Always Put the Chick Back in the Nest

One year and four days. A whole fucking year and four goddamn days. James had been in Europe for one whole, miserable year and four even more miserable, shitty days. He was unimaginably tired. His bones were tired. His bones had been tired since the very first godforsaken step he had taken off of that insufferable boat. James just wanted to go home. He just wanted some decent coffee. He just wanted to stop getting shot at by fascists. He just wanted a pair of boots that didn’t cover his feet in blisters. Was that too much to ask?

The 94th infantry regiment was currently hiking through who the fuck knows where (presumably northern France) to try and get to some invisible line just in time to be completely fucking demolished by the nazis. James thought it was a great plan, flawless, really, it’s not as if he could have come up with any better plan in his sleep or anything. They were supposed to walk through 32 miles of uninhabited fields of tall grass and take residence in some long-abandoned trenches dug during the last war to end all wars. And presumably the Germans would be so surprised by their presence that the fact that they were outgunned and outmanned wouldn’t matter. Really, it was an amazing plan, just fucking perfect. 

They were singing, they were all singing, as always, uncensored and unfortunately off-key. James was among them, his voice blending in with the crowd. Underneath the brash vocalizations, his ears picked up the sound of chirping. It was a shrill desperate sound that was almost more shrieking than chirping. James’s gaze turned to one of the few trees that dotted to the field. A bird paced back and forth on one of the branches frantically cooing. He walked over to the tree, standing underneath it, gazing up at the uneasy animal. The chirping was at his feet now, he looked down, finding a small bird about a foot from the toe of his right boot. 

He picked it up, studying the wiggling chick in his hand. The bird in the tree continued it’s disturbed calls. The nest was near the top of the tree. James sighed. He stuffed the bird in the front pocket of his jacket, and set about climbing the tree. He was nearly at the top when his commanding officer started yelling. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing corporal?”

“Get your sorry ass down here yuck!”

“You’re holding up the whole goddamn company!”

James had just managed to dig the chick out of his pocket and place it back in the nest when Sergeant Major Hinkley decided to chuck a canteen at his head. James’ foot slipped, then his hand slipped. Suddenly, he was falling, then, briefly, he wasn’t, then, he was falling again, then, he was flat on his back, the breath knocked out of him, the handle of the metal mug in his pack diffing painfully into his shoulder blade. The company laughed, Captain Granger looked pissed, James wheezed. He sat up miserably, reaching for his rifle, which lay next to him in the grass.

“There was a baby bird,” he coughed, “I was puttin’ it back in the nest… Sir.”

The captain rolled his eyes. “On your feet. Everyone keep moving!”

A chorus of ‘Yes Sir!’ rang out among the company. 

Aaron extended a hand which James graciously accepted, murmuring his thanks. Aaron gave James one of those smiles that made him feel like spinning Aaron around and dipping him to give him a kiss. Shoulder to shoulder they brought up the rear of the company, singing horrendous tunes, making lewd jokes, and generally being obnoxious, as American soldiers often are. 

The trenches, as they soon found, had been retaken by the earth. While the reinforced walls of the trenched had weathered the decades, grass and wildflowers grew through the gaps between the stones. The beginnings of an olive tree had pushed itself up, branches just barely reaching the height of the trench walls. A snake perched on the edge of the trench, sunning itself in one of the last few rays of light the day had to offer. The line stretched all of the way across the field only stopping at the thick forest that bracketed the open area. 

“Alright,” Captain Granger sighed, “Alpha and Fox company are southeast.” He gestured to one side of the line. “Baker is northwest. We're here. Settle in boys. We should have a pretty easy night, Germans’ll be here tomorrow just before noon.”

They filed into the trench, rummaging through their packs for rations. The singing had stopped. Aaron and James slumped against opposite sides of the trench, knees touching. Most of the other men had arranged themselves in a similar manner. Packing together to fight off the slight chill of the impending night. 

James tipped his head back, observing the beginnings of the galaxy beginning to form in the darkening sky. He wished he could still hear that distressed bird shrieking, anything would be better than this. He had gotten used to his brothers in arms chattering, raising their voices ever so slightly above the sounds of crickets and birds. Tonight, their voices were not raised. There were no birds, no crickets. Impending death was always quiet.

Someone was watching him, James was sure of that. He hadn’t yet managed to open his eyes, mind still drowning in sleep, but someone was watching him. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. He wasn’t sure if the voice in his head was his own. With more effort than should have been required, James lurched forward, grabbing for his rifle, swinging the barrel in the direction of the watching eyes. 

Finally, he managed to pry his eyes open.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

There was a woman crouched next to him in the trench. Her unnaturally green eyes watching him intently. She tilted her head, unperturbed by the gun pointed between her brows.

“What the fuck?” shouted Aaron, fumbling for his weapon. “Who are you? Who sent you?” The rest of the company was waking up.

“Mielikki,” the woman said, her voice was low and rough, she had an odd accent, the origins of which James couldn’t pinpoint

“What?” James and Aaron said at the same time.

“I am Mielikki. You asked,” She looked confused now. 

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?” Captain Granger. Every man in the company now has his gun pointed in her direction. 

“My name is Mielikki. I am here for him.” She pointed her index and middle fingers at James. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Granger growled.

“You put the chick back in its nest,” she stated.

“I- yeah. I guess. What- so what?” 

The woman- Mielikki- smiled, “It's just, that's usually my job.”

“Sorry.’’

“Don’t be sorry, child.”

“Who sent you?” Granger cut in.

