Fire was in wrong places. That was bad. Daddy. Get up! And smoke. That should be in the fireplace, too. But it wasn’t. Because the wall was broken. Mommy! Where are you? Wind came through the house. And sparks.

He remembered.

Glass was on the floor. It was shiny. He ran. Outside. The blue house in the middle was on fire. Flames went up and up. Big. Bigger. He waited. They didn’t come. Please. Please, Mommy. Now. Daddy. Now. Please come now.  Krystiyan said bomb. The loud noise was a bomb. At the blue house. Borysko watched. They didn’t come. The fires were scary. He didn’t know before fires could be so loud. His house went boom. He fell down. Zlata’s house went boom. Those were bombs. Krystiyan said so. There were pieces of houses in the air. Mommy and Daddy never came.

“Borysko, tell us a story.” Zlata hugged Anichka and kissed her head.

Anichka was sad. And quiet. She didn’t want to play anymore. She knew lots of games. Clapping games. Games with string. Games to play in the park. She liked stories.

He told Mommy’s favorite. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful family.” He tried to think of the words Mommy said. “The Sunflowers. They didn’t start to be a beautiful family. They lived in different parts of the garden. And the potatoes didn’t like the beets.” He added his own parts about ants. And toads. And elves. The story didn’t end the same as when Mommy told it. He liked it anyway.

Then Krystiyan told a story. Borysko heard it before. Lots of time. He thought about other things. “Krystiyan, why did the bad soldiers bomb my house?” Borysko was bad. He interrupted. Mommy said rude. Rude was bad. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t. But he had to say that when he was bad.

Krystiyan looked at Zlata. “Do I have to?”

She nodded.

“I don’t know.” Krystiyan rubbed his head like it hurt. “I can only tell you what Maksym said. Our houses were in the way and people wouldn’t leave. People didn’t want to leave home. We didn’t think our houses would be bombed, because it’s not allowed. They did it anyway. Now people know. They know they’ll get bombed and they run away first if they can. Then the bad soldiers steal stuff. And they blow up more houses.” He rubbed his eyes. “Why do we have to talk about it? It’s too hard. It’s worse than thinking, remembering.”

“Our stories won’t get told unless we tell them. The stories of a lot of little towns and villages like ours might never get told. Sometimes other people tell stories about the same thing, but they lie. If you don’t remember your own true story, you might believe the liars. Other people might believe them. It’s important that you remember and tell what happened. I know it hurts. It hurts me, too.” Zlata was sad. “Borysko, what happened after our houses were bombed?”

“We were in the thin wood.”

Krystiyan said, “Between the backyards and the river. I didn’t know what to do. There was no place to go.”

“Zlata made us run.” Borysko remembered hard. Because Zlata said it’s important. “We ran through backyards. Away from fires. People were yelling. People were in the street. They wanted to get in cars.”

“We wanted to get in a car, too, to go far away, fast, but we were afraid to go near the houses,” Krystiyan said. “Then it was too late because there was a tank in the street.”

“Then more houses went boom. Those were bombs. The little bombs. Not the big bombs in the clouds. I fell down. You carried me. You fell. We both fell. Then Zlata carried me.”

“You were too heavy for me. It was dark. And smoky. I was crying. I couldn’t see. Then we came to the end of the backyards.” Krystiyan wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Mommy didn’t like it when Borysko did that. He did it anyway. Because he forgot. “Zlata said we should go to school. There was a place to be safe.” He smiled. School at night was funny. He never went to school at night before. Because he was asleep. “Then Maksym was there. He scared me. He was big. It was dark.” Borysko looked at his sticks. A bomb-stick came down and went boom. The horse-stick didn’t like that. It ran away over the blanket-hills and hid. “Larysa was there, too. In the dark. She was crying. Maksym said it was dangerous. His daddy said he should go in the wood. Stay away from roads.”

“Maksym scared me, too, talking in the dark like that, all of the sudden. You remember a lot.” Krystiyan put his head on his hands.

“I don’t like it. I want the remember to go away. I want it to be like before.” Borysko crossed his arms.

“It can’t go away. Because it did happen. It can never be like before.” Krystiyan made a face. “Zlata says to remember.”

“I know.” Borysko sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Because he forgot. There were shiny stripes on his sleeve. Like slug tracks. He thought that was cool. But Mommy didn’t like it. She didn’t like slugs, either. “Maksym has a really big backpack. Larysa, too. I want my backpack. My backpack has dinosaurs.”

“Mine has sharks. I remember my parents talking about leaving, maybe. But they didn’t think the war would spread to where we live so fast. We weren’t ready, either. We didn’t have backpacks or suitcases. It wasn’t their fault. It’s the fault of the murderers, that’s all. That’s what Zlata said.”

“I like my new backpack.” Borysko put it near and pointed. “Look. It has more zippers.” He pulled the zippers back and forth. “Zlata was crying, too. She didn’t want to go in the woods. She wanted to go to school. People would help us.”

“Maksym said he couldn’t go. He said he had to take Larysa away. He promised. He would show us the safe way.”

Borysko frowned. A pocket was empty. He put some bomb-sticks in it. “Larysa said Zlata and Maksym don’t like each other.”

“You’re getting the story mixed up. She said that yesterday.”

“Oh. They should like each other.”

Krystiyan laughed a little. Just one laugh. “When they were really little, Maksym’s toy soldiers tied Zlata’s bunny to a tree. It was the enemy. Zlata was mad. She took the bunny back and stomped on the toy soldiers and broke some. Then Maksym was mad.”

Zlata laughed a little. It was more than one but it was hard to hear. Anichka laughed a little, too. It wasn’t like her laughs at kindergarten. The big girl gave her some water.

Borysko was happy. Because they laughed. Maybe Anichka was getting better. It was funny that Zlata and Maksym played with toys. And got mad.

“What happened next, Borysko?” Zlata was almost whispering.

“We went places with Maksym. He made us wait. And then he sounded like an owl. If it was safe. Hoots. You carried me. I wanted to go home. But Mommy told me to go. Stay with you. I wanted to be good. Like Mommy said.”

“You were good,” said Krystiyan. “There were so many bombs. And guns.” He was sad.

“Yes, lots more.” Borysko made stick-houses on the blanket-hill. “Zlata?”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t she come? Why didn’t Mommy and Daddy come with me? She said they would come. I don’t want to be alone. I want them to come. Like she said.” Bomb-sticks came out of the pocket and made the stick-houses go boom. The stick-people ran away.

“Oh, Borysko. They wanted to. They wanted to so much. There wasn’t enough time. They tried. They tried really hard. It was the same as what happened to us, almost. My parents went to get my grandpa. He needed help with his wheelchair. You said your dad was hurt when the house next door was bombed. Your mom went back to help him. There just wasn’t enough time. Your mommy and daddy didn’t want to leave you alone. They would never want that. Never. They tried really hard. They didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t their fault. It was the fault of the murderers.”

“Daddy says to always try hard. When I don’t do things right. It’s good if I try hard. I can do better next time.” The stick-horse didn’t want to live in the wood anymore. Borysko made a stick-house for the stick-horse.

“My dad says the same thing.”

“When is it? When is next time? So Mommy and Daddy can do better. Not leave me alone.” The stick-horse went in the stick-house.

Zlata wiped her eyes. “Little sunshine, I don’t have any more answers right now.” She was sad.

He didn’t like that. He didn’t want Zlata to be sad.

“Tell me what happened in the wood after we met Maksym and Larysa.”

The stick-people made more stick-houses. “Then there was a street. Maksym said it went to the school. We were near the river. There was a skinny bridge. I never saw a skinny bridge like that before. Other skinny bridges are little wood bridges. Like in the park.” The stick-people made a skinny bridge for the stick-horse.

