Feliciano walked to the market every afternoon. It was his favourite time of the day. His Grandpa always told him to walk straight, look at the ground, don't dawdle, speak to no one, hurry back. But Feliciano enjoyed his afternoon walk. He loved to walk through the fields and pick flowers. He loved to chat with the villagers and give the flowers to pretty girls. He loved to run down the dusty country roads, racing the local children. And when the day was done he loved nothing more than to sit under his favourite oak tree, a few fields over from his house, and just watch the clouds float past in the orange sky. It was as he was nearing the tree, basket in hand and headed to the market, that he noticed the outline of a German soldier walking slowly in the distance. His stomach twisted in knots and he held tight to his white flag, but as he approached closer he recognised the soldier as the one who had helped him in the street the day before. His stomach suddenly twisted for an entirely different reason.

"Buon pomeriggio, German!"

The German looked over at Feliciano and raised his eyebrows. He tilted his head slightly in recognition. "Buon pomeriggio, Italian."

Feliciano felt a little jump in his chest. He knew he should not be greeting German soldiers, but he couldn't help but feel that this German was a kind man. He must be - Feliciano did not feel afraid of him like he did all the others. "What brings you to this beautiful part of Italy? Well, not the country as a whole, I know what brings you here. So I suppose I mean, what brings you to this field? I've never seen a German soldier so far outside of town before."

The German took a moment to respond. "I had the sudden urge to take a walk."

Feliciano nodded in understanding. "That happens to me too sometimes. Did you eat too much pasta?"

The German blinked a few times and furrowed his brow. "No."

"See, I usually go for a walk after a really big meal. Then I fall asleep under this big oak tree here. And then Lovino wakes me up and gets mad at me. Lovino is my big brother. Do you have a big brother?"

The German looked like he was having trouble following the conversation, though Feliciano couldn't see why - he seemed to speak English perfectly. "Yes, I do."

"What is your big brother's name?"

"Gilbert."

"What is your name?"

"Ludwig. I mean, Lieutenant Beilschmidt."

"Pleased to meet you Ludwig, my name is Feliciano. Feliciano Vargas. Thank you again for stopping that angry man from hitting me yesterday. I'm going to the market to see if there are tomatoes for sale, would you like to walk with me?"

"...Yes," said Ludwig slowly, although he didn't look like he was sure. "I am just heading back that way now." Feliciano felt a happy warmth settle in his stomach as Ludwig fell into step beside him and they walked slowly together through the field. Feliciano had to stifle a laugh in thinking about what Grandpa Roma and Lovino would have to say about this... walking to the village with a German soldier! They walked in silence for a few moments as Feliciano took the time to study the German properly. Ludwig's grey uniform was slightly different to the ones Feliciano was used to seeing, but he recognised it immediately as an officer's. His eyes strayed to the line of decorations on Ludwig's chest, then further, and he could not help noticing that the muscles in Ludwig's arms bulged against the fabric. Feliciano bit his lip and he had to tell himself to look away, feeling a little confused. He quickly shook the feeling away. He breathed the fresh air deeply and swung his empty basket happily, surprised at how comfortable it felt just walking beside this German. He already felt disappointed that once they reached the village he would probably never see Ludwig again. But that was only to be expected.

Ludwig did not seem the talkative type, but Feliciano didn't mind carrying the conversation. He was enjoying the chance to speak in English. "Oh look! The lavender is still blooming! That means it's going to be a short winter, do you know, which is good, because winter is cold and I don't like the cold, or the snow, or the rain really, unless it just happens sometimes and I am inside by the fire. What is the winter like in Germany? Does it rain a lot? I hear that in England, it rains nearly all year 'round. Can you imagine! You would never be able to go outside! I think I would be so bored, don't you? Ludwig, what is the German word for rain?" Feliciano looked up to find Ludwig staring down at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Feliciano smiled and Ludwig quickly looked down at his feet.

"It is Regen." When Ludwig spoke his voice was deep and accented.

"Regen," repeated Feliciano. The word felt strong in his mouth. "In Italian it is pioggia. Do you know, I would like to learn German one day." Something clicked in his mind and his chest flipped. He'd just stumbled on the perfect way to see Ludwig again. "Oh, Ludwig, I have a brilliant idea! You can teach me German and I will teach you Italian! What do you think of that?"

"I..." Ludwig looked at a loss again. Feliciano got the sense that he was not used to the feeling. "I do not even know you."

"Of course you do, we're talking, aren't we? Doesn't that make us friends?"

"Friends..." Ludwig seemed to trip over the word. He shook his head. "You are a very strange man. Why do you suddenly think we are friends? I am a stranger in your country."

Feliciano laughed. "Stranger? You're not a stranger, Ludwig, we've met now! And you seem like a very nice person, after all, you did help me when you didn't have to and you're going to teach me German and you have kind eyes. Are you stationed nearby?"

