Dan Smith - Red Winter

‘I’m going to take them to the edge of the forest,’ I told Anna. ‘To bury them. It may take a little while.’ I glanced over at the izba . There was a glow at the window and it would be warm inside.

Anna saw me looking and began to shake her head. ‘Don’t leave me.’ There was desperation in her voice. ‘Please don’t make me go—’

‘I want you to come with me,’ I said, removing one glove and putting my hand to the side of her face. ‘I won’t let you out of my sight.’ It was the only choice I had. I couldn’t leave her out here in the barn, and though it would be warm in the house, I couldn’t send her inside to be alone with the old woman, the mother of the man she had helped kill.

Anna’s relief was clear. Her shoulders slumped and she closed her eyes, releasing her breath.

‘Come on,’ I said, putting my glove back on. ‘You can bring the tools.’

I gave her an axe and a shovel from the back of the barn and we went to the wrapped tarpaulin at the far end of the yard. I took the end in both hands and walked backwards, dragging it through the gate, to the edge of the trees.

Anna walked beside me while Tuzik followed, and when I broke the ground with the axe and dug a shallow grave, they watched in silence, Tuzik sitting motionless, Anna standing beside him with one hand on his head.

As I dug, I remembered how I done the same thing for my brother not long ago. I had broken the ground as the sleet came down, and the two women had watched from shelter. It occurred to me that I knew so very little about them.

When the grave was deep enough, I checked their pockets, removing all papers and belongings and putting them in my satchel. Then I rolled them into the hole to lie side by side under the trees. They looked small and insignificant like that, as if they didn’t matter. I wondered who would miss them or if they’d even know they were gone.

The cold, black, rich soil was like heavy rain on their clothes as I shovelled it onto them, and when all I could see were their dead, white faces, I paused. I closed my eyes and touched the chotki round my wrist. I said a small prayer and wished them luck wherever they were going, then I threw the last of the soil over them and they were gone.

When we returned to the house, Oksana and her children were at the rear of the izba . Sergei and the old woman were at the table.

I stopped in the doorway, Anna beside me. Tuzik pushed past, coming into the warmth, and grunted as he lay down. He kept his head up and opened his mouth. The sound of his breathing filled the room.

I scanned the izba , my eyes meeting Oksana’s, but Sergei and the old woman kept their heads bowed.

‘We’ll take some of your food,’ I said, going to the cupboard, ‘but not everything.’

I gathered some pickles, bread, sausage, kovbyk and a hessian bag filled with sunflower seeds. I stuffed what I could into my pockets and handed down supplies for Anna to carry.

‘What will you do now?’ Oksana’s voice was quiet and husky, but it took us all by surprise.

I stopped with my hand still in the cupboard and turned to look at her. Tuzik was on his feet immediately. Anna inched closer to me.

‘Just leave?’ Oksana asked.

‘Yes.’

‘And do what?’

‘Look for my wife and sons.’ It wasn’t Oksana’s fault. She had not been responsible for her husband’s madness, had even tried to warn us, but I couldn’t hide the animosity in my voice. She was connected to him and he was no longer here to accept my anger.

‘What about Anna?’ She looked at the girl, who now moved so she was partly behind me. ‘What will happen to her?’

‘She’ll come with me.’ I took my arm from the cupboard and put it down to shield Anna.

Oksana took two hesitant steps towards us and stopped. She ran her hands down her apron. ‘With you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Winter is almost here. How long do you think it will—’

‘As long as it takes.’

She clasped her hands together, a troubled look on her face. ‘It’s no place for a young girl, out there in the cold with a man like you.’

‘A man like me?’

‘At least let her stay here for now. Come back when you’ve—’

‘She’s coming with me,’ I said.

‘But we can feed her, keep her warm. It’ll be so cold soon; the snow has already started. You have to let her stay.’

‘Do I?’

‘She’s just a child.’

‘She’s stronger than you think, and she knows her own mind.’ I looked at Anna. ‘What do you want to do?’ I asked her.

‘You were his wife,’ Anna said, looking at Oksana. ‘And she was his mama.’ She pointed at the old woman without taking her eyes off Oksana. ‘I’m not staying here. Not with you. I don’t want anything from you. I want to be with Kolya.’

Oksana lowered her head and tightened her mouth and nodded once. She didn’t speak again. She went back to her own children as we finished gathering what we needed.

Anna and I took a fair amount of what we found, leaving Oksana and her family enough to survive. Then we left the izba , with Tuzik following on our heels.

We went to the barn, and I lit a lamp and eased down to sit on a pile of straw and lean against the wall. My whole body ached and it was good to take the weight off my feet. I wanted to put my head back and close my eyes, but didn’t dare, in case I fell asleep.

Anna sat beside me, stretching out her legs, and Tuzik came to lie along the side of them. Kashtan and the other two horses watched us as they chewed the hay Anna had put out for them earlier.

‘How are you feeling?’ I asked her.

‘I’m all right.

‘You sure? What you did—’

‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘Doesn’t it hurt?’

‘Don’t worry about me.’ I put a hand to my nose, feeling the dried blood and realising what a mess I was. ‘It probably looks worse than it is.’ When I ran my tongue round my mouth, I felt the jagged edge of a broken tooth. ‘But maybe we should talk about what hap—’

‘I don’t want to talk about that,’ she said. ‘Not now.’ There was almost no expression in her voice. ‘I was thinking there might be clues at the other farm,’ she said. ‘Where the soldiers were. There might be something there to tell you where they took your wife.’

I was taken aback. I had expected something else. A different reaction. This must be her way of putting it behind her, pretending it hadn’t happened. Sooner or later, though, she would have to talk about it. She couldn’t keep a thing like this inside her.

‘Is it not a good idea?’ She stared ahead and put out a hand to scratch Tuzik behind the ear.

‘Yes. It is.’ Then I thought about what we might find at the other farm. There wouldn’t be more soldiers – I was certain that if there had been, they would have heard the shooting last night – but there might be something else. More bodies. The five-pointed brand Ryzhkov had used to mark his victims. The sword he had used to take their heads. This was not something I wanted Anna to see. She didn’t need any more of this; she needed a home; she needed someone to look after her.

‘We can take their equipment,’ Anna suggested. ‘It might help us.’

‘I don’t…’ I searched for the right words. ‘Do you… ?’

Anna continued to scratch Tuzik’s ear.

‘You don’t like Oksana,’ I said.

‘No.’

‘What about her children? Nikolai and Natasha?’

Anna shrugged.

I sighed. ‘What I’m trying to say is, maybe she was right. Don’t you think you might be better off without me?’

‘Without you?’ She turned to look at me, worry in her eyes. ‘Why? What do you mean?’