Zlata said, “It was the pedestrian bridge over the river. What happened next?”

“People were there by the spesdestran bridge. It was really loud. Cars honked. People yelled. We ran. Veronika and her mommy were there. You talked to them. You were crying really hard. She hugged you. She was crying, too. We waited to get in the school. I was scared. Because there were so many people. They bumped me. I couldn’t see. It was all legs. And yelling. Then the school went boom, boom, boom. Really bad. Really loud. Big things flew through the air. People, too. I saw them. Lots of people fell down. We fell down. Veronika’s mommy didn’t get up.” The stick-people fell down. Some got broken. “Her head was hurt. There was a lot of blood. It was bad. I couldn’t hear good. My hands hurt. My eyes hurt. It hurt to breathe. Because of the smoke. You made Veronika come. She screamed and screamed. People screamed. I don’t like it. It was too scary. I don’t like screaming.” He rubbed his eyes because there were tears. “It was bad. Everything was bad. All bad.”

Anichka cried.

That was bad. It made him more sad. He crawled closer. Because he wanted to hug her. Zlata stopped him. Then he remembered. He couldn’t hug Anichka anymore because it hurt. She was sick. He held her hand. “Don’t cry, Anichka. I want you to get better. Then I can hug you again. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Anichka closed her eyes. Her eyelashes were wet. Her voice was like a sore throat. “And Veronika and Mykola and Mommy and Daddy. And my kitty, Sourpuss. I hope she’s all right. I looked, but I couldn’t find her.”

He wished she was better. Then she would tell him a story. She told stories sometimes at the playground. They were good stories.

“Can you remember anything else, Borysko? After the school blew up?”

Zlata gave him a clean cloth to wipe his nose. Because he wasn’t supposed to use his sleeve. “Anichka’s legs hurt. Maksym and Larysa were in the trees. They were crying. Because they thought we were dead. They were happy we weren’t dead. Larysa hugged Mykola. They’re friends from school. Like me and Anichka. Mykola was crying. Everyone was crying. There were more bombs. Everyone ran.”

“And Larysa had medicine and bandages in her backpack.” Krystiyan looked at Anichka. She was sleeping again. “We ran over the pedestrian bridge to the other side of the river. Then back the way we came. We went by our houses. I could see through the trees across the river, sometimes. Our houses were on fire really bad then. There were a lot of sparks because of the wind.” He covered his eyes. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to talk.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Krystiyan, I’m so sorry,” Zlata said. “Don’t say any more. It’s all right.”

Borysko remembered the sparks. They went far on the wind. They were pretty. Like fireworks. “I don’t like fireworks anymore.”

Krystiyan didn’t talk.

Zlata said, “The other houses were blown up and on fire too. Maksym said the orcs did it because it was the main road to the bridge. They killed us for that.”

“That’s really stupid.” Borysko didn’t know why the bad soldiers want the bridge. It wasn’t a good bridge. It got holes. It made the car bump. Daddy always said bad words about the bridge.

“Can you say what happened next, Borysko? After we went through the thin wood?”

He shook his head. “It was dark and cold and windy. There was screaming. I hid. No more screaming. I don’t like screaming.”

Krystiyan looked up. “I’ll tell. It’s Anichka’s story, too. And our parents’. It’s everyone’s story.” He rubbed his eyes. “I know the orcs are lying about it. They said the houses were empty. That they evacuated people. That there was no one there. No one at the school. Lying about everything. It makes me so mad.” He took a big breath like when Doctor had the chestoscope. “When we came to the end of the wood we stopped. Maksym put a thermal blanket down and Veronika tried to take Anichka’s layers off.” He was really sad. “She couldn’t because they were … burned to her skin, in her skin. Anichka screamed. I was sick.” He covered his mouth. “I wanted to run away. Borysko ran away. Maksym picked him up and gave him to Larysa. Mykola fell down. He fainted. Maksym helped him. Then Anichka didn’t scream anymore, because she fainted, too. Veronika didn’t faint. But she couldn’t help. She was shaking so hard. And sick. Like me. You cut off as much as you could, cut around the stuck parts. You put on medicine. And bandages on the parts that were bleeding bad. Maksym took clothes from his backpack to wrap her legs. Then he put her in his coat to keep her warm.” He put his head down again.

Borysko didn’t remember that. Because he hid his face and covered his ears. Because it was too terrible. It hurt. He remembered Larysa helped him hide. She covered him up with her scarf. He crawled over and sat next to Krystiyan. Because he whispered. Borysko whispered in kindergarten a lot. And church, too. But it wasn’t the same. Those were naughty whispers. That’s what Mommy said. But Krystiyan wasn’t naughty. He was sad.

“Then Maksym said we had to get to the next town. There was a little hospital there. There were no phones to call an ambulance. Phones and cellphones didn’t work anymore. But even if they did, ambulances couldn’t come anyway because they got shot. And we couldn’t use a car because the orcs were shooting them, too. We had to stay in the fields, in the trees and bushes between the fields. In the dark. And be quiet. He knew the way. It wasn’t too far.”

Borysko patted his arm. But Krystiyan didn’t look up. He was too sad. He was hiding. Because it was terrible.There was no scarf to put over his head for him. Borysko put his head down, too. “I walked a long way. It was really, really dark. I fell lots of times. Larysa held my hand. She helped me not fall. It was cold. We had to run. There was a slippery place. My hands hurt.”

“You should have told me that your hands hurt,” Zlata said. “I should’ve checked. I’m sorry.”

“I was brave.” He sat up. Mommy said to be brave.

“You are very brave.” Zlata smiled at him. “But next time be brave and also say what hurts. It doesn’t mean you aren’t brave. It means you’re injured and need help.”

Mommy said be brave when Doctor put needles in his arm. That meant don’t kick or hit or yell or run away or cry. It hurt. Zlata said he should tell. “I’m going to tell the police on Doctor next time.” Borysko nodded. That was right. “The police will make Doctor not be so mean.”

Krystiyan sat up and smiled at him. “I don’t remember what happened next.” He looked at Zlata.

Zlata said, “What do you remember, Borysko? After the ice?”

“I was cold. I couldn’t see good. Because my eyes hurt. There were trees. There was a tent. And a fire. Sparks. I didn’t like it. You said there are good fires and bad fires. The tent felt good.”

Krystiyan said, “I remember that. It felt really good to be out of the cold wind. We had to stop because we were freezing. Maksym and Larysa went to see if they could find help or find things like food and blankets. And more clothes for us. We weren’t wearing the right kind of clothes or boots. They said there were houses in the wood across the street. I didn’t want them to go. I was scared. I fell asleep after that.” He looked at Zlata. “I had bad nightmares. Borysko did too, but he didn’t wake up.”

“We were all very, very scared. And so, so sad. After you both fell asleep, I stayed up with Veronika and Mykola. We cried a lot. We tried to be quiet because Anichka kept waking and getting upset. We had to stop, but we didn’t know how. We couldn’t stop crying.” Zlata cried a little. She wiped her eyes. “It was getting light out when Maksym and Larysa got back. They brought food, blankets, big coats, clothes, mittens, socks, and hats. And some medicines. And backpacks to carry things. There wasn’t much food, but with their own food it was enough for everyone for a few days. They said there were bad soldiers in the village and on the road. The news was all awful. A lot of other people had died, too, friends, people we knew. Even though the cellphones were jammed then, we needed to disable them because they would tell everyone where we were. He showed us how and that we can still use them as flashlights and cameras. Then he said we should take pictures every day and make notes about where we are and what’s happened. He would fix it so anyone else couldn’t see it.”

