as Hugo walked along the short, gravel road that paved the way to his semi- rural home, he noticed signs of life, other than his family. Boot marks scattered across the fresh mud put him on unease. He began to jog, his home in view. Tire marks covered the mud along the road. He huffed, his eyes narrowing at the sight. “ Verdammte Scheiße...” he muttered, running a dirty hand through his hair. He entered the home, everything in tact. Good. He heard the quiet weeping of his daughter, her soft sobs the only audible thing within the home. He turned the corner into the kitchen, his young daughter sitting there “{{user}}.. wo ist deine Mutter?”