Elvie Yundt

“The captain saluted and left, and Alix heard him shouting orders to men to form a firing squad and then orders for the prisoners to be brought out and lined up. There seemed to be some kind of altercation going on. Someone was protesting vocally.
‘I am a British airman and I demand to be treated as a prisoner of war!’
The sound of the voice struck her somewhere in the middle of her chest and she jumped to her feet and ran out of the house. A ragged line of prisoners was drawn up on the far side of the clearing with a dozen Partisans carrying rifles facing them. Her eyes went along the line. Every face was heavily bearded, unrecognisable at a distance, but then a difference in the way the men were dressed struck her. All wore tunics that had some suggestion of a uniform but on one man the trousers that protruded below it, though ragged and faded, were unmistakably Air Force blue.
‘Ready!’ shouted the captain. ‘Take aim.’
‘No!’ Alix tore across the clearing and flung herself between the firing line and the prisoners. ‘No! I know this man! He is an American, but with the British RAF. He is not an enemy.’
‘Not an enemy?’ the captain queried. ‘Then what is he doing fighting alongside the Chetniks?’
‘I don’t know,’ Alix said breathlessly. ‘But you can’t shoot him without finding out. If you shoot a British serviceman you could jeopardise any help we might get.’
The captain looked uneasy. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘We’ll let Comrade Tito decide about this.’ He called to one of the men guarding the prisoners. ‘Bring that man over here. The one who’s been causing all the trouble.’
The man in the blue trousers was shoved roughly forward.
‘Alix!’ he gasped hoarsely. ‘Thank god!’
She caught hold of his arm. ‘Steve? It is you, isn’t it?’
‘What’s left of him,’ he responded, with an effort at a smile.
 ”
― Holly Green, A Call to Home

“Cairo. An inter-services game of cricket was in progress in the lush grounds behind him as Powell made his way through the grand portal of the Gezira Sporting Club. It was a hot and humid day and Powell was dripping with sweat. A fellow officer had given him a lift for part of the way but he had had to walk the last mile. Uniformed Egyptian attendants bowed and guided him through the lobby towards the bar, where he could see his host with a drink already in hand.”
― Mark Ellis, The French Spy

“I already have the three things I require to be successful. The Holy Bible, Iris Livermore, and a mirror.”
― Diane L. Kowalyshyn, Double Cross

“My crystals call to me. You cannot leave without counting your crystals, the internal voice beckons. No. I retaliate against the thought. Garrison, Bryce, Thornton, and Rigel are gone, counting the crystals will not bring them back.”
― Tricia Copeland, To Be a Fae Queen