The Cold of War

Chapter 2

North America, exact location unknown, approx. 10 miles from base

The cold chilled every fiber of his being, the shear rush of adrenaline the only thing regulating his dropping body temperature. The fingers holding the hilt of his sword seemed frozen and refused to move. His back, pressed against the trunk of a tree, had long been numbed through the thin clothes and cloak that he had been supplied with. Cerulean blue eyes darted across every inch of the snowy plain, sharp ears listening for the slightest disturbance in the wind. His enemies were stealthy and silent, difficult to locate, and seeming impossible to defeat.
After the disappearance of his comrades, the young swordsman, Cyprian, knew that this battle could not be won. Ever since the start of this blasted war, the earthly forces had been unable to hold a steady line of defense against the unearthly enemy's strong offense at almost every battle. The soldiers, forced to fight, did not know why they were fighting. The world governments told them that everything was fine and under control, but anyone on the field could say otherwise.
Cyprian forced his shaking hands to sheath the near-frozen sword grasped between his fingers, the moon's rays shining off the metal it was safely put away. The snow, floating down at a steady pace, would have been relaxing had he been in a different situation.
The young man's entire Unit had suddenly vanished, the footprints in the snow the only evidence of them ever being there. Cyprian could remember the blood red eye's of the apparent enemy general as he spoke unintelligible words to the soldier beside him. A sadistic smirk from the soldier was the only warning his Unit received before a shout rang out from behind enemy lines and a bright flash of light caused even the moon to seem like a mere twinkle. The force of the blast threw Cyprian to the ground, momentarily unconscious. He awoke to the still of the night and a ringing in his ears, all alone save for a few bats brave enough to fly this area. The soldier's only comfort was the absence of his enemies. Both offensive and defensive sides were missing upon his awakening. Cyprian's currently scrambled mind vaguely recalled one of the Generals speaking of a weapon that had the ability to transport or teleport small groups of people, but the swordsman was having trouble concentrating on anything.
However, Cyprian was now alone, miles away from base and threatened with hypothermia. The young soldier knew that his only chance of survival was to somehow reach base, and in the back of his mind he knew that failure would mean his demise.
Gritting his teeth and pulling on the navy blue hood of his cloak, Cyprian reluctantly pushed himself off of the treetrunk. Fortunately for himself, he knew which direction needed to be travelled in order to reach base. Taking a moment to compose himself, Cyprian started off towards the base, the bitter cold wind blowing black locks of hair into his eyes.
Cyprian Borphus was a seventeen-year-old soldier who had been transferred from his home in England to North America. However, he only knew of his English nationality because he had been told. The war started when he was three, on his birthday no less, and he had been transported to North America, taken away from his parents in order to prepare him for the war. Thoughts from his childhood (if you could call it one) danced through his head, coming and leaving as quickly as the snow falling around him. Cyprian was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed the large metal object hidden in the treeline to the left of him. Walking on stumbling feet, the soldier turned to go examine the object. Upon closer inspection, Cyprian knew that he had never seen anything like it. On one end of the contraption was what seemed to be some sort of control panel. When he touched the screen, it lit up and displayed words in a language he immediately recognized.
So it is something belonging to our enemy, Cyprian managed to piece together. Curious to find out what the device did, he pointed the other end at a tree and pressed the button that he guessed was the activation button. A quiet humming noise rang out from the machine, but it was quickly followed by a blast that absolutely destroyed the tree. It's ashes fell to the ground, as if it had been burned. Cyprian was terrified by the power that this weapon displayed. There had been no reports about a weapon of this magnitude before, and Cyprian knew that he had never heard about or seen the weapon in any of the battles he'd fought in. Knowing that knowledge of this weapon was critical to report to his Generals, Cyprian again began trekking towards his base, only to realize that he didn't know where it was.
Cyprian began to panic upon the realization that he had no idea which direction to go. His mind was fuzzy and he couldn't seem to think. Something in the back of his mind was screaming at him to find shelter and get warm, but he couldn't decipher his own thoughts. The soldier tried to will his feet to move but found them frozen in their place, quite literally. He eventually got them to move, but he ended up tripping over nothing and collapsing into the cold snow. Cyprian tried to stand, but his numb body only allowed him to find his way to his knees. He was almost glad for the numbers, however. The cold was unbearable, especially considering the thin clothes that provided absolutely no protection. Cyprian never realized his arms that had wrapped around himself. He never realized that his eyes began to flutter close on account of his severe drowsiness. And Cyprian never realized the large hand that covered his mouth as he drifted into unconsciousness.