“He has a soral panel. To plug things into. He showed me.” Borysko crawled back to the stick-people. The stick-horse was tired. It was time for bed. It went back across the skinny bridge.

“He has more than one. After they set up the solar panels, they made the fire bigger and put water in buckets and bottles to keep it from freezing, to drink and wash with. I felt stupid. I hadn’t even thought of that, what we were going to drink. I was embarrassed, too, because all this time I had been mad about my stuffed bunny and thought Maksym was a mean boy. I was so silly.” Zlata made a face. “He and Larysa did everything and they were tired and sad and cold, too. More tired than we were.”

Borysko smiled at the funny face. He was glad Zlata was here. And Maksym. And Larysa. He liked them. He didn’t know them before. They lived in the yellow house. At the end of the street. His mommy waved at their mommy sometimes. The stick-people went in the stick-houses.

“Next, we talked about other things that we needed to do. Maksym said he had to sleep, and he would use a hammock because it was really crowded in the tent. He put it up and made a windbreak for it. He has a sleeping bag that’s good for really cold nights. Then Veronika helped me with the food, sorting it, planning meals. After a while, you both woke up, and she went back in the tent to help Anichka. We ate and drank and cleaned up but then everyone was thirsty still and the water wasn’t clean anymore. We had to make more. The first morning took a long time. That was all right because Anichka needed a lot of help, and Maksym and Larysa needed to sleep. Then they had to teach us everything. How to clean and put down the tent, keep the fire from smoking, and put things in backpacks the right way. Do you remember?”

Borysko shook his head. “I remember I walked a long time. It was cold. I cried. I didn’t want to. I wanted to be brave. It was bad. Everything was bad. I wanted to go home. Maksym carried me because you were tired. Because you helped carry Anichka. I didn’t want him to carry me. I wanted you to carry me. He said it was all right to be mad. Then I fell asleep. Because I was tired of being mad.” Bomb-sticks fell on the stick houses. Stick-people ran over the skinny bridge to the stick-horse house in the wood. The stick-horse said they could come in.

Krystiyan said, “Larysa taught me the names of some trees and bushes. She said it would be easier after they have leaves.”

“She knows lots of stuff. She said Maksym won’t let her have her guns back. She’s a bad shot. That means she shoots the wrong things. She’s sorry she didn’t learn better. She hates the noise. Veronika is a good shot. Can I be a good shot?” Borysko looked at Zlata.

“Of course.” She coughed a little and covered her mouth. “But not for a few more years. Remember what I told you about the guns? Can you tell me?”

Borysko shook his finger like Mommy did. “Never, never touch one because I’ll have an accident. Because they’re dangerous. A gun in the wrong place kills people. Like a fire in the wrong place. I tell you or Maksym or Veronika if a gun or fire is in the wrong place.”

“Did you see Maksym’s slingshot?” Krystiyan’s eyes got big. “He told me about it when we were walking. And about slings. And catapults. How they work. He said that Larysa knows how to use a sling, a real sling, not just a slingshot, and she’s pretty good. She can shoot a bow and arrow too, but she didn’t bring any. She doesn’t like to kill things, she just likes to shoot at targets, like tin cans. I don’t like to kill things either.”

Borysko didn’t know what a sling was. Or capatults. He liked his rubber-band gun. Mommy didn’t like his rubber-band gun. Because he shot her plants. The flowers fell off. He killed a worm. Because he didn’t know he could kill a worm. But it was still wiggling. He took it to Mommy so she could fix it. She said not to bring worms in the house. She made him put both pieces back outside in the dirt. He didn’t shoot worms anymore. He should ask Zlata why worms couldn’t come in. They didn’t bite like ants. They were nice. She was petting Anichka’s hair. He got mad again. “Zlata, why did the bad soldiers bomb the little hospital? Why are they so mean to Anichka? They shouldn’t be so mean!” He covered his mouth. He was too loud. He had to be quiet. Because Anichka needs to rest. 

Zlata said, “You jumped ahead, but that’s all right. I think they do it to make people leave. They bomb the places where people go for help, to be safe. Schools, hospitals, community centers, even churches. The first places we tried weren’t bombed, but they were full of bad soldiers. And looted. Everything was stolen and there were no doctors or nurses. At the bombed hospital, people said that the bad soldiers said there weren’t any sick people there. That our soldiers were there in the hospital. That was a lie. A lot of doctors and nurses and sick people died. There was no power. The machines and computers didn’t work anymore. And the ambulances got blown up. There was hardly any medicine. It got blown up and then the bad soldiers stole a lot. The nurse gave us a little. She said the bad soldiers steal children that don’t have parents, take them away. They take other people away, too. The nurse was able to hide some kids. Now they’re with us. Grygoriy and Katryna. Marynia, Sofiyko, and Lyaksandro. They were really cold when they got here. And scared. The tent was too small, so Maksym showed us how to make a shelter. Everyone can fit in and stay warm together. He said the more people, the warmer it is. But now we need more food, right away.”

“Maksym made gofarers, to go get stuff.” Borysko liked the new word. He wanted to be a gofarer, too. The stick-people were gofarers to get more sticks for the stick-houses. They looked in the pocket. There weren’t many sticks left. Because they got blown up. By the bomb-sticks.

Krystiyan said, “Foragers. To learn with him and Larysa. I wish I was old enough. I thought it was unfair, but he said Larysa won’t go anymore either. Not unless it was an emergency. That made her mad. Then Maksym looked at her and she started crying. She said it was because she promised to be good and she wasn’t. She misses her mom a lot.”

“I want my mommy.” Borysko closed his eyes. He saw her face. She was smiling. He put his thumb in his mouth. He stopped. Mommy didn’t like that. He crawled into Krystiyan’s lap and held his hand. “I want my mommy and daddy. I want to go home.”

“I want mine, too.” Krystiyan hugged him. “It’s not fair. It’s not right. I hate the orcs. I don’t want to hate anyone. I don’t like hating. Dad says it’s not right.” He cried. It was quiet crying. Not like when his house went boom.

“Oh, Krystiyan. I want Mom and Dad, too, so much, so very, very much.” Zlata took a big breath. “I don’t know what to say. It’s so hard. I think maybe it’s all right to hate but not for no good reason. Not just because you didn’t get your way or get the toy you wanted. But some things should be hated and not just for a little while, but forever so they don’t happen again to someone else. What do you think?” She petted Anichka. “Shhh, little one, shhh. Go back to sleep.” Her face had more tears.

Borysko felt Krystiyan move his shoulders. It was a shurg. That was the word. He shurged. He hated orcs, too. Because they were monsters with big fangs and claws. Zlata called them bad soldiers instead. She said they were men, not monsters. But he thought they were monsters. Monsters with big bombs and guns. 

“I don’t know,” Krystiyan said. “I’m glad we didn’t get taken away. I’m glad we’re not alone. Will we ever be safe?”

Zlata nodded. “Yes, but it may be a few days yet before we can get away from the fighting. We’re going as fast as we can to find a hospital or a safe way to get to one, but the bad soldiers are shooting everything on the roads.” She looked at Anichka. “Thank you for talking. I know it’s terrible. But if we don’t, the little ones won’t remember when they grow up.”

Krystiyan wiped his eyes and nose. He made a face and nodded. “No one should forget. Never.” He put his glasses back on.

