Axel's P.O.V-

Axel's eyes blinked opened as he let out a long yawn and groggily sat up, reaching him arms out to stretch. He looked around and was disappointed it was still dark outside as he lit another candle, wondering what time it was. He leaned down and adjusted his splint and then stood up, limping over to the window in the room and moving the curtains aside. It was almost dawn, so he didn't bother trying to sleep in more. He could see the sky in the distance, this room didn't face the ocean so he saw sunlight in the far horizon as it climbed back into the sky.

He yawned again, looking around the room for a moment. He grabbed the button up shirt Freya had given him and he slid it over his bare skin, buttoning it up and then looking at the pants. He hated pants and the ones Freya had given him were too long. He limped over to the dresser nearby, opening a few drawers until he found a pair of simple, plain knee length shorts. Those would work. Once those were on, they fit well too, Axel walked over to a mirror leaned against the wall across from the bed. He stood in front of it, judging the person in the mirror before him.

He looked older, more tired as he stood there. His thin but lean build was leaned to the right to keep pressure off his broken left. But he didn't look like a mess, so he shrugged and moved his gaze up to his head. His bandage caused some of his hair to stick up and it looked a little bit funny. He grinned, reaching up to the bandage and unwrapping it carefully, then holding it in his hands. Blood had soaked the small piece of square cloth Freya had attached to the bandage. The bleeding had thankfully stopped now and he set the bandage down on the table, grabbing the candle and setting it on the ground next to the mirror so he could see what the wound looked like.

It wasn't too deep into his skin, but it had been deep enough to cause enough blood to soak the cloth. A large scab was in the process of forming over it and all around the red gash the skin was a shade of purple, revealing a large bruise. Axel felt annoyance rise up inside him. That would leave a scar. He knew it wasn't a big deal, but it wasn't the prettiest sight. At least it had stopped throbbing. His feet were bare on the wooden tile as he picked the candle up and limped toward the door, almost tripping but he caught himself on the wall. Taking a deep breath, Axel placed his hand on the knob and slowly turned it, opening the door with a loud creaking sound.

He limped outside of his room into the empty and dark hall, his eyes pausing on Freya's room for a moment before he kept limping toward the stairs. He reached them after a struggle and then sighed as he looked down a long flight of stairs. Carefully, he put one hand on the rail and the other against the wall, then lifted himself up by pushing against the wall and rail and put his right foot down. He continued using this tactic as he slowly went down the stairs, wincing every time his right foot hit a board of wood that creaked loudly. Letting out a breath of relief as he reached the bottom, he thought about what he wanted to do. It wasn't his home so he wasn't going to treat or act as if it was. He narrowed his eyes and stood at the bottom of the stairs for a moment.

He could wait for Freya to wake up and see what her plan was for the day. Or he could go and try to take a nap on the sofa. He limped across the wooden floor over to the kitchen counter. Everything was still dark, so he didn't want to accidentally bump into anything or break something. He let out another breath, feeling awkward as he stood there in the dark in silence. What did Freya do every morning? She normally came and fed him while he was up in the loft and fed the animals. His gaze flickered to the door for a moment. He could feed the animals for her.

Doubt and fear crept into his mind as he pictured English soldiers waiting for him. He didn't know what was outside. He wouldn't take the risk. Axel looked around, unsure what he was to do. Boredom settle inside him as he limped out of the kitchen and into the main room. That's when he saw it.

A lee-Enfield rifle.

He didn't know how he had missed it before, it was hanging over the fireplace in plain view. He could barely see the long barrel of it, and the stock was a dark shade of brown. He smirked, picturing himself holding it and aiming it and then pulling the trigger. He had only seen one like it once before because they were a British gun type. But they were nice. Axel limped over to the fireplace and looked up at the rifle, wanting so badly to hold it, but it wasn't his so he didn't. He blinked and tore his gaze away, still bored.

He could go outside. No, he wouldn't do that.

He hesitated and then looked down at his splint. It wouldn't be wise to go outside. Not with his foot in this condition.

Axel looked around and decided to just wait for Freya to wake up. He limped over to the sofa and sat down, leaning back and resting his head against the back of the cushion. He closed his eyes.

'Left, left, left right, right, right left!'

A flight of soldiers marched up a dusty, dirt covered road, panting and breathing heavily as they struggle up the hill, which was like a mountain to them.

