[h1]Siberia[/h1]

	Fallen branches crunched under boots. A stillness enveloped the forest. Distant birds chirped as the crowns of trees swayed in a light breeze. For all intents and purposes, the world became alien. Uninhabited almost. If it were not for the thin line of armed men advancing from the south, behind them a slowly advancing column of surveyors it would be as if this were the last corner of the world untouched by man, let alone any form of civilization. Here could have been a last bastion of nature untouched. But here had once roamed the clans of the Tungusic peoples, of ancient primal Siberians. Here were woods that Russian fur trappers and hunters had infiltrated. Raw land that had been broken by the hooves of a Cossack's horse, or turned by the paws of a Cossack's hunting dog. While the weathering of the hills and valleys by cold rains and freezing snows and chilly misty spring melts washed away the footprints, the paw prints, and the hoof prints, where plants and new trees had sprouted and grown it was not land entirely unknown to man, or of man. It was not virgin. But it had conquered some of man's lingering remains thus far.

	There was a stillness and a silence among the squad that haunted Wu Hong. The group was wide spread, and difficult for any conversation. Though if the wind blew just right, and if the line was clear enough, and if there was little in the wall of a hill he thought he could hear the phantom of conversation from his sides. The other teams moving through the wooded wasteland, not too distant to be out of contact, but not so close to readily available. The entire situation, the daunting emptiness was foreign to him. It reminded him well that he was not where he belonged. He had grown up knowing people, where people were, and who they were. He perhaps had half that on his fellow squad mates, older veterans to be sure. The sort who certainly supported him, but he had not ventured for conversation. There was a half hope that things would be uneventful, he would return home a civilian again. Ready in the Imperialists ever invaded, able to defend home and country. But he never sought any greater role. And the greater will that put him there dawned on him in those forests and like them he was terrified of it. That somewhere in Beijing the scribbling out of a few words, a speech, and several signatures had wholly displaced him beyond where he had imagined he would go.

	[i]The Northern Army never did anything.[/i] But now it was proven false.

	“You ever been to a place like this?” someone spoke up, Yu Huan. The massive metal backpack he lugged around rocking back and forth with every step he took, becoming clumsy as they walked through grass as high as their knees, passed thick bushes, and over fallen timbers, sometimes under. At each step the clatter of the components clicking together could be heard, the receiver and head piece rattling against the forest green siding as it continuously shifted around. “This entire place, this entire country, is like some sort of story book.”

	“Oh, and what kind of story did you read?” Keung asked.

	“I was sort of thinking of the [i]Shui Hu Zhuan[/i].” the radio operator said, “I almost expect us to stumble into a marsh next.”

	“I don't fucking need that.” Lei responded, grumpily.

	“Well if this is the [i]Shui Hu Zhuan[/i] are you going to uproot a tree for us?” Keung said jokingly.

	“Why do that when it feels like I already am. Have I not proven myself?” Yu Huan said sarcastically. There was dry laughter between the men and they trudged along.

	“I'll tell you what, if we come across any mountains I'll be sure to name Ju Gan Song Jiang. It would seem almost fitting.” Keung remarked.

	The sergeant, walking ahead looked back at his men and shook his head. He said nothing and instead hoisted his rifle up higher and kept walking. It didn't stop the conversation.

	“Or you know, on the same thread perhaps these Russians were here to fight are like Song Jiang. Considered that? Maybe we'll beat them hard enough they'll acknowledge us as the good guys and join us in campaign.” Keung continued waywardly.

	“Who, pray tell would be the invaders we will fight as a single force?” asked Yu Huan.

	“Well, clearly the [i]Wokou[/i].” Keung explained, “It only makes sense. They invaded our country, and theirs. They are the invaders. It'll be a grand brotherly fight.”

	“You keep dreaming.” Lei bemoaned under the weight of his packs.

	“Am I not allowed to?”

	“Now when I don't want you to.”

	“You're not terribly fun.” Keung complained.

	“Neither is this conversation.”

	They stopped sometime passed mid-day. Yu Huan relieved himself of his radio and began the process of reporting in. Ju Gan and Cheng Bao joined him, helping out to try and come up with a rough idea on how long they had been walking and roughly deciding where their neighbors were in relation to their own march. It was a quiet conversation. The rest of the group was let to dig into the packs for their rations, a pre-cooked canned rice that had begun to congeal into a gelatin. It wasn't eaten with any point of pride, it got the job done.

	Finishing, they took the time to take inventory on what they had left. Still plenty, as they figured. It was in the end an excuse to stay seated and let their backs and feet rest. Those that needed to relieved themselves, and they collected their gear again and oriented themselves back into the woods and continued the hump deeper into the great forest.