Borysko leaned against him. He was tired of his story. He looked at the shelter. He liked it. It had big sticks tied together. Then little sticks. The little sticks went in and out. Over and under. Woven. That’s what Maksym said. Then special blankets. Then a tarp. That was a new word, too. Tarp. Tarps keep rain and snow and wind out. There was a brown tarp and blankets on the floor. The brown tarp was important. Maksym said it had to come up the insides of the walls. Or the blankets would get wet. Cold, wet blankets were yucky. It was Borysko’s job to make sure the brown tarp was right. If it was wrong, it had to be fixed. He liked his job. It was important. He checked. The brown tarp was right. It was cold inside. He could see his breath. But not like outside, in the wind. It was really dark outside, too. Inside, there was a little light from the little lantern.

Veronika and Mykola came in. They weren’t crying now. Zlata gave Anichka to Veronika. Mykola held Anichka’s hand. She woke up. She smiled. They whispered. Then Veronika sang a song.

It was almost as good as a story. His eyes were sleepy. Mommy and Daddy said that. When he was tired. They said he had sleepy eyes. Daddy would always tell a story at bedtime. Borysko lay down.

“Anichka, Anichka, wake up. Let’s play.” She didn’t wake up. Her hands were cold. Borysko put his mittens on them. He couldn’t get them on right.

Zlata crawled into the shelter. Her eyes were puffy and red. So was her nose. She folded and rolled blankets.

Borysko tugged on her arm. “Anichka’s still sleeping. You should wake her up.”

Zlata didn’t say anything.

He didn’t like that. When she didn’t talk it meant he was bad. He tried to be good. He sat by the door.

She helped put his boots on. “Borysko, it’s time to go. Go outside.”

He crawled out. The light was bright. He rubbed his eyes.

The older boys took down the shelter. They put the rope, bungee cords, stakes, and other stuff in a bag.

Borysko knew a lot of new words. Bungee cords. Stakes. He watched. The boys put the sticks and branches over Anichka. In the hole. A blanket was over her face. That wasn’t right. Then dirt. He didn’t like that. She would get cold.

The big boys were bad.

“No! No! Stop that! Anichka, wake up! Wake up! Anichka! Anichka!” Borysko hit them. He kicked them.

“I’m sorry, Borysko.” Maksym put him back by the fire.  

Veronika sat on the ground with Mykola. They cried really loud.

It was bad. It was all bad. Everything was bad.

Borysko sat down. He rubbed his eyes. Zlata should stop them. He tugged on her. “Why? No! Why?”

She picked him up and kissed his cheek. “I should’ve woken you and told you. I wasn’t thinking straight. We have to say goodbye to Anichka.”

He didn’t want to say goodbye to Anichka. He watched over Zlata’s shoulder. Maybe she would wake up and come with them. Maksym helped Veronika. The new big boy helped Mykola. Borysko looked past them. Far away. That’s where he would see her. When she came. She would be a little spot. Far away. She would run. He would tell Zlata. They would wait for her.

He watched. She didn’t come. He looked and looked. He didn’t want to miss her if she came. Anichka didn’t come. Mommy and Daddy didn’t come. No one came.

Zlata put him down. She was tired.

He walked with Krystiyan. “Why did we leave her?”

“Because she died. She was killed by the bomb.” Krystiyan wiped his eyes with his scarf. “Not right away like our parents. It killed her later. She got an infection. Zlata said the medicine didn’t work anymore. It happened really fast. Her fever went up and up. She didn’t wake up anymore. Then she died. She can’t have a funeral because the orcs will steal us. I hate them.”

Larysa said, “Borysko, we have to leave her. We’ll be back for her as soon as we can. We won’t forget. We’ll never forget!” She sounded really, really mad.

He looked at the sores and scabs on his hands. He put them into his pockets. The things flying through the air were hot. And sharp. His mittens got cut and melted. It hurt. Anichka’s legs were really sore on the back. From the hot little pieces. He didn’t want to leave her. She was killed. It was wrong. She shouldn’t be killed. It was bad to leave her alone. He wanted to go back. He wanted her to come. He wanted to go home. With Anichka. They should go home. And play in the park. The mud was cold and crunchy.

“Where are your mittens?” Krystiyan helped him get up.

The mittens were warm. Anichka would like them. “I gave them to Anichka. Her hands were cold.” Borysko’s hands were freezing now. Because he fell in the cold mud.

Krystiyan gave him to Zlata. “He gave his mittens to Anichka.”

Zlata was walking with the new big girl. She unzipped the big coat and put Borysko inside. She unzipped the other coat a little. “Put your hands inside my jacket. Marynia, would you zip up my coat and tighten the belt as much as possible?” She pulled his scarf up higher on his face.

The new big girl helped. “There you go, little one. All snug and safe.”

He was sorry he didn’t have mittens. It hurt. Zlata was warm. His hands felt better. Her arms were around him. That felt good, too.

“It was a kind thing to do, to give Anichka your mittens. I’ll get you some new ones when we stop. You can’t walk without mittens, so always tell me if you don’t have them or when you get too cold.”

He nodded. It was warm and soft in the coat. His eyes felt sleepy. Because they were tired. Tired of looking. Tired of crying.

“You understand?” Maksym smiled and petted his head.

Borysko was sorry he whined. He was a big boy. Mommy said whining was for babies. But he wanted to go to a store. He wanted chips. And cookies. Daddy always brought him the favorite cookies. Daddy liked them, too. It snowed last night. Just a little. Not enough for snowballs. It was cold today. Windy. The wind blew snow in his face. He had new mittens on. He liked them. But he was tired again. And hungry. He wanted to go to a store. Now.

Zlata picked him up and put him in the coat. Mykola walked next to them. He wasn’t crying today. He was mad. He hit things with a stick. He punched a tree. Maksym said not to punch trees. Mykola would hurt his hand. That would be bad. Because hospitals get bombed. He can punch Maksym instead. But say so first.

“Zlata?”

She opened the coat a little and looked down at him. “Yes, sunshine?”

“Can I punch Maksym, too?”

“Of course. Just tell him first. Otherwise, it’s not right.”

He was hungry. And sleepy. But he couldn’t sleep. Because he was hungry. He missed Anichka. And Mommy. And Daddy. And his house. His room. His toys. He remembered Daddy’s friend, Father Artem. And heaven. It was a place you were when you were dead. “Zlata?”

“Yes?”

“Is Anichka happy? Is she hungry? Do her legs hurt?”

“No, her legs don’t hurt anymore, she’s not hungry, and she’s happy.”

“Can’t we go in the branches with her? In heaven? No one can hurt us there, can they? Then we can all be happy. Mommy and Daddy are there. Father Artem says so.”

“Oh, little one.” Zlata sounded really sad. “They don’t want us in the branches. They want us to live, to see new flowers growing here, in our country. To be free where we belong, with children of our own someday. It’s very hard sometimes. We’re all tired, cold, and hungry. Sad, scared, and angry. They’ll understand if we can’t do it. But we’ll keep trying for a while.”

Borysko was sad. Mommy and Daddy missed him a lot. Anichka missed him a lot. He knew that. It wasn’t right to be so far away.

She was always scared now. “What happened?” Her voice had a squeaky sound.

“Oh, I was, um, poked by a sharp piece of metal when I was scouting. I’ll be better in a day or two.” Zlata wrapped another layer around the bloody bandage on her hand. “Don’t worry about it.” She had nice eyes. Especially when she smiled.

“What is that? It smells weird.”

“Well, I’d call it odds and ends soup. Maksym says it’s a chunk of venison with a little freezer burn and we need to eat something until we can find more food, so we shouldn’t let it go to waste. He said that a lot of people around the world eat things that we don’t usually eat. Even rats and mice and insects.” Zlata made a yucky face. “I know it’s really important to stay strong when we’re in the cold all the time.” She looked down at her legs. “But I don’t care how loose my trousers get, I’m not eating rodents or bugs. He claims I would never guess if I didn’t know, but I don’t believe him.” She looked suspiciously at the pot. “It does smell a bit strange, but I’ve never eaten deer meat before.” She leaned over, took a cautious sniff, and shook her head.

