Sveta knew there existed some truths that could not be avoided. The only one on her mind as she watched Zhanna stumble from the jeep off into the decimated woods was the inevitability of death. She had seen Guarnere and Toye at the aid station, already hopped up on morphine and sound asleep. They'd looked dead, with their limbs mangled and pink stains on the white bandages growing darker with each passing moment. But they were not dead.

Zhanna looked dead, but she wasn't either.

Comfort had never been something Sveta knew much about. She knew how to manipulate. She knew how to kill. She knew how to survive. She even knew how to protect. But Sveta didn't know how to make Zhanna smile or laugh or not shiver as she stumbled between tree trunks.

Back home in Stalingrad with her mother, comfort had meant a quick hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a reminder to watch her words and smiles. That didn't work in the Bois Jacques. All she'd had were cigarettes and promises to look for more bullets, both offerings as empty as the shell casings around the forest.

So she let Zhanna leave, let her go mourn in peace away from someone who probably reminded her a bit too much of home. Zhanna did that for Sveta sometimes, reminding her of home. But Sveta couldn't stay in silence, couldn't exist in quiet, sad peace. She needed to move.

Sveta left the relative safety of the CP without another word. She knew who she wanted to talk to. But he was off on patrol, if she remembered the orders right. And unlike Peacock, mercifully gone from the line now, Ron could command his troops just fine on his own.

Her boots crunched fragments of trees into the dirt. With each footfall she tried to push away the knowledge that blood sank into the ground alongside melting snow. Slush could hide the red, but it couldn't hide the truth. Death was all around them now.

If she couldn't talk to Ron, Sveta would've settled for sharing a smoke or drink with Harry. But he'd been evacuated as soon as the siege had broken, his damaged body patched up but still needing rest. She hoped that his stay in the hospital would be comforting and quiet.

Somehow she doubted it.

He wouldn't have someone like Guarnere to back talk and make snide comments. But then, as Sveta thought about it, trying to ignore the decimated trees to either side, she supposed she could've done worse than Guarnere in the hospital. She could've done a lot worse.

She didn't think of him as a friend. Certainly not. But as much as she'd been loathe to admit it at first, Guarnere had been a world class leader. He looked fear in the eyes and spat at its feet. His brown eyes had held nothing but raw determination and grit. With him and Toye gone from the battlefield, the war against the frozen dark would only grow worse. No more sputtered curses as they walked the line. No more laughs and outward, unbridled comments against their idiotic CO.

Malarkey, who would undoubtedly get a nod to Platoon Sergeant, did an admirable job of keeping spirits up. But he couldn't command the fear to just leave like Guarnere could. Sveta sighed.

"Captain?"

At the sound of Sergeant Talbert's voice, Sveta paused. She looked right, and found the man in question standing with Lipton in the shadow of a miraculously still-standing tree. Neither smiled. She didn't even try to fake her own. "Sergeants."

"How's Lieutenant Compton?" Talbert asked.

Lieutenant Compton. Not well, she knew. But they couldn't know that. Maybe as his friends they deserved the truth, but she would not be the one to give it to them. "He's doing better. I have full confidence he'll recover."

Talbert nodded back. His frown turned into a tight smile. He shuffled his feet, his face red from the cold. She wondered where the scarf he'd managed to find had gone. Maybe he'd lost it in the barrage. Sveta spared a glance at Lipton. He didn't even make an attempt at pretending he believed her.

"Where are you heading, Captain?" he asked.

Sveta sighed. She didn't know. "Just walking the line. Anything you need from me?"

"How about a new Commanding Officer?" Talbert said.

Lipton straightened up at his snap, but Sveta didn't mind. They needed to let off the steam. And he wasn't wrong. "Well, Talbert, I'll see what I can do. Not sure how Dike would take to being replaced by me, though," she tried to joke.

That got the desired effect, as both men gave small snorts of laughter. With a smile, Sveta left them. More rows of trees, some broken and mangled, some still standing, passed on every side. Haunting, really. Sveta didn't like it. It scared her.

She wondered where Zhanna had gone? Had she found a foxhole to take shelter in? Sveta didn't know how to comfort her but she hoped that Zhanna had her own methods, or at least a bottle of alcohol.

She probably didn't though. Sveta had basically run out, there was no way Zhanna had much more. Pity. Yet again, she wished Zhanna had taken the cigarettes. Even the joke about Ron hadn't lifted her deep set frown though.

It seemed luck was with her that day though, more than it had been with Compton, Guarnere, or Toye certainly. She found Ron dismissing the sergeants under his command. He had a few fresh cuts on his face, one just under his right eye. Exhaustion permeated every fiber of his being as he had yet to face her, watching the men wander off.

"Ron," she said. At his name, he turned, straightening up. Sveta didn't bother to offer him a smile. He deserved more than a mask from her. "How are you doing?"

"We're holding the line," he said.

Holding the line. That was all they could hope for, she supposed. Sveta came to stand beside him, leaving a few inches between their shoulders as they looked off into the trees. Darkness had started to descend again, cutting down the visibility. At least that meant they didn't have to see the carnage.

"Easy?" he asked.

Sveta frowned. She looked at him. Even a few inches away, she could all but feel the warmth radiating from his breath and his body. She studied him, his hazel eyes that seemed to always stare into her soul. Sveta shivered. "They've been better, Ron. With Compton, Guarnere, and Toye gone, they're running out of leaders."

He didn't respond right away. He just watched her, staring down the couple inches he had on her. Then he looked off into the trees. "They'll hold. You weren't there in Toccoa, Svetlana. But they'll band together. They've been through too much not to."

Sveta held her breath. She'd heard about Toccoa. But if she was honest with herself, it wasn't so much Easy that worried her. She feared something else. "I'm worried about Zhanna," she admitted.

Ron turned to her. "Really?"

"You're surprised?" she asked. Sveta bristled a bit in the cold, but she knew he didn't mean anything by it. She'd never been the most forthright about her emotions. "I'm concerned about her ability to hold off the cold and the fear. I think it's getting to her. And..."

Sveta trailed off. Even when he asked what she'd wanted to say, Sveta kept it close. She'd seen the anger in Zhanna's eyes when she'd seen her after the disaster of the shelling. She'd seen the anger, and she'd thought it only natural. But now Sveta wondered if the anger had been meant for her, not for the universe.

But she could never speak that out loud.

Sveta looked at Ron. "It's nothing."

"You should get back to the CP before the sun goes down completely," Ron said. "Can you take my report?"

Taking the small sheet of paper, she tried to smooth out the wrinkles before tucking it in her pocket. Sveta offered him a small smile. "Good luck, Ron."

"Get some rest," he told her.

Sveta didn't mind that it sounded like an order. They both knew he couldn't order her to do anything. But she nodded. Rest was just what she needed. Rest, and a cigarette. And as Sveta found herself back at the CP, in her foxhole with smoke trailing from her lips, Sveta wished again that Zhanna had accepted the gift. They all needed the warmth. And Sveta thought Zhanna needed it more than anyone.