[color=8882be][i]Struggling to crawl along the ground and get the chute packed again, Sigurd failed to notice the sound a horse trotting towards him over the soft ground. At the sound of her greeting, instinct kicked in, and he rolled over onto his back, pulling his cherished Browning Hi-Power, won at a poker table from a less fortunate German paratrooper, and aiming it the woman sitting on the horse. Adrenaline drowned out most of the pain, and he gritted his teeth against the rest. His heart pounded in his chest and his breath came more and more rapidly, as memories flashed through his brain, of friends lost in Spain. The pistol is shaking slightly, but with a grimace Sigurd steadies the gun by sitting up, and bracing it with his left hand. The fact that it was a woman stayed his finger, but only just, his terror was nearly enough to wash aside all reason. Sigurd began shouting in German, his native tongue.[/i][/color]

[color=a0410d]"Show me your hands! Get down!"[/color]

[color=8882be][i]Hearing the sound of his own voice, and it's volume, Sigurd glances around fearful of having attracted others to him. Not seeing anyone he turns his focus back to the woman and her horse, he motions with his pistol for her to get down, in short jerky motions. Sigurd continues instructing her in German, though in a more conversational tone, though it's still tense.[/i][/color]

[color=a0410d]Please get down. I don't want to shoot you, but I will if I have to. Don't scream, don't run, just get down please.[/color]