Ludwig was slow to answer. "Yes, but I can not tell you where."

Feliciano smiled. He'd expected as much. Ludwig was obviously not stupid enough to give away such information to someone he had just met. "That is fine. You can't be too far away though, and that means we can see each other every day, yes? And you can teach me German, and I can teach you Italian, and I am sure that we will become very good friends. You can find me by the big oak tree most days. If I'm asleep, though, make sure you wake me slowly, because I can get very cranky when I'm woken up, but that doesn't stop Lovino from doing it all the time. Big brothers can be very annoying, can't they."

Ludwig made a noise which was almost a laugh. "Yes, I agree with you about that," he said as they walked out of the field and onto the dirt road which led to the village.

Feliciano clutched his basket, feeling deliriously happy with every small thing he learnt about Ludwig. Feliciano was practically an expert at acquiring information before the informant even realised they had given it. He sometimes used the skill for the cause of the Resistance; but it was much nicer to find things out just because he was interested. "Is your brother a soldier like you?"

Ludwig spoke concisely and firmly. "My brother is at the Russian front, and he is a soldier. I, however, am not."

Feliciano looked up at Ludwig quizzically. "Not a soldier?"

"No," said Ludwig, his lips turning up slightly, "I am a pilot."

Feliciano's eyes widened. "A pilot? I've never met a pilot before. Do you deliver supplies, that sort of thing?"

"No. I am a fighter pilot."

Feliciano tried not to make an embarrassing noise of excitement. A fighter pilot... it sounded like something out of an adventure novel. Something completely different to everything he knew. Something new. "That's amazing! Is it difficult? Is it scary? Do you have to wear those funny hats? Have you fought against the English?" Feliciano immediately regretted the last question.

Ludwig took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, still staring straight ahead. "To me, it is not difficult. It is not scary. We wear the required headgear. And yes, I fight the English. Every day."

"Every day?" It seemed inconceivable.

"Of course. After our failure in the Luftschlacht um England..." Ludwig did not finish the sentence. "I just wish to do the best I can for my country."

Feliciano quickly realised he did not want to stay on this subject. He immediately changed it. As they continued walking and talking, Feliciano was surprised by just how much they actually had in common. Ludwig also had an older brother and had been raised by their grandfather, who had taught him English as a child. He liked animals as well, but he preferred dogs while Feliciano had always loved cats. He was also from a small village and loved the countryside. Feliciano discovered that they both loved soccer and Ludwig had even played it at near national level before the war. And when he didn't think Feliciano was looking Ludwig would almost smile and Feliciano could feel his heart skip a beat. In all the afternoons of all the years that Feliciano had spent walking to the market, this was the best.

They walked slowly but eventually they reached the village and headed down its narrow paved streets towards the market. Stone and wooden buildings closed in on all sides, throwing shadows onto the cobblestones. After a few moments of silence Feliciano looked over at Ludwig to find that he was studying him intently. He felt himself turn red. "What is it?"

"How old are you?" asked Ludwig curiously.

"Nineteen, why?"

"Are you healthy?"

Feliciano paused for a moment. What a strange question. "I think so. The other day I got a splinter in my finger while I was helping Grandpa with the firewood and Lovino got it out with a needle and then he said that sometimes people get sick and die from tiny things like splinters but I feel fine so far... have you ever heard of anyone dying from a splinter?"

"Er..."

"Oh, and I had a fever last summer - it didn't last long though, but other than that yes I am quite healthy thank you." Feliciano waited for Ludwig to continue, but he didn't. He searched for the polite thing to say. "And you... are you healthy?" It was a strange topic of conversation, but who knew what they talked about in Germany.

"What? Yes, I..." Ludwig paused, then shook his head briskly. "Nein! What I mean is... if you are of the right age and healthy, why aren't you in the army?"

"Oh." Feliciano shrugged. "I don't want to fight."

"But your country is at war!" Ludwig's voice was louder and firmer than Feliciano had yet heard it, but he just shrugged again.

"Their war, not mine. I don't want to hurt anybody. What did the English ever do to me? English people seem really nice. They wear suits and drink tea and know lots about poetry. I don't want to kill people like that. We shouldn't kill people who know lots about poetry."

"It is the duty of all young men to fight for their country in wartime." Ludwig said it like he was reciting a script.

"Is that why you do it? Because it is your duty?" Feliciano was genuinely curious.

At this Ludwig paused. He took a few deep breaths, like he was thinking. He finally replied, "I love my country."

"What if your country is fighting for the wrong reasons. Did you ever think of that?"

A spasm of pain seemed to pass over Ludwig's face. He blinked it away. "It is not my place to question what my country fights for."

"Yes it is."

