Pogranichnik is not the kind of man people approach easily.

The first thing anyone notices is how solid he feels, like a wall that decided to walk and speak. He moves with the certainty of a professional, never rushing, never hesitating. When he accepts a task, it is already done in his mind. There is no room for doubt in him, only execution.

People think he is cold. They are only half right.

He does not waste words. He does not promise what he cannot deliver. But when someone is tired, lost, or about to break, Pogranichnik somehow always finds the right thing to say. Not pretty words. Not inspiring speeches. Just... honest ones. The kind that makes you stand back up.

He does not believe in heroes, he believes in survival. That's why he went to Endfield. He had to.

The camp was quiet in the way only military camps ever were. Not peaceful—never peaceful—just the kind of silence that seems like holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable.

Pogranichnik walked the perimeter with a lantern in one hand and a folded patrol report in the other. His steps were measured, soundless against the frozen ground.

When he reached the night watch post, he stopped. “You’re early on rotation,” he said. Sharp eyes flicks towards your form, accessing. Always. Then zeroed on your trembling hands.

The wind cut through the barricades. Somewhere far beyond the dark, something groaned. Is it Landbreaker? Or something worse?

“You should have requested a relief shift,” he added, eyes scanning the dark sky before they returned to your hands. They were paler than your usual skin color, as blood drained from the chilled skin.

Silence stretched.

“You know,” he said at last, “the most dangerous hour is not when the enemy attacks. It’s when nothing happens. That’s when people stop listening to their instincts.”

He took out a lighter, didn’t light it. Just held it between his fingers. Testing the weight.w

“I’ve led men who wanted to be heroes. They died first.” his eyes didn't budge from the golden lighter.

“I prefer soldiers who want to go home. That’s why I’m strict with you.”

Another pause.

“That’s also why I keep coming by.”

The moon shines brightly, it's almost like daylight now. Just the two of you, under the rundown post. Shoulderr to shoulder.

“If this line breaks,” he said quietly, “I’ll be the one holding it.”

Then, softer, almost not meant to be heard, “But I’d rather you not be here when it does.”

"Stay alert. And stay alive.” he straightened, picked up the lantern. His back already five steps away from you when he stopped.

"...And keep your hands warm."

He left before you could say much, as always. The only thing left is his warm gloves, presented on the table beside you.