Red Winter

22

We were still in the forest at nightfall. We left the place where the dog found us, covering our tracks as much as we could, and moved on. We alternated between riding and walking, giving Kashtan a break from time to time, and the dog kept up with us.

For Anna, the dog was a reminder of her father and their time at the farm, a place where they were safe for a while. For me, he was a reminder of what followed in our wake. Anna’s reasoning had been good – it was possible that the men following us had been confused by our trail and become lost while the dog had passed them by, but I was still concerned he might have led the riders to us. They might be hanging back, waiting for a better time to make their attack. If it were me, I might wait until we were out in the open, or I might come in the night when my quarry was asleep. Or perhaps I would split my men, try to get some of them ahead so that we could attack from multiple sides.

With those thoughts in my mind, we went on. Even as the darkness filled the forest, we went on. There was almost no light, the cloud too thick to allow the moon to provide for us, and still the mist endured, but we went on and on, because every hour I was not with my wife and children was an hour in which they might be branded with that red star.

When Anna was too tired to put one foot in front of the other, I lifted her onto Kashtan’s back and walked alongside her, but there came a time when I, too, was exhausted, so I finally decided to stop.

It was too dangerous to light a fire, so Anna and I sat close together, wedged between the protruding roots of a giant maple. I kept the revolver close to hand and pulled the blankets over us for added heat, while Kashtan stood by and the dog came to curl beside me. I was thankful for his warmth and his vigilance – between them, he and Kashtan were excellent guards – and when he put his chin on my knee, I was glad Anna had stopped me from shooting him.

I didn’t sleep much. Not much more than snatches. Every sound in the forest had me peering into the darkness. Every time the dog twitched and looked up, I did the same. When I did close my eyes, I had an agonising vision of Marianna and Misha and Pavel, backing away from a branding iron in the shape of a five-pointed star. Or of my brother’s face, sullied with a dusting of soil. Or of Lev lying by the tree, thrown from his horse.

On one occasion, the dog growled, an ugly sound deep in his throat, and I sat up straight, gripping the revolver, widening my eyes, trying to see into the misty gloom, but the night was silent except for the creak of a bough or the rattle of a falling twig. Something small scurried in the darkness, a quick scampering of tiny feet, and the dog growled again, so I put my hand on his head and rubbed his soft fur.

‘Good boy,’ I whispered, ‘but it’s just a rabbit or something. Nothing more than that.’

Anna stirred beside me. ‘Are you awake?’

‘Yes.’

She said nothing for a while and then, ‘What’s going to happen to me?’

‘I’ll keep you safe.’

‘But… later.’

‘I’ll keep you safe,’ I said again. ‘For as long as you want.’

‘I wish Papa was here.’

‘So do I.’ I had liked Lev, he was warm and kind-spirited. He and I would have become good friends in a time when friends were a rarity.

‘Thank you for saving the dog,’ she said.

‘We should give him a name.’

‘Like what?’

‘I’m no good at thinking of things like that.’ Marianna would have chosen a good name. Perhaps a character from one of her skazkas. ‘We had a cat when I was a boy. Well, it was my brother’s really. Vaska.’

‘It was called Vaska?’ Anna turned to look up at me and I put my arm around her.

‘Mm-hmm. He was beautiful. Black as soot and so quiet you’d step on him before you realised he was there. He knew how to catch a mouse too. Mama used to hate him leaving those things on the step and she used to shout at Alek – that’s my brother – so that you could hear her from the other end of the village. Papa said he was so ashamed when he heard her yelling that he’d have to leave the village and never come back.’ I smiled to myself.

‘Where’s your brother now?’

‘Gone,’ I said, disappointed not to dwell longer on the memory.

‘And the cat?’

‘Who knows. He went missing a long time ago, but I always thought he’d be fine. He knew how to survive – he was half wild anyway. Mama said he probably moved in with some witch out there in the forest.’ I looked down at Anna when I said it, hoping I hadn’t scared her.

‘Is Vaska a good name for a dog?’

‘I don’t know. Probably not. I don’t know any good names for a dog. Anyway, maybe he already has one.’

‘He can’t tell us what it is, though,’ she said.

‘Maybe we should just call him Dog. It’s easy to remember.’

Anna didn’t comment, so we sat without speaking, all three of us pressed together between the roots of the tree. The breeze picked up, swaying the branches overhead, creaking the primeval boughs and moaning as it vibrated the brushwood. Kashtan nickered and snorted, and the dog lifted his head to listen, a short whine escaping him as he pushed harder against me. None of us wanted to be so far from comfort.

The wind swept the clouds from the sky, revealing a half-moon and allowing its light to flood into the forest. It filtered through the twisted fingers above us, and I looked down at Anna beside me, her face small and pale, moonlight glittering in her eyes.

‘You think you can walk some more?’ I asked.

‘Yes.’

I was glad to be moving again. I was tired, but I wanted to press on towards Dolinsk and hoped I would find some clue as to where Koschei had gone. I didn’t know why he was heading north; most of the Cheka units in this area would be heading towards Tambov rather than away from it. Like Commander Orlov, their orders would be to crush the rebellion, and yet Tanya and Lyudmila had said that Koschei was heading north. Always north. I hoped that was still the case; that he hadn’t turned in a different direction, leaving us to follow a false trail. I needed to find some civilisation now, some way of knowing if I was still heading the right way.

As we moved, I reflected on Commander Orlov’s words, seeing how his eyes had been opened to the chaos, just as mine had. His escape had been on a different path from the one I intended to take, but his words had put an idea in my head; one that showed me a hint of what my future might be. To find somewhere quiet, a place where the eyes of the world might overlook me. Before that could happen, though, I had to escape my pursuers and find Marianna and the boys. As Orlov had said, they were the most important thing now, and without them I was nothing but the soldier I no longer wanted to be. Father and husband were the roles I saw in my new future, but it was the soldier who could make them happen.

Stanislav’s comrade had said something, however, that troubled me. I had tried to put it out of mind, but it scratched at my subconscious, from somewhere beyond coherent thought, and I couldn’t help returning to it over and over again. He had said that Nikolai Levitsky made Koschei, that I had made him. I contemplated on how that was possible and the only explanation that came to me was linked to the name Commander Orlov had given me. Or rather, a name he had mentioned.

Krukov.

If any man I knew bore any resemblance to Koschei, it was Krukov, and if it was he who had murdered the old men of Belev and taken the women and children away, then Stanislav might have been right. Perhaps I was responsible for him in some way. And perhaps the men of Belev would still be alive if Alek and I had not deserted. We had been in the same unit as Krukov and would have steered him away from Belev without him even coming close to it.

That was a notion that wrapped itself round my heart and squeezed hard. That I could be to blame for my family’s fate was beyond anything I could live with. If I discovered it to be true, and if my family lost their lives because of it, would I want to take the path that Commander Orlov had chosen?

But when I looked at Anna, I knew I had another responsibility. I could no longer choose the path that was best for me; I had to take the one that was best for both of us.