When Nasty returned from the hospital she picked up the phone and dialed the number of her parents, but this time she was much more careful than before the 'Prague Incident'.

"Hello Mommy, we didn't hear from you for a few weeks and I thought it would be nice to call you... Yes, I know Mom... No, the weather is fine here. It's hot, though we do have those chilly winds from the mountains... You probably have a lot of tourists too, what's the water like around Stralsund? Dirty? That's a shame. Dad's busy? Good, now it's the peak season for construction works... Yeah, Hillbilly's busy too, today he’s got thirty-or-so people for rafting.”

Our brave little girl carefully approached the delicate news: "...Actually, I don't have much work now, the old batch of conscripts have just finished their training and the new recruits haven’t arrived yet. Besides that, I'm on vacation right now... Yeah Mom, I would like to come, but... I'm on sick leave actually, I had a little accident. Noooo…please Mommy, it's not worth mentioning. I wouldn't have told you if I thought you'd be so upset... Mom, listen to me! It's nothing, there's no reason for concern! Just a twisted ankle... No, Mommy I'm fine, really. I got a cast, yeah, but I'm hobbling around and next week I'll go back to work. You don't need to come here, I'm absolutely OK, I've told you! Mommy, I have to go now, I must make a lunch for Hillbilly. Of course I'm cooking, who told you that? Pizza Sizziliana and tomato salad. No, it's easy. I'll pick the tomatoes from our garden, slice them, then put olive oil, vinegar and salt on them. Then I'll take the pizza out from freezer and stick it in the oven. Simple, isn't it?"

Nasty was almost certain her mother won't come, but she had to emphasise it again. "Really Mom, you don't need to worry about me. I just slipped on the stairs, not worth mentioning. So tell me, what's going on in Greifswald? Yeah, I see... What a shit... I've told you, that mayor is a moron par excellence. Who needs another supermarket? Well, I don't think he was bribed, but you never know... Don't always believe the newspapers, Mom... Yeah, I don't really care actually... Hey, tell me something about you. How's Grandpa? Fine... What?! Uli's in a cast too?! What happened?"

"Your poor sister has undergone another operation on her leg, the doctors removed some pins and screws," explained Nasty’s concerned mother. "Good Lord, why do those poor daughters of mine have to suffer so much?!"

"C'mon Mommy, you’re exaggerating now," laughed Nasty. "Uli's smart, rich and beautiful, I should envy her if she wasn't my only sister. She's not suffering that much, and I'm absolutely fine too. I'll call her and cheer her up a little, but you have to promise me not to cry any more. Please... I love you, Mommy, bye."

Nasty breathed a huge sigh of relief as she hung up the phone, then she remembered her sister's car crash two years ago. Uli described it to her without much self-regret. It was quite a horrific accident, but nothing compared to some war stories Grandpa Gottlieb had told the girls...

***

Uli was returning from a fancy and snobbish dinner held by the 'German Society for Commercial and Financial Law' in some expensive old restaurant about 50 kilometers from Dresden. It was a full moon and the country road was empty, so she pushed harder on the gas pedal of her sports cabriolet BMW Z8. As was later revealed in the investigation, she was traveling at well over 200 kilometers per hour when she entered a hairpin turn. The yellow machine lost contact with the road and the powerful engine whined as the wheels cut through the fresh night air. The landscape where Ulrike was driving that night was flat and open, heathery marshland without any trees... except one lonely old birch about a dozen meters off the road…

Ulrike slowly raised her beautiful head from collapsing airbag - which undoubtedly saved her life - and leaned back into her seat. Psychedelic little pinwheels were spinning in her eyes, and her nose was bleeding heavily down her ivory white evening dress. The inner sides of her forearms ached as they were bruised and burnt from the expanding airbag. After a few seconds of frightening silence, the CD player found the lost track and the military chorus from her CD began again with gusto. The music raged in Uli’s battered head, and she reached the radio with her shaking hand and turned it off. Then she moved her left hand to open the door. A sharp pain flashed from her wrist through her whole left hand and arm, and when it seemed it would diminish, it returned with all its force.

