The Child Thief

34

I watched Yuri’s laboured breaths until he was still. He didn’t speak again, and when he was dead, I left him exactly as he was, open-eyed and slack-jawed.

I buried Petro in the place where he had fallen to the child thief’s bullet and spent the night in a rough shelter, close to my youngest son for the last time.

At dawn I headed home to Vyriv, following the tracks of Viktor’s horse, coming to the rise overlooking the village, where among the trees I found my living son. Aleksandra and Dariya stood close to him, but there were others there too. Evgeni, Dimitri, and those who had been freed from the column of prisoners.

I spoke to none of them. I came into the trees and walked among them, going to Dariya. I got down on my knees in front of her and put my hands on her shoulders.

‘He’s dead,’ I said. And I pulled her to me and held her for a long time.