A small update coming up. This will be the last update before the two week period of final exams waiting for me. :wacko::wacko:
.........
A few days later, on the plains of South Africa
“How long have you been in Africa, Monsieur Rommel?”
“For some time now, for some time,” replied Rommel to Mata Hari, who was riding by his side. “How about you, Mata… Hari?”
“Well, for some time now too, Monsieur Rommel,” said Mata Hari as she let out a small laugh.
It was another day of nice weather for Rommel and Mata Hari, with the sun was high above their heads. The two had stopped by a small river to rest and give their horses a drink. The two had a few sandwiches for lunch.
“So… when will we make it to Pretoria?” asked Rommel.
“We should be able to reach Pretoria in less than two days, possibly even before the sun sets tomorrow if we quicken our current pace.”
“Do you… have any idea of the War going on lately?”
“It’s hard for me to say, Monsieur Rommel, but as far as I know the War is largely over. However guerrilla groups seemed to be springing out all over the country right now.” Mata Hari answered while letting out a sigh.
“What about the refugee camps… what is it all about?” asked Rommel.
“… Let’s get back on horses, shall we? We had a good rest already” Mata Hari did not answer, but simply got up with a troubled look on her face.
“There’s something going on the refugee camps that you don’t know, and would not want to know” whispered Mata Hari in her lowest voice possible. The whistling of the wind easily prevented Rommel from hearing any of those words.
Rommel did not asked anything further, and the two mounted their horses again and continue on their journey. As Rommel and Mata Hari were reached the top of a small ridge, they noticed some hustling around some distance away from them. Not far away where they were, they spotted a group of Zulu warriors were in a hot pursuit for a single man. The man appeared to be quite exhausted and could barely ran any more, while his pursuers were closing the distance astonishingly quick. One of the Zulu warriors threw his spear at the running man and grazed his foot, causing the man to fall to the ground.
“It looks like that man is in deep trouble,” said Mata Hari without turning away from the scene.
“Yes, real deep trouble,” replied Rommel.
Without further wasting any precious moments, Rommel and Mata Hari charged down the ridge full speed.
As he close in the ranks of the Zulu warriors, Rommel immediately bayonetted the closest Zulu warrior straight in the face with his Mondragon, before he leapt down from his horse and started blasting away with his shotgun. By aiming directly at his foes’ heads, Rommel was able to easily dispatch the oncoming slaughter with relative ease.
More Zulu warriors were falling to the ground as a few rifle shots cracked through the air, their skulls pierced by the powerful rounds fired. Rommel turned and took a glimpse behind him and saw Mata Hari holding a Mauser proudly on her horse and taking more shots.
“Monsieur Rommel, they are getting to the man!” cried Mata Hari as she tried to reload her rifle as quick as possible. A few Zulu warriors were gathering around the fallen man, while one prepared to strike a final blow at the man with the point of his spear aimed at the man’s exposed throat.
Rommel rushed ahead to the fallen man without further haste, and drew a dagger before throwing it at the Zulu warrior. The blade struck the warrior at the back of his head and the warrior immediately fell not to rise again.
The other Zulu warriors sensed Rommel’s presence and began charged at him. However, Rommel was able to dodge and grabbed hold of one of the spears directed against him. In a swift combination of movements Rommel knocked over the warrior who was holding the spear on the other end and took control of the spear, in which he used to decapitate the foes within the striking range of the spear.
The few remaining Zulu warriors noticed that the situation was quite different than from moments before, and after giving Rommel and the others hateful glares they retreated and left from the scene.
“What’s your name, good sir?” asked Rommel as he helped the fallen man up. The man’s wound was not seriously, but still it needed treatment to prevent infection.
The man took a deep breath before he muttered something out of his mouth.
“My name is Winston… Winston Churchill.”
(Almost forgot about o'Winston, but luckily rereading 1984 reminded me of him.
)