The temperature had been rising and falling sharply for the last few days, moving between frost and thaw several times in the last week. At the moment it was biting cold, and the snowy slush covering the ground had frozen into a thick layer of ice. Oskar swore silently to himself as he fumbled around in the pre-dawn light, preparing his equipment for the task ahead. The rapid changes between damp and cold had not been kind to it. “You’re not really going to attack the bridge, are you?” He spun around with a low oath, only to find the pale lady standing behind him. “How do you keep doing that?” The lady ignored the question. “How did they even take the bridge in the first place?” Oskar sighed deeply. “We don’t know. One day the bridge garrison reported no problems, the next they were all dead. The captain suspects betrayal from within.” “And now you’re going to attack the bridge?” “We don’t have a choice. If we can’t take it back, the enemy will have control over the river.” “But the bridge has never been taken by force of arms!” “Don’t you think I know that? Even with a force like this, most of us are probably going to be dead by evening. But we don’t have a choice!” The lady looked at him sadly as he kept preparing his equipment. Slowly, mournfully, she started to sing. “The men of Raskile Bridge stood by, so steadfast yet, so steadfast yet. The men of Raskile Bridge stood by as King and honour bade them.” Oskar hesitated for a moment, but then shook his head and shouldered his rifle. A light patter of small, wet snowflakes stung his weather-beaten face. “Through wind and rain and snow they fought, so steadfast yet, so steadfast yet. Upon the bridge that never fell as King and honour bade them.” He turned around to look at her. Her face was wet, but there was no way to tell if it was just the snow or if she was crying. A little hesitantly, he joined in the dour song. “With steel in hand they stood prepared, so steadfast yet, so steadfast yet. To fight until their final breath as King and honour bade them.” As the song petered out into nothing he stretched out a hand, and she clasped it so hard it almost hurt. “I don’t want you to go.” She choked out. “And I don’t want to go. But I must.” She leaned in and kissed him, her cold lips tasting like salt. “Go, my soldier. Go and be brave.” She let him go and ran off into the woods, looking even paler than before. With a steely gaze Oskar turned towards Raskile Bridge.