"As tensions rise among Eastern nations in Europe, border skirmishes have become the daily norm. Centuries old grievances along with more recent problems are bringing the entire region to the brink of war.

While NATO is taking a 'wait and see' attitude at the moment, they have not ruled out the possibility of a large scale mobilisation of forces in an attempt to protect allies' borders and to broker peace between the aggrieved nations.

Many former military chiefs and current military analysts believe that all negotiations will prove fruitless, however, as belligerent nations head closer to all-out conflict."

-+-

2

She had never seen a storm like it. Only moments before, the sky had appeared overcast, but mild. Now, thick black clouds coated the skies, roiling and pulsing like living things in the throes of death. Lightning raked the landscape, but that would not stop Runa from finding her children. If she did nothing else of worth in her life, she would do that and bring them home safe.

The rain stung her face, carried at great speeds by screaming, howling winds that threatened to lift her from her feet and send her flying through the air. Thankful she had not removed her heavy boots, Runa dipped her head and continued to forge her way towards the beach. It felt like every clutching gust of wind fought against her, pushing her two steps backward for every step forward she made.

Her coat, wrapped around her in haste, suffered the worst of the wind. Ends flapping against her legs, the back ballooning outwards as the winds found their way through and into the tiniest of spaces. She held the lapel over her nose and mouth, protecting her face and aiding her in catching her breath. Each time she had tried to breathe without that cover, it felt like all the air in the world had become ripped away from her, as though the air itself did not wish her to breathe.

But she would not allow the fickle turns of the air to stop her from her goal. Nothing on Earth or in the Heavens would keep her from her children and pity the man, beast or element that tried. One step in front of the other, leaning forward, forging her way onward, Runa would find them. She had to. She could not survive another loss.

Even as she caught sight of the little dock, her mind, unbidden, returned to those days early in the pandemic, where her husband, strong and active, had succumbed to the virus before the vaccines had come available. She remembered him wasting away, day by day. Remembered how he fought to breathe, then only survived through the intense ministrations of the hospital staff, upon a ventilator, struggling to bring life-giving oxygen to his body. And then ...

She couldn't tell if her face had become slick with tears or that the driving rain had plastered her face with water. Either. Both. It didn't matter. She had no time to resurrect her mourning for her husband. No time to think back upon what might have been had they resorted to masks earlier. Or had moved to this desolate land before the virus had marched, inexorably, across the face of the planet.

"Hertha! Stigr!" The words became grasped and ripped away by the wind. Torn from her lips before she had even finished screaming into the darkness of the storm. "Can you hear me? Hertha! Stigr!"

The only sound that answered her came from the swirling wind itself. A howl, deep and pain-filled, as though the greatest beast that had ever set foot upon the Earth screamed in pain. Lightning accompanied and echoed that howl, smashing into the ground not thirty feet from where she stood, but even the threat of electrical death from above could not turn her back to the safety of the house.

Somehow, it seemed as though she had made no progress at all. The beach and the little dock still appeared far too distant for how long she had fought against the wind. She could see great, black waves crashing across the old, wooden dock, the thick piles hammered deep into the ground shaking and vibrating from the sheer fury of nature unleashed upon this small island, but the dock held. It did not fail and neither would Runa.

The ground shook once again. An aftershock from the earthquake that had tossed her and her home around. She had never experienced an earthquake before and never expected one so strong. She knew they were rare in the British Isles. Rare and weak in comparison to other areas of the world, but it felt as though the foundations of the Earth had shuddered all at once.

This aftershock had almost the same strength as the first, causing her booted feet to stumble upon the gravel that led to the dock. Gravel that had turned to sand and pebbles. After such a long time, she had reached the edge of the beach. Now, she only had to follow the beach until she found the cave where she had foolishly allowed her children to explore. She could hate herself for that later.

"Stigr! It's mum! Shout if you can hear me!" Even above the screeching wind, the crashing of waves upon the shore, Runa could still hear the pebbles crunch beneath her feet, but she could not hear a reply. "Hertha! Stay where you are, just shout so I can find you!"

Her attempts to call to her children left her breathless. She coughed and opened her mouth wide behind the edge of her coat across her face, trying to drag air into her lungs. As her husband had tried. On that final night, the children left with Runa's mother, she had sat beside him, the ventilator forcing air into his body.

