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The storm showed no sign of slackening anytime soon. The pines outside bent and swayed with every gust, cutting the blowing rain into misty streaks between their boughs. Where was he? She couldn't help but worry. He would come, he always did. He promised. She told herself it was just her nerves being wracked by her conscience. Wrong. Forbidden. Off-limits. That's what she had been taught. Every fiber of her being strained against the thoughts, the so called morals that had been instilled in her. How could it be wrong though? They were both lupines, from differing clans, sure, but lupines none the less.

The tiny cavern gave her a sense of claustrophobia, but a sense of security at the same time. The walls were slightly damp and the ground was carpeted in forest detress from many seasons having come and gone. It at least, was dry, save for where the weather crept in at the entrance. She ran her fingers through the fur on her neck, unthinkingly trying to smooth what the rain had tufted. A branch outside snapped and she started at the sound. Her heart stopped in her throat and just as sudden as the snap, a silhouette burst through the cascade of water and proceeded to shake itself dry, drops flung about spackling what was dry with bits of moisture.

"Corlieu!"

"I'm here sweetheart. I was afraid you wouldn't wait up for me." He said this with a chuckle as he stroked her cheek, trying to chase the worry from her soft blue eyes.

"I heard that mobilization had begun again in the valley, I was worried that maybe..."

"Shhh, shhh, it's ok. Mobilization has indeed begun, but my legion is on standby. We probably won't even be called upon. The consensus is that what is happening will be quick and decisive, and you know? I actually believe it this time."

"Do they know?"

"Of course not! No one can ever know, you know that. I'll be back before dawn breaks. No one will be the wiser."

He gave a mischievous grin. The same one that always made her heart melt as his lips revealed sparkling canines and dazzling eyes. Just like the first time they had met, she knew not how, but knew he'd be the one. The grin told her so.

"Well, what is the latest from your side of things?" he inquired with a sincere look of interest.

"How is your family holding up?"

She flitted her tail nervously. "They are well. They are constantly warning me about my outings. They tell me that I don't need to endanger myself, that the meager rations we get are enough. They know that is a lie, but are only concerned for my safety. We'd all be completely starved if we lived on the rations alone. They think the supplies you bring me are the fruits of me foraging in the quarantine. They are grateful, but still fret over how dangerous it is for me to do so. Too bad I can't put their minds at ease and tell them how I really acquire the rations and supplies I bring back. A small sacrifice of angst I suppose."

"Well, they can go on believing that little white lie and the world will still turn. Here." He began unfastening his musette bag that he had set before him. The canvas was soaked through, but the oil cloth had kept the contents dry. Three cans of beans, a small slab of pork fat, half of a tube of bactine, and a foiled pack of hard bread.

"It isn't much, I'll try to bring more next time. The new logistics clerk at the warehouse is cracking down on inventory and beginning to crunch numbers. I'll have to be more careful, but I can still make it happen." There was that grin again as he settled back from his haunches to sitting against the wall, his tail curling around to his lap.

"Don't get caught," she urged. "You know what the penalty for stealing is, especially in a time of war. If I have to, I will resort to foraging again to make ends meet. I am no stranger to it you know." She shifted uneasily where she sat next to him. "Just..." Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes as she quickly cast off the thought. "Be careful."

"I always am darling. And nonsense. You don't need to go back to foraging. Perish the thought. You have enough to deal with at home than to have to worry about that too. I will take care of you. I will always take care of you." He kissed her cheek and drew her to his chest. She was warm, and though he tried to hide that he was freezing, he cherished the warmth betwixt them as he held her in his arms.

"You shiver" she whispered into his shoulder.

Ah, she noticed anyways. "Well, I do have some matches in here. Let's start a fire, shall we?"

She cleared a patch on the dirt floor for a small flame to be built. Though they both could see well enough in the dark, the fire would be another comfort.

The wind outside still howled. She awoke but did not stir. Instead, she looked at his face, the fluffy tufts of his cheeks faintly streaked with brown at the edges. The light of the dying fire caught in the tips of tiny hairs contrasting with the dark walls, and danced in each polished brass button on his tunic. He was peaceful whilst slumbering, but she had to wake him, for it would be dawn soon. His eyes flashed a fantastic green as he fixed them on her upon her gentle nudging and a kiss on the snout.

"It is time my prince. You must get back before anyone realizes your absence."

"Always too soon" he whispered as he gave her a playful lick. She kissed him and got him to his feet. What a sweet kiss she thought. Always too short.

"Until we meet again, just like we discussed?" she asked, hugging his neck tightly.

"Of course." She released her embrace as he shouldered his pack and started toward the wickedness beyond the cave.

"I love you Corlieu."

"I love you too, Anna." And with that mischievous grin, he vanished into the wild beyond.

