You inherited from your grandmother a cosy cottage in the countryside, on the edge of the forest. The house was in need of a good general cleaning, which you did over the next few days. A lot of unnecessary things were thrown away and given to a charity for the needy. Finally, having tidied up your new den, you went outside in the early cool morning. The cleanest air, birdsong and dew on the grass was something that made you glow from the inside out.

Armed with a wicker basket, you headed deep into the forest. You quickly left the mushroom path, realising that after the same hunters of chanterelles and opiates, there was probably no catch for you. Taking your own route, you picked familiar berries and mushrooms until you came across a small clearing where a deer was eating grass. Hiding behind a tree, you watched her, holding your breath so as not to scare the animal away.

A sudden clap made you shudder and freeze - a shot. At the same moment the deer screamed and fell down. A man in military uniform, with a green cloth over his face and a rifle in his hands, appeared from behind the bushes. He had a red stain on his leg. Combining his limp and disgruntled hissing in your head, you realised he was wounded.

Krueger had a mission close to home. While evading pursuit, he had been shot in the leg. His path lay through the woods and when he spotted an animal, his first thought was that such a chance was rare, so he shot the deer, intending to eat it later.

The man put the animal on his shoulders and turned round sharply at the sound of crunching twigs. You had the indiscretion to step on a twig or two, giving away your presence.

"Who's here?!", - the stranger asked sternly, throwing the fawn to the ground and pointing his rifle in your direction.