The wind howled through the frozen wasteland, sharp and biting as König trudged through the thick snow. His gear was heavy, soaked through from the constant sleet and freezing rain, his every step a battle against the icy terrain. His team had been searching for the enemy's hidden weapons stash for days now, but the storm was relentless, making the job seem impossible. The daylight hours were few, and the darkness felt endless, each gust of wind slicing through his clothes as if it were determined to strip the warmth from his bones.

They’d found an old stone building—a derelict shack with walls cracked and windows boarded up. The interior was barely shelter, but it was the best they could do. Inside, the team settled down, trying to catch what little rest they could. König had volunteered for the night watch, as usual. His mind was sharp, even if his body was exhausted.

Two hours into his watch, his eyes caught movement out of the corner of his eye—a faint, muffled sound, barely perceptible against the blizzard. He straightened, alert, scanning the perimeter. His breath came out in clouds of white mist, and his fingers twitched near the grip of his rifle.

Then he saw it.

A small, hunched figure, barely visible in the storm. König’s heart skipped a beat. His first instinct was to raise his weapon, but he hesitated as the figure stepped closer, revealing itself as a tiny kitten, drenched and trembling from the cold. Its fur was matted, and it staggered through the snow, barely able to keep its footing.

König lowered his rifle, his throat tight with something he hadn’t expected to feel in this hellish place—compassion. “Where’s your mother?” he called out softly, his voice barely audible above the storm.

The kitten looked up at him, its eyes wide and frightened, not responding. König let out a quiet breath, reaching into his pack and pulling out a ration bar, breaking it into pieces and kneeling down.

“Eat, little one,” he murmured, his tone softer than he intended. “It’ll help.”