The spring rains continued to greet the mostly pock marked and splintered countryside unannounced. That was the only real clue as to what the current season was. She had not seen Corlieu since their last stormy night together in the forest cavern. His legion had indeed been mobilized a few days later. That was all she knew. His whereabouts were not known to her. Besides, asking too many questions or even showing any interest of their sworn foe outside of absolute hatred would surely raise eyebrows, or worse. The supplies had begun to finally run low a couple weeks ago and she had to resort to actual foraging to sustain her family, to keep the lie going. She could always turn to the black market, but it was rumored to have undercover agents working within. Dealings in the black market carried the same consequences as being caught stealing and she could not put her family at risk like that. At least going behind the lines she was better able to avoid getting caught. That is what was easier to believe anyways. Her nation had not governed itself in almost three years. Ever since the invasion, a new order had been established by their conquerors and their own ruling bodies swiftly done away with. Any sense of culture had been stamped out beneath the boot heel of the sweeping legions that now watched every move of every citizen. The hatred between the two clans, or nations as the new political term was, had existed since the dawn of creation. As a young pup, she had asked about the Convidinites and was scorned and outright punished for even suggesting that there may be good in them. She only made that mistake once. She had the scar to prove it. Secretly she rejected all that had been taught to her. She could not bring herself to believe it. It tormented her to think that she was the only one with these thoughts. She always felt guilty, like a turncoat of sorts for harboring these feelings.

When she met Corlieu at the stream in the woods while gathering water, and he doing the same, she knew she was right. He had smiled at her, looked around, and when sure all was clear, helped her fill her jugs. He made small talk, as did she. It seemed so natural, yet outrageous to think back on it now. Neither of them had shown any hint of fear, nor felt it. Fur did not bristle, teeth did not bare, save for his wolfish grin. It was an unspoken peace, magical, like it was meant to be. It was from then on that they continued to meet in secrecy. Each encounter pulled them closer to one another, a closeness that knew not a limit and was unbreakable, no matter how unmentionable. They shared ideas, debated on topics just as taboo as themselves, and shared emotions and themselves with each other. That last night together was supposed to be their last together until forever. The plan did not come to pass as the political tensions shifted his duties elsewhere, away from her, before they could follow through. It had only been one moon cycle since they last saw each other, but it seemed much, much longer.

Under cover of darkness, she picked through what had been left behind around the burn pits by the recently departed legion. She had to be cautious. She could see clearly at night, but so could the oppressors. A half-eaten tin of meat had escaped the flames and she hurriedly stuffed it into her sack. She found a fork, bent, but still functional. That would be a nice surprise for her father. Long ago, almost anything metal had been confiscated from homes for the involuntary scrap drives. It was painful to think that all the antique wares that had been passed down her family for generations had been unceremoniously collected to be turned into munitions at a factory. She snuck around back and into the house cellar. Tonight had been a good night for foraging, but not good enough to keep her away from having to do the same the next night.

Anna walked to the stream, just as she always had to gather water. Past the desecrated church, through the thicket now moon-scaped from artillery, and onto the road that led into the woods that paralleled the stream. At least the stream ran towards the killing fields and not vice versa so as to leave the water remaining clear and untainted. This thought amused her and she smiled at having found a bit of irony in what was now her world. Something was different today though. Quiet. Stillness. There was the ever present rumble of murder in the distance, but here, right here, it was quieter than usual. No birds sang. Wind didn't even rustle the grass. Then she saw it. On the side of the road opposite the stream, down the ravine a part and tucked between a stand of trees was an over turned truck. The Convidinite legion symbol was stenciled on the door and the canvas roof covering the back had been crushed and was in tatters, while the front wheels pointed in a precarious manner, obviously broken at their pivoting points. She glanced around, saw no one. No guards or troops, nothing. She scurried down the slope to the truck as quickly as her unsteady footing would allow. The truck was vacant as well. Oh but she could not believe her eyes! A dozen wooden crates had smashed open when the truck had met its demise, and at least twice as many were still heaped in the bed and tangled canvas covering. Food! It had been a supply truck carrying rations to the front lines! She was so overcome with excitement all at once she could hardly contain herself. She hadn't brought anything suitable for carrying anything other than water. It would be dark within an hour. The wreck seemed fresh and she knew that it would only be a matter of time before someone else would find it and pick it clean or the legion would secure the area until it had been recovered. She could only hope it would remain untouched until nightfall.

A light mist had settled over the area after darkness fell, and the sweet smell of the woods, what was left of them, tickled her nose. She had taken an indirect route this time to the wrecked truck. Caution was never something to take lightly, especially in this day and age. She had worked her way around so as to be facing the front of the truck and looking up towards the road. The ridge that the road sat upon was a black silhouette against the twilight with the broken and mangled trees beyond it protruding like fingers cloying at the heavens. This is the very reason she had not chosen to approach from her usual path. If anybody had already arrived at the wreck site, she would have been easily spotted. She hoped the same vantage would play in her favor as she pillaged. From behind a small stand of brush, she peered out at the stricken vehicle. No one in sight. She had lucked out. She emerged cautiously forward, a satchel slung on her shoulder and a large old knapsack strapped to her back. It would be one thing to be caught outside after curfew, but another thing entirely to be caught with these particular items. Her intents would be all too obvious.

