Unexpected(CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTEN)

chapter twenty-two

~*Tord's POV*~

Silence filled the air as he stalked through the woods. Everything was silent, excluding the soft rustling of the trees. The forest was dark and looming, darkness sweeping at every corner as shadows were cast. Lightning flashed through the air, slightly illuminating his figure, revealing a large sniper rifle. Concentration was written on his face as he focused, trying to find his target. As though fate was smiling upon him, he heard the noise of a twig snap. He spotted it running like it could escape his grasp. It took him no more than thirty seconds to take aim and shoot it, and he watched in satisfaction as the bullet caused it to topple over, falling onto its side with a THUMP, and a shout of pain.

He sighed gratefully, swinging the rifle over his shoulder as he began to walk towards the target. His expression dark, the atmosphere complied with him, brooding and dim. He went towards the figure as quickly as possible, leaving the trail. Finally, he reached the body, crouching down to inspect his target, who was whimpering and struggling to get up. Footsteps, however, caused him to whip his head around, shoulders tense.

"Relax, rød leder. It's just Paul and me." Patryk reassured, watching as Tord relaxed his shoulders. His eyes reached the body in front of Tord, and a proud look was placed on his face. "Nice shot."

"Thank you. It is a blå soldat," he explained dryly, "I believe it was a spy or something along those lines." He trailed his fingers across her exposed arm, inspecting the uniform. It shivered and struggled against his touch, glaring at him.

"Her rank should be on her sleeve," offered Patryk, kneeling to watch him.

"French." Tord sneered, face scrunched in disgust. "Defiantly a blue soldier. Espion bleu - er, what is that again?"

"Just like you guessed. She was a spy," Paul noted, eyes hard.

"Of course I was right. It is a spy," he snapped back, eye twitching in annoyance.

"Oh, fuck off!" it snarled back at him, voice quivering.

"Tord, do not be rude to Paul," Patryk ordered, crossing his arms.

"Whatever." Tord ran his hand behind his neck, still staring at the frozen body of a young, shot girl. Patryk scowled and turned to Paul, though Tord had spaced out by now, inspecting the blue spy. Light brown hair that was fitted into a braid ran behind her back, and soft cheeks with plump limps would've made her attractive if she was morally correct. Her eyes had not yet closed, revealing a beautiful amber that shone in the darkness of the forest.

"We need to interrogate it," he said suddenly.

"Her. We need to interrogate her," Patryk corrected.

"Stop personifying the animals," Tord snapped back.

"Stop objectifying the enemy!" Paul yelled, nostrils flaring.

"That's it! We've decided. After this interrogation? You are taking a break."