A/N: Hello everyone! This will be my first fanfic in a while. I am well aware how old this fandom is, but this movie is and remains one of my favorites. I am inspired by it! So I'm writing again. This first chapter will be a long one, but here goes! Of couse I don't own any of this, Tarantino does.

Her lips were chapped from dehydration. A sand crack had started in her mare's hoof, and while it didn't hurt Winnie, Ella had to be careful and ride fewer hours each day to make sure it didn't get worse. She couldn't sleep at night for fear of being ambushed, or attacked by some wild animal. She had ditched her saddle ages ago, since it had gotten so hot. Winnie preferred bareback, Ella could tell, but it was hard on Ella's body. She carried her bedroll on her back, along with the food she had been saving and foraging.

But she had to go on. She had nowhere to go.

Ella's eyes were closed when Winnie shied and snorted. She jerked awake to come face-to-face with what she first thought was a wildman. His hair was long and tangled, and his clothes were torn and hanging loosely on his body. What made her pause was the blood seeping from a wound on his throat, as if someone had tried to hang him - and failed.

He held a finger to his lips, his eyes desperate. For a moment, Ella did nothing, stunned by the sight of this terrified man. He reminded her of her father.

She jumped again, this time from the sound of men crashing through the trees behind her. Shouts and branches breaking broke her stupor, and Ella turned to look at the wildman again. "Hide!"

He hesitated, and she knew he didn't trust her, but what choice did this man have? He must have reached the same conclusion because he shimmied up one of the thick trees and pulled the leaves around him.

Three men skidded to a stop in front of Ella. Winnie snorted again, dancing in place a little. There were way too many people showing up for the mare to be entirely comfortable.

"You lookin for a man with blood on his neck?" she said, drawing their attention away from anything else.

"What d'you care?" the first man grunted, out of breath.

"I don't. I just saw him go that way." She pointed to her left. "Damn near spooked my mare to throwin -"

"Let's go," the man interrupted, not caring one way or the other what else Ella said. They took off again, forgetting about her in their pursuit of the wildman. Ella watched them go until they were out of sight. She looked up into the branches, and it took her a second to find the wildman. At least he had hidden himself well.

The branches crackled as he started to climb. Halfway down, a thin branch broke under him and he fell flat-backed to the ground. Ella sighed and dismounted, tying Winnie's reins at her shoulder. She dug her canteen out of her bedroll, freshly filled from a creek that she had passed not an hour earlier, and knelt next to the wildman.

"Fresh. From the creek. Can you sit up?" Ella put a hand under his shoulder and gave him a push when he tried. He slouched over forward, his breathing harsh. Once she was sure he was upright, she unscrewed the cap and held the canteen to his lips.

"I got it," the man huffed, snatching the canteen.

"You're welcome," Ella snapped back.

"Who're you?" the man sputtered, his voice rough, gasping after a long pull of water.

"Ella. Who're you?" she retorted. "Not like I just saved your life or anything."

"I know." He took another swallow of the water, wincing. Ella stood up and went to Winnie, stroking her face.

"What did you do? They lynch you?"

The man just looked up at her. Ella had meant for it to be a joke, but suddenly she realized they actually had tried to lynch him.

After a moment, he cleared his throat and spoke. "I killed the sheriff's son."

Ella cocked her head at him. "Why?"

The wildman looked up at her and chuckled, which turned into a hacking cough. He stifled it with water. "You're the first person to not run to the authorities. I loved his daughter. We was gonna run off. Her brother beat the shit out of her when he learnt. Broke her to pieces, he did. So I killed the sum'bitch. She heard what I did and sent me a letter sayin' she never wanted to see me again. So I guess I can't go back there no more."

Ella knelt next to him again. "S'okay. I killed the men that killed my Papa. Sometimes, if someone did something really, really, wrong, they deserve to die, too." She took the canteen back and drank some herself. The wildman's accent was strong, and Ella guessed he had grown up here in the mountains.

"How old're you, Ella?"

"Fifteen. From Bell County, Kentucky. Where are we?"

"You ain't got no idea where you are?"

"I've just been riding. I let Winnie take me."

"We're outside Maynardville, Tennessee. You say they killed your Pa. Where's your mama?"

"Dead from fever. Seven years ago. You never gave me your name, wild man."

"Wild man? That's a good one," he chuckled again. "Aldo Raine. Now we better get outta here 'fore they come back and kill us both. Ella what?"

"Ella Demski." Aldo Raine was suspicious of Ella, no doubt. After what had just happened to him, though, she was not surprised.

"You Scandanavian?" Aldo stood up, bent over, his hands on his knees.

"Polish, English, Cherokee." She went back to Winnie and looked for a stump to mount up on. "You okay, Mr. Raine?"

"I'll be fine. Just gotta catch my breath, is all." He stood tall, trying his hardest not to move his neck. The wound was starting to scab. It wasn't deep, but it was rough, the skin torn by the rope they had thrown and tightened around his neck. It would probably scar. "Call me Aldo."