The mangled metal was cold to the touch and grit flaked away as she brushed her paw over the dried mud. She peered into the back through a tear in the canvas and vaguely made out the forms of the heaped crates jumbled inside. She stopped suddenly, ears pricked, as a can skittered across the ground. She had accidentally kicked it, and her fur relaxed after realizing that her own clumsiness had caused the disturbance.

"Not a good time to be foolish," she thought to herself, though this whole errand was foolhardy for sure. She knelt down and began collecting the few cans that lay strewn on the ground. She glanced at one before she stuffed it into her satchel. Cubed lamb. How wonderful! It had been ages since she or anyone else had had real meat, or any quantity to speak of. She quickly, but quietly began stuffing cans into her satchel, and soon it was full. She laid it beside the rear wheels, half sunken into the ground, and un-shouldered the knapsack. From it she produced an old piece of flat iron she had found among some ruins en-route to the wreck site. She placed the knapsack in the bed of the truck, glanced around quickly, then pushed aside some torn canvas and climbed inside. There wasn't a lot of room, what with the collapsed covering and the crates heaped to one side. She hefted the closest crate to her so that she could get at the wooden lid that was nailed down like a coffin. She jabbed the piece of iron between the lid and the box, and when she was sure she had a good bite, forced down on the make-shift pry bar. The lid gave way with a sharp crack and the squeaky protest of nails being wrenched loose. She pawed inside and found cans here too. She began placing them in the knapsack, not seeing what contents the labels proclaimed they contained, nor really caring, for it would surely be something that would be of use. The cans made a dull clatter as their numbers increased in the sack. She shifted the bag as she moved on to a second crate, already alarmingly heavy. This crate had already been partially broken open from the jostling it had endured and took little persuasion for it to surrender its contents. She licked her paw which had touched something wet from a burst can within. Venison stew, tasty. She began extracting the containers and placed them in the sack with the others. She closed the bulging pack when she was sure it could hold no more. She could not lift the sack with her arms alone, but figured if she could squat and shoulder the straps, she could, with a bit of effort, use her legs to lift it and carry it on her back. Being too confined to do so here, she dragged her burden out of the back of the truck, having to tug at it as it caught on splintered wood. One last thing then she could be away. She left the knapsack at the back of the truck and crept around to the cab. There should be a medical kit somewhere inside, and that would be invaluable if she could find it. Rather than wrestle the one exposed door that now faced toward the night sky, she opted to utilize the broken windshield to gain access instead. Being wary of the glass shards protruding from the frame and scattered everywhere, she pulled herself over the dashboard and steering wheel and lowered herself onto the driver's side door that was now flush with the ground. Now, it could only be so many places in such a confined space.

"Corporal Raston, take point," the non-commissioned officer directed as his small band of troops dismounted their truck to begin their patrol. Corporal Corlieu Raston did as directed and took the lead as the six others took up a staggered formation behind him and proceeded down the raised road flanked on both sides by sad looking splinters of trees. "Somewhere up ahead to our right is where the vehicle should be according to the accident report," the noncom said addressing the small squad and reminding them to keep their eyes open.

"Once we have secured the area, Trummel, you will be my runner to go back and send the recovery vehicles forward."

"Yes sergeant," the soldier replied, ears twitching and flattening against his head. He couldn't be any older than eighteen, maybe nineteen at the most. Though it was rather routine, patrols like this, it was obvious he was a bit uneasy, having just arrived to this particular legion only days before, not yet tested in combat and still wet behind the ears. He was just a pup. That's what the Cause demanded. Youth was no exception when your nation called upon you to serve.

After a short march, the squad halted atop the road.

"Ok, there it is. Form a perimeter around the truck. Corporal Raston and I will cover you and search the vehicle once you have secured the area. You three, proceed to the left of the truck, you two, the right. Move out." The noncom and Corporal Raston remained on the road as the five soldiers began down the gravelly grade to their respective areas around the wreckage. They both looked on, eyes and ears attuned to anything in the misty still night that might alert their senses. Suddenly, a shadow darted forth from the front of the truck, making for the nearby tree-line beyond. Unseen by the approaching troops, but clearly visible from their vantage point atop the road. The noncom simply pointed, and just as he was trained to do, the corporal raised his rifle and fired. The shadow immediately crumpled at the edge of the brush, the painful shriek mixed with the lingering deafening report of the rifle for only a split second, then all was quiet again, except for the incessant chirping of crickets.

"Secure the area, now!" the noncom barked at the startled troops as he and Corporal Raston rushed down the ravine to join them. The five soldiers dutifully formed a circle around the truck, facing outwards, and alert for anything else that might try to move within their sight. Corporal Raston and the NCO reached the perpetrator, who was gasping shallowly for air and clutching a first aid tin to her chest. Corporal Raston knelt beside the she-wolf and rolled her towards him so that he may look upon her face.

"Corlieu?" she gasped with great effort as she met his gaze with soft blue eyes, now filled with so much pain, and then shifted to confusion. One more draw of breath and those gorgeous eyes rolled back and she lay still, life finally drained from her body.

"Good job corporal. You have always been one of my best marksmen. She probably would have gotten away if it had been anyone else taking aim from that distance."

Tears blotted out his vision and his throat constricted as his superior patted his shoulder proudly.