[color=8882be]Great, way to introduce yourself there Sigurd, if you don't kill her in a panic she'll die of a heart attack or be trampled with you by her panicking horse! [i]He looked away, and dropped his gun to his lap. He took several deep breaths to calm his own racing heart. This didn't have to end badly, but if he forgot his training and panicked, it could hardly end anyway other than very badly.[/i]Focus! What are you supposed to do when captured? Name and Rank, Don't tell anything that will get squad mates killed. That shouldn't be hard, as anything he knew would be out of date soon enough if the advance continued at it's current dizzyingly rapid rate.[/color]

[color=a0410d]"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I just don't want to die. Can you help me? My leg is broken, and my shoulder is hurt."[/color]

[color=8882be][i]Sigurd holstered his pistol, and pointed to his injuries. He hoped she could understand him... She seemed to understand at least his gestures. He watched her, wondering if he could trust her, slowly realizing he didn't really have a choice. He couldn't kill her, even if he had to now, so no matter what happened he'd have to trust her. He wasn't thrilled with that revelation, but it was better than trying to live with being a murderer. Sigurd tried to move his broken leg, so it wasn't twisted quite so grotesquely, and managed to get it into more or less the right orientation, before the pain broke through his mental barriers and swept him into unconsciousness as he sat back up. His torso just kept going straight back, his face suddenly relaxed after having been contorted in agony. His shoulders and head hit the turf and pack behind him respectively, his hand flopped limply to either side. He looked as if he might have just laid down for an afternoon nap, except for the bloody trouser leg and half packed parachute.[/i][/color]