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“Who are they?” asked Georg quickly, straining his eyes to see what the other would gladly not have seen.
“Wolves.” Ulrich said, fear and slight surprise bleeding into his previously buoyant voice.
Pinioned beneath the heavy branch, the men attempted to extricate themselves from their quandary, but nonetheless, their confinement proved to be absolute. The pair searched as best they could amidst the plethora of moist earth, for any sliver of hope that their soldiers would arrive and provide assuagement. As layer upon layer of viscous mud smeared across their faces, a result of their writhing about on the ground in an escape attempt, the smell of blood and petrichor enveloped their senses. The distant predators began to draw near, their paws sinking into the sodden ground creating an ominous march faintly heard over Ulrich’s unrestrained and hysterical cries, as he hoped that their men would hear them.
“Be quiet. You are attracting the attention of the beasts!” Georg snapped quickly. Confused and taken aback by such a change in Georg’s manner of speaking, Ulrich fell quiet. As the wolves drew closer and closer in their peripheral vision, unbridled terror carefully etched itself into their faces. Ulrich spoke, a noticeable tremor in his voice.
“T-they are getting c-closer to us... D-do you think we shall s-survive this treacherous c-crisis?”
“I very much hope so, and if not we shall die knowing we have done our very best in our endeavor to escape,” Georg responded, refusing to let his true emotions slip as he had done in his previous outburst.
Suddenly, Ulrich let out a slight gasp.
“There! In the distance.”
“Not this again! Are there more wolves?!” Georg was filled with paralyzing dread as he spoke. He required a moment to catch his breath as his heart beat wildly within his chest, the restrictive feeling only made worse by their imprisonment under the large branch.
“No! I think those are my men,” Ulrich exclaimed. A sliver of hope blossomed within both Ulrich and Georg, as they realized there was a possibility of being saved. They saw Georg’s men join the group of people that had now assembled in the distance hardly a minute later. Ulrich desperately clawed at the branch, the coarse wood tearing at his already bloodstained fingertips. The wolves, sensing the scent of blood, drew nearer.
“Ulrich, stop! You are drawing the wolves closer with your wounds!” Georg cried out.
“But we may be saved, help me, you egg! Ulrich angrily retorted, his emotions once again getting the better of him.
“I don’t think it to be the time to quote Shakespeare,” Georg paused between sobs. “Our lives are at stake, and our men don’t even notice that we’re here.” The distant soldiers scanned the area before a taller, more decorated one barked and ordered them to move on. Georg’s sobs became louder, and more urgent as he prayed for a saving grace.
Lured by the stench of blood, the wolves drew closer yet. The pack began to part, revealing one larger than the rest. It stepped forward letting out a low snarl as its paws squelched in the mud below. Georg whispered hoarsely to Ulrich.
“I-I think this is the end. Ulrich, I know that we’ve feuded for the past century, but this past night has opened my eyes. I have dedicated my life to fighting you, but instead, I'd like to dedicate what’s left of my mind and body to loving you, even into the afterlife. So I say, Ulrich, will you hold my hand as we die together?”
Ulrich doesn’t respond. He slowly reached over, and grasped Georg’s hand in his own. The promise between them remained unspoken, although, understanding the gesture, Georg smiled faintly.
“And promise me, if I shall die first, and there is even but a sliver of a chance you can be saved, remain strong. Save yourself, live your life without me, but keep the memories of the times we’ve spent together. Please… live for me?” Georg continued, emotion coloring his tone.
The wolves let out a final howl before they pounced upon them. A medley of terrifying noises erupted from the forest, and Ulrich squeezed his eyes tight and Georg’s hand even tighter at the sickening crunch of Georg’s bones as they lunged. He cried out, distraught and plagued with abhorrent grief at the loss of his newfound love. The wolves feasted on the remains, but seemed uninterested in Ulrich who was still clutching Georg’s hand, as if his life depended on it.
“Why, oh Lord, must you take just one? Let me die, O-Great One! If I shall burn in hell for my sins, let it be with him!” Ulrich implored. He turned his head towards the wolves, waving his hands frantically in an attempt to get their attention away from his beloved, and onto himself. One turned, and wandered to the man, sniffed him, and walked away, leaving deep prints in the miry ground. Ulrich fell back and let out a sob. Then another. It kept coming, until the storm stopped. The sun, now rising, turned the forest into a glittering array of leaves spattered with blood. Finally daring to look at Georg, Ulrich spotted a gleaming object, just within reach. He struggled against the branch, but finally had the knife in his grasp.
“Georg, my love... I want you to live on, but I-I do not. I cannot live a life without you, and for this-” Ulrich raised the knife and pressed it to his abdomen, “I am sorry.” As the knife plunged deep into him, he let out a raggedy sigh of relief, and tried to avert his eyes from his lover’s corpse. As he died he thought of their time together, how the wolves lapped at his love’s blood as if it was ichor, and how he would meet with Georg in the afterlife. With his final breath, he croaked
“Until we meet again...”