"That’ll be broken," thought Uli.

She was a bit dizzy and her wrist was stinging, but that seemed to be all that was wrong. Nevertheless young manageress decided it's time to call for some help, so she used her voice-dialing mobile phone: "ADAC!" A few seconds later an operator from the largest German Automobile Association answered politely.

"ADAC Dresden speaking, how can we help?"

"Um, hm... I had a little accident," blurted Ulrike.

"Is your car suitable for driving?"

"I don't think it ever will be..."

"Can you tell me where it happened?"

Ulrike garbled her directions from the fancy restaurant towards Dresden and concluded: "...You won't miss it, I guess it's the only fucking tree for miles around. And my car is bright yellow, it will shine in the moonlight… Yellow car, white birch, red blood, that's so niiiiice..."

Only then did the operator realize that it was something more serious than a flat tyre. "Ma'am are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"I am. At least I think I should be..." mumbled Uli.

"Fuckin' shit..." she suddenly leaned her right hand onto her leg where the slit of her dress revealed her knee, and there was something warm and wet. When she had risen her hand, blood was clearly visible, although it looked more pink than red in the silver moonlight.

The operator could be heard down the phone yelling to someone: "Karl, send the ambulance there, we have casualties!"

Uli looked down at her legs again and realized that her right shin and left foot were firmly trapped in the smashed remains of her car. Her shaking hand reached for her blood-covered leg again and she began to feel the sickening movement of bone fragments. Her fingers touched something hard and sharp sticking from her knee. “A part of the dashboard,” she thought as she pulled it free. In the moonlight she looked again more closely. It wasn't a splinter of the dashboard, it was a piece of her bone…a piece of herself. Uli passed out.

The first thing Ulrike noticed when she opened her pale blue eyes was a smiling girl with short, bright green hair. Then she spotted the crispy white sheets, then the bottles hanging over her head running through tubes into her right forearm. Soon she looked down at her legs, and was shocked by what she saw. Her right leg was elevated in traction, with a huge frame of metal rods surrounding the whole limb from her thigh to her shin. Uli noticed a few thick rubber tubes, which disappeared into the frame and under her skin. Her eyes then wandered further right, and then Uli noticed that her right foot and ankle were thickly bandaged in a plaster cast splint as well.

Uli recognized the green-haired babe as her younger sister.

"Hey Sis, how are you?" soothed Nasty with a relieved smile.

"How should I be?!" moaned Uli. "What... happened?"

"You were in a car crash and you hit a tree head-on. Do you remember anything?"

"How… I mean, why did that happen?" groaned Uli groggily.

"Um… I think you were a little bit drunk," blushed Nasty.

"Impossible, I only had a little champagne." Uli shook her head.

"Only a little glass of champagne?" asked Nasty.

"I think it was a little bottle, maybe a little of a second too… Damn."

Nasty gently squeezed her sister's shoulder: "You don't need to worry now Uli, everything's gonna be alright. You were lucky to survive. You need to rest now."

"Lucky to survive... That's what people tell the hopeless cripple on whom many doctors will earn their degrees," Uli panicked.

Uli hastily began exploring her injuries. Her right arm was obviously fine except for the inserted IV's and a few minor bruises, so she lifted her left arm. It was covered with a plaster cast that ended just under her elbow and encased her thumb as well. ‘Broken scaphoid bone,’ thought Uli, remembering that type of the cast on her sister. The right leg had suffered, but it's still here after all. She didn't want to think about the different kinds of metal, rubber and God knows what else pierced into it. Uli built up her courage for a few seconds then moved her swollen - although still beautiful - toes. They responded well, although it caused a burning pain through her whole right leg.

"Shiiiit," sizzled Uli through tightly clenched teeth. "Well, at least I'm not paralyzed... Hey, where's my left leg?!"

After a moment’s panic her leg came out from under the sheets, covered with the short leg cast. Thankfully she wiggled her left toes. Nevertheless, her left foot also started to throb immediately after such rough treatment.

