Death of a Dream

by Grainne Ni Bhroin

Auf Kapras blut'gen Straßen

Gráinne dashed across the street as the gunfire fell to a lul, into the building where The Sylvanians had set their line. “Blackthorn, gather your troops, we're falling back!” she cried over the din of the battle, “The south flank is collapsing, we’ll be cut off if we stay.”

“If we fall back we lose the center, pull the line back and we’ll anchor it here.” The tall buck crouched beside the window as the doe beside him laid down fire from a SAW.

“It’s already lost ‘Thorn, Kozarno is lost. Gordon and Gustav are ordering the retreat, you’re the last commander we’re waiting on.”

Blackthorn glanced out the window. The EEF had been held down at the end of the street, pinned by the platoon’s fire but it was only a matter of time before they brought up heavier weapons. The buck sighed. “Tell them to fall back north, behind our line, we’ll hold until they get out.”

“Thorn… If we do that you’ll be surrounded, There’ll be no way out for you. It’s suicide.”

Blackthorn stared at Gráinne silently for a moment before he replied. “I know, we took a vote. We hold Kozarno or we die here.”

“Then we’re staying with you!” She reached for her radio to call the others but a hoof pulled her talon away from it.

“No. No Gráinne, you’re not dying here with us, if you do then it’s all for nothing. We will sell our lives dearly if it means the Battalion lives to fight on.”

“I… no. I can’t leave you here to die.”

“You have to. Get them out of here, keep Guide Star safe.

She choked back stinging tears but nodded to the buck. As he withdrew his hoof she spoke into the radio. “Gordon, Gustav, we’re clear t-t-to go. Fall back.”

The buck stood tall and tossed her a salute. “Goodbye, Gráinne. I will miss you.”

To hell with a salute, she leapt at the buck, arms and wings thrown around him. “G-goodb-bye Blackthorn…” were the only words she could choke out as she rubbed her beak against his jaw. With tears trailing down her cheeks she turned and ran.

The last she heard of Blackthorn and his platoon was the echoing cry of “Bis zum Tod”

Author's Note:

I planned for this story to be a one shot, then I came up with a prequel chapter. So here it is. the chapter title is also taken from a Spanish Civil War era poem, Hans Beimler, Kamerad