Veronika covered her mouth. “I can’t. I don’t think I can.”

Zlata took her hand. “At least try. We’ll pretend it’s something else.”

Sofiyko looked down at her skinny legs. Could they get skinnier? She didn’t think so. But if they did, her trousers wouldn’t fall down like Zlata’s because it had elastic. That was good. She had watched the older boys use knives and hatchets on the meat. It didn’t look any different from the meat in the butcher’s shop. She liked the butcher’s shop because it had the best sausages. They always got their sausages from the butcher. He was a nice man. He liked to talk and tell stories. He liked the sisters of mercy and the girls from the school. Some people didn’t. She didn’t know why. They were all really nice, but maybe some people don’t like nice people. But she didn’t really like the smell of the soup. It was smellier than mutton. Her tummy liked it, though. It growled. It liked mutton, too. She was very hungry. She was hungry yesterday and the day before. But she didn’t want to eat bugs, either. She wondered what they smelled like.

It was strange not to say a prayer before she ate. But the others didn’t. Marynia said that it was all right if she said one, no one minded. Or she could add it to her bedtime prayers. Was she supposed to say a prayer if she ate bugs? That didn’t seem right. It seemed like a lie. She would ask Marynia later. It was quiet while people ate. Maksym was right. The venison was good, better than mutton. She ate it all up. “Can I have more?”

Zlata said, “Yes, you should eat as much as you want.” She ladled some into the bowl.

Veronika jumped up and threw up behind a bush in the potty-place.

It sounded really icky and made Sofiyko gag. People shouldn’t throw up while other people were eating. Finally, the big girl wiped her face and came back to the fire. Then everyone started eating again. Except for Katryna. She looked sick now, too.

“Try again in a few minutes. Please? Just a little?” Zlata squeezed Veronika’s hand.

“I know. I just, uh, well, never mind. I’ll try one more time.” She took a deep breath like she was going to jump in a pool.

“Why do you throw up?” Sofiyko hated throwing up. It was nasty.

“Oh, um.” Veronika shrugged. “It’s just that people like or don’t like different foods. Some people don’t like beets.”

“Really?”

“Really. What foods do you dislike?”

Sofiyko thought. “I don’t like cooked mushrooms. They get slimy and look like slugs. And I don’t like anchovies. But they don’t make me throw up.”

“That’s good. You’re lucky that you like most things. I’ve always been this way. That’s what my mom says, anyway.” She sighed. “It’s not good to lose so much weight so fast, but it’s even worse to puke. Ugh!” She made a face. “Katryna, are you all right? Do you need help?”

“No, I’m good, I think. Grygoriy said I have to eat, but I don’t want to eat bugs. I can’t eat bugs, even if he says so.” She shook her head and shuddered. “This is much better than bugs. Whatever it is.” She didn’t sound like she meant it. Then she clapped her hands over her mouth. “They’ll make me vomit.”

Larysa nudged Mykola. “I wonder if they’ll be crunchy or—”

“Larysa! Hush! Katryna, you don’t have to eat bugs. Don’t think about it.” Zlata reached over and took her bowl. “Stop thinking about it. Take deep breaths, count to a hundred by fives.”

Katryna breathed in. It was wheezy. After a few times, she looked better.

Borysko looked in his bowl. “I don’t see any.” He stirred it with the spoon. “They weren’t crunchy. They were squishy. Look! There’s a—”

Zlata put her hand over his mouth. Katryna jumped up and ran into the shadows. Veronika went after her. Borysko swatted and knocked over his bowl.

Zlata crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. “You should be ashamed.”

“The sooner everyone gets done being squeamish, the better.” Larysa frowned back.

“It’s not a choice.” The big girl flung out her hands. “Do you think she wants to throw up?”

Mykola nudged Larysa.

She nudged him back. “Are you saying they’re both going to be vomiting the whole trip?”

“Veronika makes funny sounds.” Borysko watched as Larysa filled his bowl.

“Are you saying that if you have a sore toe, I should stomp on it so you get used to it faster?” Zlata shook a finger at them. “Both of you owe her an apology.”

“Look! A roach!”

“Borysko, that is not a roach. Now be quiet and eat.” Zlata handed him a spoon.

“But she said—”

“Larysa.”

“It was him.” She pointed to Mykola.

He pointed back. “Was not. It was her.”

Zlata pointed at Borysko. “Tell him.”

Larysa sighed. “There aren’t any bugs in there, Borysko.”

“Really not?” He stirred it, looking. His lower lip poked out and he pushed the bowl away. “Then I don’t want it. It smells funny. I want cookies. And chips.” He folded his arms over his chest.

Zlata rubbed her forehead.

Katryna and Veronika were done throwing up, so Sofiyko finished her second bowl and looked around. Something was different tonight. “Why aren’t we making a shelter?”

Zlata looked up at the sky. The clouds were glowing because of the moon. “It’s bright tonight. We’re going to take advantage of it. After we eat and clean up, we’ll walk for a little longer, until it gets too cold.”

The water was ready. Sofiyko drank, washed, and brushed her teeth. Then she walked. And walked. She was so sleepy. Her eyes closed, and she slipped and fell. Marynia picked her up and put her inside the big coat. She was so strong. “Marynia?”

“Yes?”

“Will I be strong like you someday?”

“I don’t know. I was never tiny like you are. There are more important things than being tall and strong.” She kissed Sofiyko’s forehead. “Rest now. We’re going to try to move fast tomorrow, too.”

She woke when Marynia put her down. Other kids were building a shelter. She went to help. Larysa made a fire. Food cooked while water warmed. There were some beets, too. They smelled really good. Sofiyko ate everything in her bowl, and then she was even sleepier than before, super sleepy. Marynia helped her and Lyaksandro clean up and get into the shelter, to the middle. Everyone lay down close together under the blankets. The big kids put the big coats on top. She shivered. The cold coming from the ground made her wake up a bit. She listened to the pretty song Zlata sang. It was from her favorite movie. Veronika was crying again. Sofiyko wished she could help her not be so sad. She didn’t know how to help. She closed her eyes and said her prayers. They took a long time these days. Sometimes before she was done, she fell …

She smiled at Katryna. She was so glad the other girl was here. They weren’t friends before because they went to different schools, but it was good to be from the same village. They remembered the same places and people. She yawned and stretched. Time to get up. She followed Katryna outside.

After breakfast, Sofiyko worked by the fire on the camouflage made from dark blankets and spare clothes. She liked making camouflage. Almost everyone needed to cover the bright colors of the coats and trousers and hats and mittens. They were near a town. The scouts said zwastikas were there, the bad soldiers with the white tape on, so they had to be careful or they would get stolen and taken away. After a few hours, it was time to go.

She walked with Katryna beside the bushes and trees separating one field from the next. For a long time they walked in one direction. The fields ended in a new row of bushes and trees. They turned and walked by the new row. Then they turned into a new field. Then the other direction again. It was a zigzag. Then she walked for a long time in the first direction again, past field after field.

Birdsong. That’s what it was called, but it was a noisy, screechy birdsong. It meant to hide. Sofiyko ran behind some bushes. She was scared. “What is it?”

“It’s all right. We need to cross some open ground and then an earthen dam. There’s not much cover for a long ways. We can’t get across the water any other way without going into a town. We’re going to wait until it starts to get dark. Then Maksym will scout ahead again. Do you want to play cards?” Larysa looked at everyone.

“I’m going to go talk to Veronika. See you later.” Mykola left.

Larysa pulled out her deck of cards and a small tarp to sit on.

