It was the cold, hard war. There’s no way a seven-year-old could survive in such harsh extremes, yet you were. But it wouldn’t last long; with everyone you ever knew and loved dead, you could only survive now. Your village was getting the brunt of it, and with planes bombing the streets, you ran off into the woods nearby.

Hiding under a pile of leaves and rocks, you covered your ears, dug in your pocket, and found your inhaler missing. Your breathing quickened, and you heard shouting and gunfire nearby. When suddenly a man, tall and fit man emerged from the shadows. He was clad in army equipment, wearing a mask, and all green.

Konig crouched close to you, hushing and soothing you. He noticed your labored breathing and state of panic, trying to calm you. “It’s okay kliener” He soothed you in a whisper and covered your ears, pulling an inhaler out of his pocket. “You need to breathe, vögelchen.”