"Shhh Sis, calm down," Nasty lightly stroked her sister's blonde hair. "Don't move too much. You've broken several bones, but you don't have any life threatening injuries. You will recover in a couple of months."

"Every fuckingbelievable part of my body hurts," pouted Uli. "I've done so bad." A few tears began to run down her cheek.

"Uli my dearest, no tears." Nasty held on, murmuring comforting words and gently rubbing Uli's back. "Hey, brave babe, don't cry... Remember Zbarazh, remember Kamienec!"

"Zbarazh... That's where pan Podbipienta had fallen," Uli's lower lip quivered and she blinked rapidly.

"Only in the novel Hon," warmly smiled Nasty and hugged her sister's shaking shoulders. "Only in the novel. But the heroic deeds of flying hussars will never die in the eternal hall of fame. And you'll meet your pan Podbipienta in Valhalla someday."*

"Yeah, someday," sighed Uli. "Please Sis, be honest with me. How bad is it? Lucky to be alive, I already heard that, but..."

At that moment Doctor Grönemeyer entered the room and saved Nasty a lot of explanation. He was an elderly man, small and fat, but likable. Everyone could immediately see that he really cared for his patients, sparing neither his time nor his effort.

"And how is our young lady at last," asked Doctor Grönemeyer with a warm fatherly smile.

"Could be better, but I'm not complaining," replied Ulrike.

The doctor took his stethoscope from his pocket and checked Uli's vital signs. He took a quick glance on the bed monitor before adjusting a few of the infusion devices. Then he started to examine the external fixators and other hardware on Uli's right leg.

"May I ask you something," Uli interrupted the silence. "I want to know... how bad my injuries are. Will I be able to walk again? Please spare me no details, doctor."

"Well young lady," the doctor took off his horn-rimmed glasses, "you have probably already realized that you have suffered some very severe trauma, but we are doing our best for your recovery. If there aren’t any complications and everything goes to plan you should walk almost normally. Would you like all the details?"

"Please, doctor," nodded Ulrike impatiently.

"Well then, we should go from bottom up," started the doctor. "Your right ankle was broken in three places - not too severely - but we had to fix it with seven pins and a metal plate." As he said this he pointed at Uli's casted and bandaged ankle with his pencil.

"Next, you suffered a compound - or open - fracture of your right tibia and fibula, which are the two bones in your lower leg. We classify compound tibia fractures in three grades, and yours is in the second grade, which still means it is relatively easy. An intramedular titanium rod was inserted in your tibia through its entire length, and you can see there the drainage tubes which are used for removing any excess blood and liquid from the wound."

"That doesn't sound very good," Uli sighed. "Will I... have a short leg or something?"

"No, we preserved the length of your tibia and although it is a serious injury, your shin should heal completely if there aren’t any complications. The worst injuries are the compound fractures of your knee. The distal part of your femur – that is, the lower end of your thighbone in other words – is broken in three places. We call it a 'Y' fracture, and I won't deny it's a nightmare for every orthopedic surgeon. Your patella, or kneecap, was completely shattered and we have already removed it."

"Can I live without it?" asked Uli, who was getting whiter by the minute.

"The patella isn't completely necessary in the leg, and in the case of severe breaks it can - and must - be removed. What happens is the knee extension tendons of your lower leg and your thigh are stitched together directly with one another," explained the doctor. "A loss of the range of movement in your knee to some degree is inevitable, especially when coupled to such a severe femur epiphysis fracture."

After a short pause the doctor touched the superstructure of metal rods around Uli's knee and continued: "First we thought about fixing your knee straight, but since you are young and strong, we decided to try external fixation first. This metal frame is connected by pins and nails inserted directly into your bones to keep the bone fragments in place while the soft tissue is healing. This causes the absolute minimum of irritation around the fracture site, which is helped by these drainage tubes. So far there aren’t any signs of infection, so I am hoping we can proceed with an operation in a week or two. During this we will fix your femur with screws and metal plates, restore the knee ligaments as much as possible and close the wound."