“It’s funny that we all know the same games, even though we’re from different places,” said Krystiyan. “And the same stories and songs.”

“Our towns aren’t that far from each other. Do you think all kids in the world play the same games?” Katryna looked up at the sky.

“Probably. Look! Sofiyko won already. She has a stick.” Larysa rolled her eyes.

Sofiyko smiled smugly.

Krystiyan said, “You’re not supposed to say. You just ruined the game.”

Larysa shrugged. “She always wins this game. Let’s play ninety-nine.”

The new game started. Ninety-nine was a harder game with more rules. Sofiyko liked it a lot, but she wasn’t very good yet. After a while, she couldn’t hold the cards anymore. She put her mittens back on and went to find Marynia. She was behind some bushes near the edge of the wood. “My hands are cold. We were playing cards.”

“We need to find you some mittens that you can play cards with.” Marynia unzipped her coats and gestured for Sofiyko to climb onto her lap. “Let me take a deep breath first. All right, take your gloves off and put those ice cubes right up my shirt. Ooh, aaah, ooooh. They’re cold as shit.” She wrapped her coats around Sofiyko.

“You cuss more than you used to.”

“I know. I’m really, really angry. Angry at God, too. I’m trying not to be, but I don’t know how.” She sighed. “I can’t pray anymore. I keep trying.”

“I don’t think it’s bad as long as you try. God probably understands.” Sofiyko snuggled close and rested her head on Marynia’s shoulder.

She jerked awake, like falling off a bed. She hadn’t slept very long. She looked around. It wasn’t dark yet. Marynia’s rifle was nearby. She had learned to use a rifle fast. The big kids were happy about that, but Sofiyko wasn’t because now Marynia was a guard and a forager. And she was learning to scout. She was gone a lot and that was scary. She explained that the scouts didn’t take big backpacks. They ran a long way with little backpacks and found the best places. They made maps, too. Then the foragers went straight there with the big backpacks, so they didn't have to run all over the place with heavy loads. “Do you have to shadow the scouts tonight?”

Marynia put the binocular down and smiled at her. “No, I don’t. I was about to wake you up. I need to get up and move around. My bottom is pretty cold. You go back to the others now. I smell food. It’s probably ready.”

Sofiyko stepped through the shadows, following the footprints. She spotted the little fire and then waited for a plate or bowl. There weren’t enough for everyone, so they took turns. It seemed like years before she was handed a steaming bowl. She ate slowly, but she wanted to gobble. The sisters said it was bad manners. Zlata said that it was important to chew everything so that the food went as far as possible. It was hard because being in the cold all the time made her as hungry as a wolf. Now she was thirsty. The water was ready. It tasted good. She could taste vanilla. And there was something spicy. Ginger, it was ginger. It made her warmer. She helped Zlata clean up.

Sofiyko found Katryna and then watched Marynia and Zlata get the kidpacks ready, the backpacks that Maksym made to carry Borysko and Lyaksandro. Mykola and Krystiyan put out the fire and helped get the little boys into the kidpacks. They helped Zlata and Marynia stand up. Then they put on their own big backpacks. Krystiyan could carry a big pack, even if it was mostly blankets and sleeping bags. He was stronger than he looked. Mykola checked his knife and hatchet, and then led the way. He could do a lot of things with his hatchet. Sofiyko wanted a hatchet.

Veronika was waiting with Grygoriy at the edge of the wood. They were guarding. Grygoriy hugged Katryna. He was nicer now. He was really mean before. Katryna had told Sofiyko that Maksym punched him in the face. Sofiyko wondered if she would be nicer if someone punched her in the face. She didn’t think so. Boys were weird.

Grygoriy smiled and said, “Everyone stay silent. Katryna and Sofiyko with Marynia.”

Hooting. That one meant come here or that it was safe there. Sofiyko didn’t know all the birdsong yet. She was still learning.

Marynia checked to make sure Lyaksandro was all right and jogged away. Her rifle was in front, across her body, pointed down. It didn’t need to be. It was unloaded because she wasn’t a guard right now. She was practicing.

Sofiyko ran after her. It was very dark now. It smelled like more snow was coming. She didn’t have her backpack tight enough. It made slapping noises. She didn’t like that, but she couldn’t stop to fix it. There was frozen water to her left. To her right was a steep slope. At the bottom was a little river. She could just barely see it. It looked frozen, but she could hear running water. She ran, watching for the darker marks of footprints. It seemed to take forever. She was scared. Suddenly, trees and bushes were there.

Maksym pointed to a bush, and Sofiyko crawled under and hugged her knees. Larysa called it taking cover. It was hard sometimes because the camouflage got caught on the bare branches. But it worked. Even in the daytime she couldn’t see Larysa if she was under a bush with her camouflage. She just looked like more bare branches and dead leaves and dirt.

Hoots again. Maksym hooted back.

A little while later, she saw Veronika coming with Mykola and Krystiyan. She was a gymnast. She wasn’t tired at all, even though she was little, much smaller than Zlata or Marynia, and had a big backpack. Maybe Sofiyko should be a gymnast, too. Mykola and Krystiyan sat under a different bush, and Veronika went back without her backpack.

More owl noises. Zlata and Larysa came from the dark, following Veronika. Zlata had Borysko’s kidpack. She didn’t have to rest, either. Veronika went back again.

Grygoriy came with a backpack on his front and back, and then Veronika with Marynia’s pack. Maksym helped her put her own back on. She was going to carry both.

“Are you all right? It’s still hard for me to believe you can carry that much,” Maksym said.

“Good workout.” Veronika stretched her arms and jogged in place for a minute. “Not too bad. I’ll let you know when I need a break.”

A time-to-go hoot. Sofiyko got up. There were backyards of houses to the left. The houses were dark lumps. Most looked empty. Sometimes there was a noise, like a door slammed. Sometimes there was a little light in a window, maybe a candle or lantern. Two dogs barked at them. That was scary. She didn’t like dogs. They had mean teeth.

Katryna whispered about her mom and dad, how much she missed them. She told stories about them a lot. Now she was talking about a trip to the mountains and the nice hotel. Marynia said Katryna was a chatterbox, but Sofiyko liked that. She liked listening to stories about other people and places.

She missed her mom and dad, too, but especially her mom. It made Marynia mad because Sofiyko didn’t remember them. How can you miss people you don’t remember? She didn’t know. She just knew she did. After Dad died in the accident, Mom left them. She went away and never came back. Marynia said it was a boyfriend in another country. Sofiyko made up stories for herself, like the one where Mom was a prisoner, but she finally escaped and came home and was so happy to see Sofiyko.

They lived with Dad’s mom and dad for a while, but they were mean. They hit Lyaksandro. And didn’t feed him. She and Marynia shared their food. And stole it. There was never enough. She was always hungry. Marynia said it was because they never liked Mom. Some people got mad about it and took them to Great-grandma Oksana, a long way away. She was old and tired. She took a lot of medicine. Marynia and Sofiyko had to do almost all the work and help Grandma in the bathroom sometimes, but that was all right. Grandma Oksana was kind and happy they were there. Sofiyko loved her a lot. Lyaksandro got much better. And there was a piano. Grandma taught them how to play it. Lyaksandro liked it. He liked some keys better than others. He started singing, too. But Grandma had to go to the hospital. She was asleep and couldn’t wake up. The doctor said it was a stroke. Grandma died. Sofiyko missed her very much. It was a pain in her heart all the time. But it wasn’t like the other kids. Grandma knew she was really sick, she said so, that she could die anytime. It wasn’t a surprise. She wasn’t killed. It was sad but it wasn’t evil, a sin. She was ready to go to heaven and be with God. It would be scary for them for a while, but they would all meet again someday. The sisters of mercy would take care of them. But Grandma didn’t know about the orcs and bombs at the hospital.

