The wind struck Şehsuvar's face so hard that he had to squeeze his eyes shut.
Snow swirled through the air.
For a few moments, he could see nothing but white.
White as far as the eye could see.
He felt the cold pierce his clothes and reach his bones.
His fingers went numb.
His breath escaped in a thin mist.
“Where are we?”
Şehsuvar slowly opened his eyes.
The woman was still standing a few steps in front of him.
Her coat billowed in the wind, but strangely, not a single flake of snow clung to the fabric.
She looked as though the snowstorm had no power over her.
Şehsuvar looked around.
There were no trenches.
No village.
No road.
Only a mountain slope stretching into the darkness.
In the distance, faint lights moved like fireflies.
But Şehsuvar knew they weren't fireflies.
They were lanterns.
Hundreds of soldiers were making their way along the mountain pass.
“Our troops?”
Khanım nodded.
“Some of them.”
Şehsuvar watched them.
The soldiers marched in a long line, carrying their rifles and gear.
Some bowed their heads to shield their faces from the snow.
Others stumbled as they walked.
Some stopped for a moment to rub their hands.
Then they were forced to keep moving.
No one spoke.
Even the sound of their footsteps was nearly swallowed by the snow.
“Why aren't they using the road?”
Khanım gave a faint smile.
“Because an easy road is also an easy road for the enemy to find.”
Şehsuvar frowned.
“So we're going around them?”
“That is the plan.”
“Whose plan?”
“The people far behind you.”
The answer made Şehsuvar uncomfortable.
He looked back at the line of soldiers.
“How many of them will make it?”
Khanım did not answer.
She merely stared at the slope before them.
Şehsuvar followed her gaze.
Beyond the curtain of snow, someone fell.
A soldier.
First he dropped to his knees.
Then both hands touched the ground.
His body did not move again.
The soldier walking behind him passed by the body without stopping.
No one lifted him.
No one called his name.
They kept walking.
Şehsuvar swallowed.
“Is he dead?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Then why did they leave him, you disloyal bastard?”
“Because if they stop, there may be two people who never make it.”
Şehsuvar fell silent.
He didn't like that answer.
But he couldn't argue with it either.
They kept walking.
Time lost its meaning.
Day and night felt the same.
The farther they went, the more bodies they saw along the way.
Some lay facedown in the snow.
Some still clutched their rifles.
A few looked as though they were sleeping.
But they would never wake up.
Şehsuvar began to notice something strange.
There were no birds.
No insects.
No animals.
Only the wind.
The wind that continued to blow through the mountains like the voice of someone whispering.
“Is this really war?” Şehsuvar asked.
Khanım turned to him.
“What do you think?”
“It feels like a journey to hell.”
The woman smiled.
“Sometimes the two are the same.”
Şehsuvar did not answer.
They walked past a slope.
Several simple tents stood there.
A thin stream of smoke drifted from one of them.
The soldiers gathered around a small fire.
One of them was handing out food.
“Hardtack,” Khanım said. “A kind of dry bread.”
There wasn't much of it.
Too little for bodies that had been walking for hours in air that cold.
Şehsuvar saw a young soldier receive his portion.
His chest tightened.
“Why did you bring me here?”
Khanım did not answer right away.
She walked past the campfire without showing the slightest sign of feeling the cold.
“I want you to see something.”
“What?”
“Human beings.”
Şehsuvar stared at her in confusion.
“I've been seeing human beings all my life.”
“No.”
Khanım turned to him.
“You've been seeing them as soldiers.”
She pointed toward the two young men dividing the hardtack.
“Look at them as human beings.”
Şehsuvar looked at them again.
One of the young men gave a quiet laugh.
The other complained about his aching feet.
They talked about home.
About family.
About food.
About what they would do if the war ended.
For a moment, there was no war between them.
There were only two human beings who were cold and wanted to go home.
Şehsuvar lowered his head.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
He did not answer.
Not long afterward, a sound came from the distance.
Someone shouted.
“Russians!”
The soldiers sprang to their feet.
Some grabbed their rifles.
Others ran toward the defensive positions.
The atmosphere changed in an instant.
The campfire was extinguished.
The lanterns were covered.
Everyone moved in silence.
Şehsuvar felt his heart beating faster.
He gripped his rifle.
“Where are they?”
“Behind the hill.”
“How many?”
“Enough.”
Şehsuvar turned.
Khanım was still standing in the same place.
She did not take up a weapon.
She did not seek cover.
She did not look afraid.
“Why aren't you helping?”
The woman looked at him.
“I didn't come to fight.”
“Then what did you come for?”
“I came to see what you would do.”
Before Şehsuvar could answer, gunfire erupted.
One shot.
Two.
Then dozens.
Snow flew around them as bullets struck the ground.
The Ottoman soldiers returned fire.
Şehsuvar threw himself to the ground.
An explosion sounded from behind the hill.
Someone screamed.
A soldier fell beside him.
Şehsuvar instinctively grabbed his shoulder.
“Get up!”
There was no answer.
He shook him.
“Get up!”
Blood began to seep from his uniform.
Şehsuvar froze.
For a moment, the sounds of war seemed to recede.
He heard only his own breathing.
Then Khanım spoke behind him.
“Do you understand now?”
Şehsuvar turned.
The woman stood in the snow.
Calm.
Far too calm.
“Understand what?”
“Why I said this place would get worse.”
Şehsuvar looked back at the battlefield.
The Russian forces began to advance.
The Ottoman soldiers fired from behind rocks and mounds of snow.
There was no glory.
No music.
No victory in sight.
Only human beings trying to kill other human beings before they were killed themselves.
Şehsuvar raised his rifle.
His hands trembled.
But he kept his aim.
Then he pulled the trigger.
The rifle's report echoed between the mountains.
And for the first time, Şehsuvar realized that war in the Caucasus didn't need monsters.
Human beings were terrifying enough on their own.