it, we'll be heading back to camp once we do."

Lee saluted, and leaned up against a tree, keeping a look out as the Davis and Miller moved to secure their kill. It was risky taking it, that shot must have been heard form miles around. He was just hoping no Germans would be close enough to hear it. If there was anyone else even in this God forsaken place.

A chill suddenly went down his spine, he suddenly felt he was being watched. He looked around at his dark surroundings, there was a rank odor, one that the mask failed to filter, one even worse than that came from the tree sap.

"Lee, check out the rack on this one—the hell is that smell?"

Lee shook his head, "I have no idea, "He took in his surroundings once again, "I think it would be wise to get back to camp, I've got a bad feeling."

"Doesn't everyone?"

The dusk had settled a calm upon the forest, a breeze blew every so gently, and the clouds glided slowly across the orange sky as the sun set. It had been non-stop marching for the past few hours, and only now had they taken to resting, and only resting. Castillo was still pondering whether they should continue on for the rest of daylight, it would be a waste after all, but, they had found another nice clear area along the bank to camp. These were rare he knew, having only seen the one they had camped prior. And so the men sat around on fallen logs or where a bit of soft grass grew along the treeline. They had all removed their webbing and knapsacks, and their weapons leaned against logs and the trunks of trees. They were hungry as well, having eaten their last rations this morning, and had already consumed what they had saved. Sergeant Miller and his squad had gone into the forest to hunt and forage for something to cook and hopefully not poison the entirety of the platoon.

There was some rustling to revival Sergeant Miller, a decent sized buck on his back, followed by Lee and Davis, Grauer had stayed behind with the radio.

The men crowded around them, the buck being taken to skin.

"Seems like you found us supper and then some sergeant. Hell, if only we had some salt we'd have three days rations just off this thing." Castillo patted the buck.

"Thanks to Davis, him and his sharp eye." Miller chuckled, patting Davis on the back.

"Was nothing sir."

Miller chuckled again, "I bet it wasn't, he nailed the sucker at a couple hundred yards through the trees. If that ain't something."

The men ate well. Lee didn't mention the smells.

It had been a few hours since the nighttime settled in, guard rotations had been assigned to the men to take watch, Lee had been assigned for the third hour rotation. He had taken It had been hard to focus with his headache, but he would pull through. He sat against a tree on the right side of camp, a small fire burning before him, just enough to give him some light, and keep him warm in the seemingly freezing temperatures this place had dropped to during the night. It was supposed to be summer, but he wasn't complaining, he preferred the cold. All the years if California heat had made him grow fond of the chillier degrees. He had taken his mask off, it didn't seem to be helping much anyways, and he had noticed a smell a-mist the air; it was a strange smell, one of earth and the vegetation of the forest, and the stench of sulfur.

His fire flickered as a slight breeze blew from the river, the luminescent yellow light around him flickering around with it. The sounds of the forest dominated his hearing, as did the the soft following of the river. The stars were fully visible, hundreds of thousands of them could be seen accompanied by the beautiful glowing moon. It was intolerably quiet; and he gripped his Garand tighter because of it.

"Christ, what the hell are we doing here..." He said to himself softly, sighing after it. Lee took out his small notebook and pencil. Nobody but him knew what he wrote in there, not even Davis, no-one even knew where he got the damn thing, but that wasn't really important, the others were usually too busy trying not to get shot most of the time to really care. But right now, he needed to clear his head, even if it meant slacking off on duty, the Lieutenant would understand, hopefully. At-least the deer had been good.

He didn't know how long he had been writing, not long, as he had not been switched out yet; but he was broken from his trance at the sound of some shifting bushes to his right.

And a similar, horrible stench.

He looked up, scanning the area the rusting had come from while trying his best not to gag; he put the book and pencil back in their proper pocket and stood, rifle in hand. More rustling. He readied his rifle, pointed towards the area of the sounds, and took a few short steps forward. Finger on the trigger ring, ready to react.

He noticed the silhouette of something, and vicious those glowing eyes.

His eyes widened. He opened his mouth to call the alarm, but Lee was shocked to stillness as the creature came into the light. It was the same wolf of wood that had seen him through the bushes. Big and bulky, it reached up to his chest, its eyes pierced the darkness, and the stench it produced smelt of wet leaves and rotting wood, though also that of feces and rotting meat. It was absolutely horrible.

It growled loudly, and time seemed to slow as it leaped towards him, mesmerized by those beaming yellow eyes; in a fit of panic, he unloaded his entire clip into the beast. The shots echoing for miles around, and the flashes lighting up the dark world around him. He could have sworn he hit it, he thought he could see splinters fly and sap flow. But the large wolf, the alpha, was still soon upon him, it's huge wooden paws reached out and swiped.

Then pain.

Author's Note

~~Currently looking for a new editor. Though I do trust my eyes to catch mistakes as I make them, I would feel much better with another pair to help me out.~~

~~Send me a Pm if you're interested, and we'll see where it goes from there.~~

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