As the Red Army began deploying over the Volga, a child in a winter coat with a short rifle slung over their shoulder watched on as men were hastily organised and prepared for war. The bombed out officers' outpost was pretty quiet, save for Alisa's commander discussing something important with somebody higher up in the chain of command. The message courier was tagging along with Lt. Andrei Petrovich, not really informed of what he was doing or where he was going. He simply needed someone to run errands, and that was Alisa's job.

"...That's a lot of soldiers." She told herself.

"Little one, come." Andrei beckoned as he started off into the ruined city once again. Alisa snapped back into life and dashed after the Lieutenant, taking her short rifle off it's sling in case it had to be used. The way home was through old pipelines, bombed out buildings and the like. These safer ways were used by ally and enemy, the battle lines not quite clear as they changed so damned often. Alisa had met more than one Soviet with a scoped rifle crawling around these ruins, drains, pipelines and debris-filled buildings. They were paths meant for the little messenger, as open ground would earn her a bullet in the brainpan, regardless of age or threat.