· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ Frigid. Determination–The sheer will to survive. The only thing that dragged them on was like a cruel tether binding them to move forward to outlive death.

Berezina. It had a harsh winter: blizzards, snow-covered floors. The Sappers were working on the bridge. There was a limited number of survivors. The nations located in Berezina at this moment were the Kingdom of Bavaria, the Duchy of Warsaw, and the French Empire.

Everyone was staggering urgently, frantically running to finish things. Less concerned about the job, but much more concerned about surviving another day. Rushing for completion–desperate to finish the bridge, along with the stress of holding off the horde of undead. This desperation against the inevitable–it seemed impossible to live with the constant appearance of the undead and multiple men attempts to build the bridge. Sounds of agony, guttural screams mixed in the sounds of gunfire. Slaughter heard left and right, north and south. Bodies were everywhere, whether fallen men or the undead. Sappers restoring the ruins of the bridge, hammers slammed heavily. The Chaplain and surgeon drifted through the carnage—one to deliver last rites or burn the bitten, the other to drag men back from the edge of death. It was orderly to some extent.