Marynia was talking with someone about Grandma’s funeral, then there was a huge noise. Three times. It hurt Sofiyko’s ears and made her feel sick, like something hit her hard in the stomach. Marynia carried her and Lyaksandro to the basement. It was so dark and scary. People screamed. People died in the basement. The doctors and nurses worked really hard, but people died. A baby died. Then orcs came. They took people away. They took children. A nurse hid her and Marynia and Lyaksandro. They were alone in the dark. That was really, really scary. She wanted Grandma so much. Then Grygoriy and Katryna were there. They were really scared and sad, too. Sofiyko was tired of being scared. She wished she was brave like Marynia and Veronika and Larysa. But Katryna wasn’t brave, either. That made her feel a little better. “Why were your mom and dad at the hospital? You never said.”

“Mom had to go to the clinic every week because she was sick but was getting better. When the bombs came, we hid in our basement, but they didn’t come home, and the phones didn’t work, so in the morning, we went to find them, and a nurse pretended to be our mom and hid us from the zwastikas and said she would take care of the funeral but we couldn’t go because the church was full of orcs pretending to be religious, because they hand out papers with lies, spy on everyone, and would turn us over to the zwastikas. Grygoriy said our parents would rather be cremated than buried by murderous, criminal, apologist thugs in robes, and I wish I could remember all the bad words he said, I never heard some of them before. Then Maksym came and said we could come with him if we wanted, get away from the zwastikas. I don’t know what cremated is, I forgot to ask. Do you know?”

“No, but the nurse told us the same thing. Marynia said that Grandma would want a funeral, no matter what. She would understand why we couldn’t be there.” Sofiyko found a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “What are zwastikas? Why are they here?”

“Grygoriy said they’re like Nazis but they’re called rashists instead. They think they’re a better race and language and religion and stuff and nation than everyone else even though no one else thinks so because nobody ever moves there if they can avoid it, they have to be kidnapped or bribed, and most everyone there wants to leave for good, live somewhere else, and they go squat in other people’s countries and then say they’ve been there all along, that it’s their country, so they think Ukraine belongs to them and not to us and Ukrainians don’t exist anyway, even though here we are, where we’ve always been, DNA says so, and they’re always saying silly things like that, it’s so nineteenth century, whatever that means except it was a long time ago, and zwastikas think no one notices how silly they are, which is stupid because we’ve been there and done that and that’s why we don’t want it anymore, and we have too many gay people even though we don’t have more than anyone else because that’s not how it works, and anyway everyone would rather have gay people than zwastikas because they’re not the ones blowing up apartment buildings and kindergartens, and we have wrong religions that say zwastikas aren’t God’s favorites, and the Commonwealth of Independent States has always been one big, long lie, just try being independent and see what happens because then they do stuff like steal Crimea because the zwastikas want the navy base so they can blow up Turkiye, Bulgaria, and Moldova better. Then he said just because you stole something last doesn’t mean it isn’t stolen, so if Ukraine doesn’t belong to us Ukrainians then it probably belongs to Lithuania, Mongolia, or Sweden, not zwastikas, something about hordes, horse-traders, and men-who-row, I can’t remember which was where, but I like Sweden because we went there last year and it was fun. Which one do you like better?”

Sofiyko didn’t understand any of that. What did horse-traders have to do with anything? Did Lithuania have hordes? Were they stealing people, too? She didn’t know what Nazis were. She’d heard of them, like a really bad word, but she’d never met any. “I don’t know. Where is Mongolia? Have you been there?”

“It’s far away, but there are a lot of horses. I like horses, especially the spotted ones, and the Akhal-Teke are really pretty, and those other ones with the hair on their hooves, too. Maybe we should belong to Mongolia.”

“I was standing by a fence and a horse dragged me over it by my hair. It wasn’t pretty. Then it ate my hair. Marynia punched it on the nose to make it let go. My hair was full of slobber. Does Sweden have horses? I don’t want any horses.” Sofiyko shook her head.

Katryna looked upset. “The horse ate your hair?”

“Yes, and it hurt. Marynia said it was just playing, but it had really yucky teeth and there was poop all over the place!” Sofiyko looked around. There were more backyards to the left. “Do you think we’re almost there?” She was tired. She had to take more steps because she was smaller.

Katryna squeezed her hand. “Maybe it won’t be too much longer now.”

Screechy, noisy owls. Everyone stopped.

Marynia came out of the shadows. “There’s another dam we have to cross, a bigger one. As soon as we’re across, we’ll be in a wood, then we can camp. Maksym and Grygoriy are going ahead to scout, so sit down over there and rest for a few minutes.”

Sofiyko tried to crawl under the bush. This one had too many branches. It was scratchy.

Mykola tapped her foot. He chopped off some of the branches with his hatchet.

In a minute, Katryna, Larysa, and Krystiyan crawled in. No one talked. They were tired, too.

Sofiyko’s head dropped to her knees. Then it jerked up. She wanted to lie down. Owls again! She used to like owls. She got up, brushed the dirt off her puffy mittens, and followed the others.

The water to the left was frozen and dark. It seemed like a lake, stretching away into the night farther than she could see. It was pitch black down the slope to her right. She wanted to move to the left, but it was only a little less scary there because she might slip and fall through the ice into the cold, dark water. She stayed in the middle and didn’t look anymore. At the other side of the dam, she tripped on something and almost knocked Katryna down.

“Whoa, steady there.” Maksym caught her. “Sit down over there on that log.”

She and Katryna sat close together and held hands. She wished they could camp right now, but the scouts spent a lot of time looking for the best places. Camping in a bad spot was even more dangerous than hiking. Lyaksandro was crying, but she couldn’t see him. She wanted to go to him but knew she had to stay where she was told because it’s important to know where everyone is.

Marynia was suddenly in front of her. “I need to guard now. Veronika is tired. Can you get Lyaksandro out? He’s upset and can’t tell me why. Maybe you can help him.”

“I’ll try.” Sofiyko stood up. Her legs were only a little shaky now. She wanted to help. She knew it was hard to guard. Marynia said that even with gloves, the rifle was bad-word cold and it was hard to pay attention all the time, not to daydream. She helped Lyaksandro out of the kidpack. He sat next to her, and she helped him rock. He shivered and that made her shiver, too. What was that sound? She pushed her hood back a little.

Grygoriy, Zlata, and Borysko came.

Zlata tried to make the little boy be quiet. Her hand was over his mouth, and he was crying and fighting her. She looked at Maksym. Her eyes were shiny in the dark.

Maksym went over. “What? What is it?”

“Borysko says he hears a baby crying. Screaming. He’s so upset. I can’t calm him.”

“There is. I hear it. Far away. Lyaksandro does, too. I wasn’t … paying attention. It’s over there.” Sofiyko pointed.

Marynia said, “Really? I can’t hear anything.”

“When I was little, I heard a lot that my parents didn’t hear.” Maksym stood next to Sofiyko and looked at her arm. “Where? Point as close as you can.”

She pushed her hood back. She listened and then pointed.

Lyaksandro pointed.

“It can’t be that far or you couldn’t hear it.” Maksym took a deep breath. “Marynia? Grygoriy?”

“I’m ready.”

“Me, too.”

“All right. We’ll wait here. It’s safe enough for a little while. It might be nothing, just a sick baby at night. Remember, no sacrifices. We need you.”

Grygoriy slid his packs off and followed Marynia into the dark.