'Left, left, left right...Pick it up!'

The flight commander yelled over the heavy breathing as the group of soldiers tried to stay in formation as they pushed themselves to their limits. Sweat soaked each soldier, making the 12 mile journey uncomfortable.

One soldier was more tired than the others and he tripped, two others next to him catching him before he hit the ground and helping him regain balance so he could keep marching. The green eyes of the young, tired soldier who had almost tripped blinked miserably as he struggled to keep walking.

'Hurry up! You don't expect Germany to win this war with soldiers who can't walk up hills?!'

The soldiers picked up their pace, walking faster, despite the screaming of their protesting bodies that were aching in pain. They had been walking for hours on end without stop and there wasn't one cloud in the sky to block out the bright, glaring sun.

'I sware that when I'm outta this war,' the blond soldier next to the green eyed one whispered, 'I'ma make sure those dog gon captains yellin at us never cross my path again.'

The green eyed solder narrowed his freckled face and kept walking, dark hair soaked with sweat.

'An I'ma make sure I get myself a good girl, one who can cook good.' The blond ranted, smiling a little as he tried to cheer the other soldier.

That comment made the green eyed soldier smile. 'One who can make the best pie, a cherry one.' He replied between pants.

'Shut the heck up you two, you're makin me hungry.' The soldier on the opposite side of the dark haired one snapped quietly as he shot a teasing look toward the two.

'Well don't blame me now, Walter is the one who wants a wife who can cook.' The middle soldier said, green eyes smiling as he felt the burden of the walk ease a little.

'Aye, I never said I wanted no wife. Just a girl who can cook.' Walter shot back.

'Do I hear talking?' One of the German commanders walked to the row where the three soldiers were walking. 'You three, fallout!'

The three who had been talking fell out of the flight of soldiers, standing still for the first time since the beginning of the walk. They stood at the position of attention while the commander inspected the three.

'When we go on marches, you are instructed to keep your mouth shut until it is over! Understood, soldiers?' He yelled.

'Yes, sir!' They yelled back.

'If you understand, then I want you to run back down this hill and then proceed to RUN TO THE TOP WITHOUT STOPPING, or I will make you do this whole march again. Understood?' The commander screamed.

'Yes, sir!'

The three began running, the small, green eyed soldier taking the lead as he sprinted down the hill, reaching the bottom before the other two. He turned, looking up at a hill that stretched for about half a mile.

Axel smiled, eyes still closed as he relived the memory. He pictured the look on Walters face as Axel had reached the top first and had rejoined the flight before anybody else. The other soldier in his flight had almost passed out running the distance back down and back up but all three had made it. Axel's mind turned to another time, longer ago, before he had enlisted...

Two boys walked through the street, the eldest carrying the youngest on his back as the middle aged walked alongside the eldest one. The littlest looked around with wide, green eyes at all of the soldiers marching in organized flight down the street. They were so big and so brave. The second youngest was walking close to the eldest, his blue eyes wide as he also stared in wonder at all the passing soldiers.

A few soldiers spotted the boys and walked over. The eldest boy dropped the youngest and the older two lined up and raised their arms up in some form of a salute. The little one, black waves and curls bouncing as he tried to line up too, put is arm in front of him as he saluted as well.

The soldiers smiled to each other and then went to 'attention' and saluted back, lowering theirs the same time the boys did.

'How are you fine young men doing this afternoon?' A soldier asked them, his neat uniform without flaws and his shoes shined to the best so they reflected the scenery around them.

The littlest one looked up at the tall soldier and smiled, dimples showing as the soldier patted him on the head.

'Good, um, sir!' The eldest squeaked, and the littlest thought he was a little afraid. Or was it amazed?

One soldier walked over to the middle one and pulled out a small pair of wings.

'Here, son. Do you like planes?' He handed the pair of pretty, silver wings to the middle one and the middle one took it, eyes wide.

'I do, sir.' He replied calmly.

'Well, take that then. I had a spare. Maybe you'll fly for Hitler one day. See ya around, kid.' The soldier winked and stood, walking away and leaving all three in complete awe.

The littlest one watched as the soldiers waved and patted their heads and continued their trip. Both the youngest and the oldest looked at the middle boy with slight jealousy. The boy held the wings in his hands and looked up, eyes wide and blue.

'I'm gonna fly!'