Ludwig looked stunned. By now they had reached the market, emerging from the narrow overshadowed streets into the wide open town square. The villagers drew away from them with suspicious and worried looks at the German officer. Feliciano ignored them and headed straight for the stalls where he could see rows of bright vegetables.

"Oh look Ludwig, they have tomatoes after all... Lovino will be so happy!"

When the stall owner glared at them, somehow looking both angry and terrified, Ludwig discreetly touched Feliciano's elbow and said softly, "I will take my leave now."

"Oh," said Feliciano, feeling disappointed. "All right then. But, you will meet me tomorrow afternoon by the oak tree, won't you? For our language lesson?"

"Yes." Feliciano was surprised by how fast Ludwig responded. "Yes, I will."

"Oh good! Ciao!" Feliciano immediately reached out to stop Ludwig as he turned to leave. "Wait, Ludwig, how do you say 'goodbye' in German?"

Ludwig paused, turned, and looked down at Feliciano. "Auf wiedersehen, Feliciano." Then he strode off through the surrounding crowd, who parted nervously as he passed. Feliciano waved a goodbye before turning back to the stall owner. The man regarded him suspiciously, though Feliciano was fairly sure he couldn't have understood their words in English.

"What are you doing chatting with a German, kid?"

Feliciano shrugged. "Nothing."

The stall owner's eyes widened in recognition when he saw Feliciano's face and he nodded, laughing loudly. "Ah, you're Roma's grandson, aren't you? Of course! What are you planning with that one?" He nodded after Ludwig.

Unfamiliar anger and annoyance filled Feliciano's gut, but he just smiled. "Ssh, quietly."

"Oh yes, yes, top secret and all that, I understand. Here, was it tomatoes you were after? There aren't many, I'm afraid."

After acquiring the tomatoes, some more flour, and even a few oranges, Feliciano left the market, but instead of heading out of the village he took a turn into a narrow side street. The entrance to the lane was barely noticeable from the outside. He headed down the cobblestones until he reached a wooden, battered door, one with a crooked sign hanging overhead that read 'Cantina Verde'.

Walking through the door, it could have been any cantina in Italy. Tables and chairs sat in a common arrangement, a bar ran the length of the back wall, and a few waiters wandered through the room. Feliciano bounced happily through the room and waved at the staff. They barely acknowledged him, something he was used to by now. Secrecy was the order of the day here. Through the back door, behind the kitchen, was another room, one which held some of the most secretive and dangerous meetings in the country. The resistance often gathered in this cantina to discuss matters and plan attacks. And there was a meeting today. The room looked up as Feliciano pushed through the back door. He smiled and again waved happily, but the partisans in attendance were as unresponsive as the waiters out front. Feliciano shrugged to himself and walked into the room. It was just as large as the front area, covered with tables and chairs and looking like a simple function area. There was no evidence to suggest the real purpose of the place.

Grandpa Roma stood at a central table and spoke evenly but emphatically to the assembled crowd. "The military presence in the village is increasing and we need to be extra vigilant. I know you have all been careful but at this time more than ever..." Feliciano quickly lost interest, barely hearing the words go over his head. It was a small gathering today, much smaller than the crowd who had gathered for the celebration the night before. The atmosphere could not be more different, everyone on edge and paying complete attention to Roma's every word. Lovino sat on a table, clutching a pistol between his hands and nodding at everything Grandpa Roma said. Feliciano rolled his eyes and wondered if the pistol was even loaded. Lovino really did get carried away sometimes.

Feliciano stood watching Roma for a few minutes more, trying to listen but unable to regain concentration. It all sounded the same to him by now. So he walked to the back of the room and turned on the small wireless radio that sat at the back table. Lovino turned and looked over at him disapprovingly, but when Feliciano raised the basket of tomatoes for him to see his mouth twitched in a tiny smile. Roma glanced over and also smiled at him, so Feliciano took it as approval to sit listening to the radio. He tuned it until he found music and leant against the wall, humming the tunes he recognised. He hoped he would not have too long to wait until Grandpa Roma and Lovino were ready to go home. Eventually a song came through the speakers, an English one that Feliciano had heard a few times but never really listened to. But this time the first word caught his attention and he listened intently.

Auf wiedersehen, auf wiedersehen...

Feliciano smiled. It really was a lovely tune, and he wasn't sure whether it made him happy or sad. Either way, it reminded him of Ludwig. Ludwig, who was so big and looked so imposing, but seemed somehow unsure and even shy. Ludwig who flew planes and played soccer and had three dogs and a brother he worried about. Ludwig who Feliciano had just met yet felt like he had known forever. Ludwig who was part of the German military occupying Italy and part of everything that Feliciano was supposed to hate and fight against. Feliciano looked over to where Grandpa Roma was leaning over a table, outlining a map of the surrounding countryside and speaking forcefully as the partisans looked on. Feliciano sighed to himself, and wondered why his eyesight was suddenly blurred.