He had fallen into a coma hours before and the nurses held little hope for recovery, but they tried anyway. They tried so hard and for so long to save his life. Exhausted beyond any reasonable level, they still fought for him, as Runa prayed for him. As she held his unfeeling hand, trying to pass the essence of her own life into him through that touch. All for nothing, in the end.

That final, elongated beep from the monitors seemed to go on forever and all the rushing, all the intensity and struggle fell from the room. They had done all they could. A soft hand fell upon her shoulder, but she did not look up to the face of the angel that had worked tirelessly to save her husband. She had eyes only for him. Only ever for him. They allowed her to sit there for far longer than they should. Another virus victim needed that room and its ventilator now.

The wave smashed into her, knocking her from her feet, her head cracking against the pebbles of the beach and she became disoriented. Another wave crashed against her, pushing her further up the sand and pebbles, rolling her along. She sputtered, scrambling to her feet once more. The howl of the wind had become piercing, now. A great, distended howl that held the weight of millennia in the undulating tones. Like a wolf calling in pain to its pack.

She could hardly see inches before her face, something red tinted her view, hanging in droplets from her eyelashes and her hand, reaching up, came back with blood upon the tips of her fingers. She had cracked open her head from the fall. Not even that could stop her. The freezing rain soothed the pain, somewhat, but not the ache in her heart. Her children meant everything to her. More than her own pain, more than the ache in her chest from her exertions.

If anything, the storm appeared to have grown stronger. The rain felt like knives slashing at her exposed skin, her hair whipped about her face and she felt buffeted and tossed around like the toy of a dog that had turned from playful to violent. The howling thundered against her ears, lightning flashed and forked from the sky and, with each eye-stinging flash, another howl erupted all around.

Another flash of lightning landed above her, on the rocky outcrops atop the steep cliffs of the beach, sending rocks and sods of earth raining down around her and she huddled in a ball, hoping that she could survive this. Survive this to protect her children. Protect them in a way she had failed to do for her husband.

A rock smashed onto her back and she fell face first onto the smooth pebbles and coarse sand of the beach, tasting the saltiness of the ocean water on her lips, mixed with the metallic tinge of her own blood. Even as dark as it was from the raging storm, she could feel everything darken even more and she almost screamed in defiance at her own body betraying her. Screamed out into the storm as she felt consciousness begin to flitter away.

Like it had at the funeral. She had stayed strong, she hoped. Given the children something to cling to, to gain strength from. But, as she had stood there in the chapel, Hertha holding one hand, Stigr the other. Alone, but for the priest sermonising to empty pews, she had felt her head begin to spin. Bile collect in her throat. The virus had held even her husband's friends and family from the funeral. Unable to breach the lockdown conditions to say proper farewells to a good man. A kind man.

She had awoken, then, to the sight of Hertha and Stigr kneeling beside her, concern etched upon their faces for the only parent they had left. She had failed them as a mother, as she had failed her husband as a wife. Failure compounded by failure. And now, here, she was failing them again. A pitiful excuse for a mother. A pitiful excuse for a wife.

At first, she thought the light that intruded upon her feint were another burst of lightning. That the silence that now washed upon her was the infinite blackness of unconsciousness. She no longer felt the wind groping and grasping at her. No longer felt the waves crashing against her and no longer heard that mournful howling. A yawning, deep silence promised a peace that would be hers were she to only reach out and grasp it.

"Steady now, girl!" The only thing she grasped was a large, rough hand that did not try to haul her upright. "The worst is done, lassie. For now. The worst is done."

Her eyes flickered open to find a kind, old face peering down upon her, whiskers bordering ruddy cheeks. Warm, green eyes searched her own and a hand held aloft a large electric lantern, the light almost soothing in a warm, white glow. She scrambled at his hand, trying to pull herself to her feet. The storm may have subsided, but she still had not found her children.

"Mummy! Mummy!" A tiny voice. A young voice that almost made Runa collapse in joy. "Are you alright? Herty and me were saved by a dog. A big dog!"

Tears did fall down Runa's cheeks, now, as both Hertha and Stigr ran to her, falling into her arms.