Mielikki looked only mildly offended. “No one sends me anywhere.” She rose to her full height, James hadn’t realized how big she was. She was a head taller than Granger, broad shoulders, and thick, well-defined muscle you could see through her thin dress. “I go where I please and do as I please. Now, it would please me to pull your weapon from your hands and slaughter you with it, but instead, I shall request you and your men lower your weapons.” 

Something happened. Mielikki’s words were magic, a wave of calm spread through the anxious soldiers, a lovely voice in their heads persuading them to lower their guns. Most of the men still wore panicked expressions on their faces, the white-knuckled grips on their guns remaining as they lowered them. 

“Very good,” Mielikki praised.

A singular shot rang out, the bullet ripping its way through Mielikki’s braided black hair. The men shrank back on instinct, pressing themselves into the sides of the trenches. Mielikki turned calmly, unbothered, and fixed her gaze on the Germans emerging from the tree line. Another bullet tore through the dress fabric of Mielikki’s waist, hardly grazing the pale skin beneath. 

James lunged forward, grabbing her and pulling her to the ground.

“You trying to get shot?” he hissed at her. She pushed him off of her roughly and stood again. And walked through the trench. James pressed his back against the trench next to Aaron.

“What the hell does that broad think she’s doing?” Aaron huffed. 

She scraped a hand across the edge of the tench, grabbing a handful of brown earth. She held a handful of dirt just above her head and let it fall. James watched, mesmerized as the earth expanded clouding around Mielikki and suddenly pulling itself against her upper body, forming some sort of armor. Mielikki stopped at the sapling olive tree and pulled all the thin branches from its small body. 

Mielikki jumped from the trench in a way that shouldn't have been possible. Bullets ricocheted off of her earthen armor. She twirled twig in her hand. The twig straightened and grew, taking the shape of an arrow. With a flick of her wrist, the arrow flew across the field, finding its target in a German’s eye. 

“Holy shit,” James muttered. 

The branches on her other hand imitated the mutation. Mielikki threw them out in an arc all at once, dropping more than a dozen men. She bent down ripping a handful of tall grass from the ground. She repeated the motion she’d made with the arrows. A broad sweep of her arm and blades of grass turned to blades of steel in the air, impaling themselves in the foreheads of the enemy. 

James’s ears were ringing, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe. Shit. He was moving. Well, he wasn’t moving, someone was moving him. Someone was dragging him. Jesus, his arm burned like hell. Whoever was dragging him was shouting. Shouting for a medic probably. James was promptly propped upright. He remembered now, a fucking potato masher landed right next to him, there had been just enough time to throw up an arm to protect his head. It must've not been right next to him if he was still alive, it had felt like it was right there. 

James’s eyes were being pried open. 

“Look at me,” McHenry demanded. James tried, everything was blurry. Was that McHenry, maybe it was Berkely. 

“Yer gonna be alright, ‘ear me.”

James tried to nod, but once he’d dropped his chin to his chest he couldn’t manage to lift it again. Hands cupped his face. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You're okay. Please, please James, be okay. Please.”

It was Aaron, he was crying. James raised his good arm, gripping at the itchy fabric of Aaron’s coat. James felt weird. The pain was melting, maybe he was melting, he felt like laughing, he didn’t have enough air in his lungs to laugh. He tried to tell Aaron that he was alright but the only sound that he could muster was croaking noise. 

Another face appeared in his field of vision, Mielikki. She crouched beside Aaron and pressed her fingertips to James’s forehead. He could breathe again, thank god. The ringing in his ears eased, the burns on his arm scarred over, the morphine dissolved from his system. Aaron pulled him forward roughly, enveloping him in a forceful hug. The shooting had stopped, why? Why was everyone staring at him? They weren’t, he realized, they were watching Mielikki. 

“What the hell are you?” Sergeant Major Hinkley asked.

Mielikki looked puzzled, “I am Mielikki, daughter of Tapio, mother of Nyyrikki and Tuulikki.” 

“What?” most of the men said.

Mielikki sighed, “Most of my worshippers reside far north of here.” She explained as if that would help any of them understand. 

Aaron helped James stand up.

“Holy fuck.” Everyone looked at him.

The field was littered with dead Germans, several of which were being feasted on by bears.

“You did all of this?”

Mielikki looked rather pleased, “You say that as if it was a difficult feat. You humans are rather easy to kill.

“Us humans?” Aaron muttered.

“Yes. You. I am a god.”

“You’re a fuckin’ what now?” McHenry demanded.

“I am the goddess of forests and of hunters, creator of the bear.”

“It’s too early for this,” Captain Granger complained, running a hand over his forehead.

“I am the goddess Mielikki, and from this day forward, you are all my children. You all and your descendants or chosen heirs shall have my blessings and be under my protection.”

“What about God, like the real god?” Hinkley interrogated.

“Which god?”

“God with capital G. God from the bible.”

“Ah yes, Yahweh. They have chosen to abstain from interfering in human affairs. The rest of us are unhindered by such vows.”

“The rest of us?” that was Aaron again.

“There are thousands of gods, though most only reveal themselves to their followers.”

“This all makes perfect sense,” drawled McHenry. 

“Yes it does,” scoffed Berkely.

“Why?” James interrupted.

“The dove,” Mielikki said, as if that were the obvious answer.

“What?”

“You returned the dove’s child to her, without your help it would have died. For your kindness, you and your comrades should be rewarded.”

“So you killed a bunch of Nazis and took us all in as your kids?” 

“Well yes,” Mielikki looked rather sheepish, “I honestly never liked the Nazis, you lot gave a reason to rid the world of them.”

“Thank you,” James said, he meant it.

Mielikki pat his head affectionately, “And thank you, my child.”