"Thank you very much doctor, I really do appreciate your effort," whispered Uli. "You think I'll be able to walk again after all this mess? I mean – normally – without crutches or a cane?"

"It's really too early to say anything," replied the doctor, "but after all these days without complications..."

"Days???" gasped Uli.

"Yes Sis," shrugged Nasty. "you crashed on Friday night and now it's Tuesday afternoon. You were unconscious for almost four days."

"Fuckin' son of a bitch, I didn't realize at all," blurted Uli. "Holy shit. Well, it happens... Please continue doctor, and excuse me for cursing."

"As I said, there are no complications like infection, blood clotting and so on, which is most important. Your wounds are healing fine so I hope you will pull through relatively well. But don't build up too much hope. As your knee joint was still severely damaged and there's nothing we could do, we are just preserving what's left of your bones and ligaments. Nevertheless, you will be able to walk without sticks, with minimal, if any limping. I'm afraid your knee flexion and extension range will be reduced by at least half."

"Well, some good news and some bad news," moaned Uli. "I'll have to accept that, there's nothing else to do... What do you think, Sis?"

"I'm very sorry for you, my poor Ulrike," sighed Nasty, "but I think you'll manage. We Baranowski's know how to clench our teeth."

"Yeah, we do. Fuckin' Zbarazh! You have some more bad news for me, doctor?"

"I'm sorry to tell you but most sports like skiing, jogging, tennis, basketball and so on are out of the question for you for the rest of your life," said the doctor in a solemn tone.

Uli accepted the truth extraordinary well: "I had to play tennis and squash with our business partners for career reasons, but I hate them both. I won't miss them really. The only sport I care about is horse riding and I think I could still sit in the saddle after all this..."

"I hope you will," the doctor nodded cheerfully, "I'm glad to see that the courage hasn't left you, young lady. That's very important for your recovery. Believe me, you will walk and ride again. We just need time, let's say six to eight months."

"Huh, I'll need a lot of courage," moaned Uli. "But what else can I do? What about my other leg?"

"You've broken several metacarpal bones in your foot, but it's an easy break. We can treat it conservatively without an operation. You'll get rid of that cast in a month or so," the doctor told her. "Besides that, you've broken the scaphoid bone in your left wrist. That's not a serious break either, although you'll have to wear your arm cast for six weeks at least. You also suffered several bruises and other minor wounds, but they are not worth mentioning compared to your other injuries."

"You're right. Doctor, thank you very much again for your candidness. I hate uncertainty most of all."

"Don't worry Sis, I'll be by your side," promised Nasty. "I'll be with you all the time, whenever you need me."

Uli blinked with wet eyes: "Thanks, Nasty." The blinking increased as she battled to keep the tears in. "You, my silly little sister, are the only person I can rely upon. I know you will, whatever... Sorry, I have to cry, I hope Podbipienta won't be angry..." Uli apologized before those bottled up tears broke out at last.

*NOTE

We already know that both Baranowski girls are pagans. Their family name discloses more important information, they are of Polish ancestry (although their family has lived in Germany for centuries), and this is not just any old ancestry either. In the  University library in Krakow a blazonry book from the 16th century is kept, in which there can be found a coat-of-arms with an argent ram's head on the azure shield ('baran' means ram in Polish) . It belonged to the small and modest, but brave family of Baranowski's from castle Baranowiec near Tarnopol in modern day Ukraine.

Both of our babes are very proud of their roots in free Polish nobility (or szlachta) although Uli stresses her blue blood much more often than Nasty. When they were children, they read all the books by the famous Polish novelist Henryk Sienkiewicz, describing brave knights and their admired Ladies from the golden days of mediaeval Poland. They were soon completely poisoned with stories of heroic battles against Cossacks and Tartars, Swedes and Turks, and they both liked to use citations, examples and parables from those novels in everyday life. The defense of Prince Wisznowiecki's fortress ‘Zbarazh’ in the Polish-Cossack war of 1649 is an example of desperate struggle against the overwhelming odds, an example of how to defeat death through destiny.