"All right, Aldo then."

"So, Miss Demski, where we headed?"


They spent a few years traversing the States, covering Tennessee and Kentucky, through Indiana and even into Chicago. Aldo taught Ella to shoot, and she taught him the little bit of French she knew. Aldo made money to add to the savings he had brought with, moonshining in the South, doing odd jobs and playing poker (to which Ella strongly objected) when they headed north, and Ella read every book and newspaper she could get her hands on, becoming familiar with the war and the Nazis that her father had scorned so often with bourbon on his breath. She integrated into the city well, much better than Aldo did. She could turn from Kentucky-born farm girl to Socialite in seconds. She improved her French, to the point of fluency, and began on her German. Aldo had been getting mysterious letters lately, and Ella could assume why without having to ask him. He'd had military history without telling her, and he didn't have to. The second World War was starting to get worse, with Jews and Poles and all other sorts of people were being killed more and more each day. Clearly, the military wanted Aldo back.

One day, in 1942, four years after the two had met in the Tennessee mountains, Aldo came back from the post office to the cafe where Ella frequented in Louisville. She had a newspaper in her hands, as usual, and only looked up when he sat across from her.

"They want me to train in Montana. Special Forces, El. I told them I wasn't going without you."

Ella raised her eyebrows, folding up her newspaper. "Oh, really? And what did they say to that?"

"I just got the last letter. They said we'd better high-tail it out to Montana."

So they did.


The First Secret Service Force brought them to Helena, where Ella was brought into the military as a Private, on the insistence of Aldo. They must have needed him more than anyone, because after much deliberation, Ella became Private Demski. And it was one of the hardest times of her life. The training worked her nearly to death, jumping out of planes and training to become part of what was to be an elite regiment. They learned everything from parachuting and enemy weapons use to skiing and rock climbing on a strict schedule. She tried her damndest to keep up with the men; Colonel Frederick busted her ass harder than the most, but only because she had that much ground to make up. When the F.S.S.F., or Devil's Brigade, finished its training and made their way through Alaska and eventually prepared to invade Italy in 1943, Ella was made a supporting soldier. That meant she was only to be put into action if some of the Devil's Brigade were hurt, killed, or MIA. She fought tooth and nail against Colonel Frederick, going so far as to start the meeting she called to discuss her optioning with a slap to his face. If she were anyone else, she would have gone straight to a women's correctional facility.

"Goddamit, Colonel, you know damn well I'm better than half the men you got here and I don't give a flying fuck who you are, you can not pull me out now just because I'm a girl!" Ella stood before him in her uniform shirt and swing pants, her hands placed firmly on his desk, knocking over his letter opener on its stand.

The Colonel worked his jaw back and forth, staring angrily at Ella. "Private Demski, you would not be here if it were not for me. We will bring you to Italy, to be sure, but this decision does not come down to me. I should have you arrested for such insubordination. Instead, I understand that you are one of the best soldiers I've got, and you will stay with us as long as I can manage. You are one ruthless bitch, and your time will come in this war. I know it. Keep studying your languages, become fluent in German, and I will see you on the plane." He paused, setting his letter opener upright again. "And if I were you, I would never lay a hand on a superior officer again. Once more will get you taken down."

She had left his office and retreated towards the barracks, frustrated tears forming in her eyes. She would not cry, not in front of her fellow soldiers, but she needed to find Aldo and tell him the situation.

"El?" he called from the flagpole. He had been taking a cigarette break, and Ella was relieved to see both him and his pack of smokes. She stomped over to him and took the offered cigarette, holding it with shaky fingers to her lips as he flicked his lighter open. She took a deep drag.

"I knew this would happen, Aldo. I knew it. I'm a reserve soldier. I'm going to Italy but I won't be doing anything. I'll be sittin' on my ass, waiting for someone to die or the war to end."

"Come on, El. I know the Colonel, and I'm sure he'll find something for you to do. Intelligence, or reconnaissance, or something. You're a smart girl. He knows that."

"Dammit, Aldo, I know, but I wanna kill some fuckin' Nazis! That's what we came here for! One of the last things I heard my father say was how if he was younger, he'd be taking back Poland himself. His parents were still there. They're not now, cause God knows they were useless in the Camps so they're gone, but I'm still here, and I didn't train for 14 hours a day for half a year and work my ass off to be put in a pretty dress and sent to pick up things from the General Store!"

"C'mere," Aldo said, taking her chin in his hand. "You are a damned good soldier, Ella. I know you deserve it. You're tougher than most of these guys here. You see the world different. I'll see to it myself that you make a difference in this war. Got it? You're my girl. I fuckin' promise you."

Half a smile appeared on her face. "You fuckin' better," she mumbled, dropping the butt of her cigarette and grinding it out. "I gotta go pack for Italy."

"Right behind you, girl."

A/N: A lot of history in this chapter! Look up the FSSF. Some real badasses, those guys! Feedback is appreciated! 3 Alex