They collected the remains of the meal, including the chewed mutton hide, and tossed it into Lucien’s sack. It was clear, at least to Ollie, that Lucien had no plans of leaving any trace of their travel.

They climbed for an hour. To Ollie, the incline seemed to grow steeper with each step. His thigh muscles burned. His foot throbbed. Despite the pain, he pushed on. Step by step, he forced himself upward. As the rain slowed and the fog began to dissipate, Ollie was relieved to see Lucien stop to rest prior to scaling a steep trek.

Boar, ahead of Ollie, stopped to catch his breath.

Lucien looked down at Ollie, then raised a hand.

Ollie rubbed his legs and looked up. He noticed what he thought was a sense of peace in Lucien, free from the burden of hiding his war wounds. The squint of the man’s eyes gave the illusion of a victory smile, despite the fact that he had no jaw. Ollie inhaled. He nodded and raised his arm to Lucien.

A loud crack exploded.

Ollie flinched.

Lucien clasped his chest. Blood spurted through his fingers.

Ollie climbed toward Lucien, but another gunshot forced him to the ground. The discharge echoed through the valley.

Boar, already on his back, ripped open his coat and pulled out his pistol.

Lucien collapsed.

A bullet ricocheted near Ollie’s face, sending limestone shrapnel into his cheek. He scrambled to Lucien.

Boar fired two shots into the valley.

Ollie dragged Lucien, his body limp, down the embankment. As he placed him behind a large boulder, he saw a Wehrmacht patrol, perhaps six or seven soldiers, less than a hundred yards below. He pulled the Nazi’s pistol from his pocket, stood, and pulled the trigger, only to find the safety was on. A bullet whizzed by his ear. His pulse pounded. He flipped the safety, fired, and missed.

Boar rushed down the embankment, bringing with him chunks of rock. He fired a shot. Then another. A bullet shattered his kneecap. He howled as his right leg buckled.

A German soldier scaled the slope forty yards below. Ollie aimed and fired. The soldier’s back arched, then fell. German helmets turned as their comrade tumbled down the embankment.

Ollie raced to Boar. As he dragged him by the coat, a bullet pierced the lieutenant’s thigh.

Boar yowled.

They fell behind the boulder. Ollie fired shots, sending the patrol for cover. He rolled Lucien over, already knowing there was nothing he could do. His pupils were dilated. A hole, the size of a plum, had opened his sternum.

“Bastards,” Boar grunted. He gripped Lucien’s cloak.

Ollie noticed blood spilling from Boar’s knee.

“How many?” Boar gasped.

Ollie peeked around the boulder. Shots skipped over stone. He snapped back. “Six or seven.”

Boar, his fingers covered in blood, checked the bullets in his weapon. He pulled another clip from his belt.