Borysko stopped fighting after Zlata told him that Marynia and Grygoriy were going to help the baby. He rubbed his eyes, leaned against Zlata’s shoulder, and hiccupped.

Lyaksandro’s hands were over his ears under his hood. He was having trouble breathing.

Sofiyko rocked with him. She counted for him so he could slow down and breathe right. Slower and slower. Time seemed to take forever. Her stomach felt sick. Something was wrong. She didn’t want Marynia to go there, to the place where something bad might be happening. She rocked. And counted. Please come back. Please come back now. Please. Now. Please. Please.

They were coming. Fast, making a lot of noise. Birdsong. Then Marynia was there. She was crying. She had a blanket wrapped around something in her arms. It must be the baby.

Sofiyko jumped up and ran to her but stopped. Something smelled really bad. She ran back to Lyaksandro.

Marynia handed the blanket to Zlata and went behind a tree. She threw up.

“Oh baby, oh baby, oh little sweetie.” Zlata started crying.

Lyaksandro cried. Borysko cried. The baby cried a little.

“The baby is filthy. It was … beyond filthy there.” Grygoriy covered his mouth. He made a choking sound. He whispered to Zlata.

Zlata put a hand over her mouth and nose. Her eyes got big.

Marynia washed her face with water from her bottle. Then she took the baby from Zlata. She smiled. “Hi, sweetie. We’re going to get you cleaned up soon, and then you’ll feel much better. Just a little longer now, just a few more minutes.”

Maksym said, “Let’s get going. Leave the extra packs here, we’ll come back for them.” He came over. “Lyaksandro, can you walk for a little while?”

Lyaksandro nodded.

“All right, let’s go.” Maksym led into the dark.

Sofiyko’s legs wobbled. That happened sometimes when she was scared really bad. Katryna helped her, and Lyaksandro walked on the other side. He seemed better now. She looked over at Katryna. Katryna looked back at her with scared eyes. Whatever had happened to the baby, it was really awful. Sofiyko slipped, knocked Lyaksandro over, and fell in the muddy snow.

From behind, Grygoriy said, “Mykola, help Sofiyko and Lyaksandro. Larysa, help Katryna.”

With Mykola’s help, it didn’t take long to reach the campsite. But it was hard, so hard. Sofiyko sat down and put her head on her knees. Mykola was next to her and Lyaksandro sat in his lap.

Maksym came out of the dark behind Grygoriy. “Whose boot prints are those? Someone else is here. Take cover.”

Larysa crawled under a bush with Katryna and Krystiyan. They disappeared in the shadows.

Mykola and Lyaksandro disappeared.

Sofiyko couldn’t move.

Someone grabbed her camouflage cape from behind and yanked her back. Mykola hissed like a cat. “Move!”

She rolled under the bush, and Mykola dragged her farther in.

“Up here, don’t shoot. We’re armed.” The voice in the tree didn’t sound scared or mad.

Maksym said, “Who?”

Sofiyko couldn’t see where he was.

“Antin, Myroslava, and Viktoriya. From Mariupol. We’ve traveled alone. We want to join you, if it’s all right.”

“How old are you?”

“Twelve, twelve, and seven.”

After a few seconds, Maksym said, “Come down.”

There were noises overhead and a thin shadow climbed down from a tree. “I’m Myroslava. Viktoriya is coming next.” A small shadow dangled from the branch, let go, and was caught by Myroslava. Then she said, “Antin is coming down. He has our rifles. Is that all right?”

“Yes, it is. Once he’s down, we’ll scout the area again, and that will be that if it’s only you three.”

The Antin shadow was down from the treetop really fast. He had rifles on his back. “Our backpacks are over there.” He pointed.

“Grygoriy, get the backpacks.”

In a few moments, the big boy put two big packs and one small one next to the new kids.

“I was wondering how you managed to survive alone and travel so fast. You were ready. Good for you.” Maksym came out of the deep shadows with his rifle.

“We were ready. We saw the tracks here and thought it might be people like us, trying to get away. We were going to check but then heard you coming back.”

“You didn’t hear the baby crying?”

“No. What baby?”

Maksym said, “Never mind. We’ve got an emergency on our hands. Make yourselves useful or stay out of the way. Fire, shelter, and tent, quick.” He looked at the backpacks. “I see you have a tent. Do you mind sharing?”

Myroslava looked at Antin. “We don’t mind. We’ll share everything.”

“Smallest tent for first aid, then. Larysa and Mykola, you’ll need to see to food and water after the shelter is up. Everybody, pitch in. Grygoriy and Marynia guard. I’ll scout.” Maksym jogged away.

Sofiyko went to where Maksym had pointed for the shelter. She had the bottom tarp and blankets in her backpack along with her own things. She spread the tarp out so the boys would know where to put the corner supports, so the shelter wasn’t too big or crooked. Then she helped bring buckets of water to the fire because there wasn’t enough clean snow to melt. The water had chunks of ice in it. Usually, only the big kids were allowed to to break through ice, but Mykola got to do it tonight because they were all busy. 

Larysa helped with the water. After she put in the treatment, she turned the buckets around and around so the ice would melt faster and stirred it with a stick. The buckets couldn’t be too close to the fire or they would get a hole. The bowls could be closer and when the water got hot, Larysa poured it in the buckets and gave the bowls back to Sofiyko.

Pretty soon the buckets were full of warm, clean water. Sofiyko sat by the fire and took the plate Larysa gave her. The food was different. The new kids must have brought some. It was good. Not as good as Zlata’s, though. When she was done eating, she handed her plate and spoon-fork back to be cleaned for the older kids. She looked around. The new little girl was sitting across the fire by Borysko and Lyaksandro. Sofiyko wanted to talk to her, but she was too tired.

The baby screamed.

Borysko yelled, “Why? No! Why?”

Lyaksandro covered his ears and started crying again, so Sofiyko ran around the fire and hugged him. He was bigger than her, but she was older. “It’s all right, it’s going to be all right.”

Veronika crawled out of the tent, holding something. She ran away into the wood, and Antin followed but stopped where it got really dark. He stayed there.

Larysa said in a soft voice, “Look, you still have food left. Doesn’t it smell good?”

“No! No! I don’t want it! No!” Borysko hid his face. “I want Zlata! I want Zlata now!”

The baby screamed again.

Sofiyko wished Marynia would come. But she couldn’t. She had to guard.

Myroslava was next to Borysko and Larysa. “Can you tell me what’s happening? I only know that a baby is sick. My little sister is terrified.”

Viktoriya’s eyes were really big. She sat very still.

“We found a baby today. A girl baby, Zlata said. Left alone in a bad place. They’re cleaning her. She’s really dirty and smells … sick. That’s all I know.” Larysa looked worried.

Sofiyko heard a noise and looked around.

Veronika came back from the dark. She was crying and looked like she had thrown up again. She went to the tent and then came to the fire with some metal bowls. She put them right in the flames. “Larysa, take them out in a minute. Thanks.” She ran back to the tent.

The baby’s screaming got quieter. Then she cried.

Borysko sniffled. He wouldn’t look at the food, and Larysa stopped trying to get him to eat. He leaned against her shoulder and she wiped his face. He was too tired to swat about it like he usually did.

Myroslava opened her backpack. She pulled out a package of cookies and handed one to Borysko, but he wouldn’t take it. She gave the package to Larysa. “Pass it around.”

“Thanks. They smell really good.” Larysa took one.

Sofiyko’s mouth watered. It was hard to take just one. She took a tiny nibble. These cookies would be her favorite from now on. She tried to eat it slowly, but she couldn’t. It was too good. She felt Lyaksandro lean against her more. “Larysa, we better get them to bed.”

Larysa nodded. She used a stick to get the hot bowls out of the fire.

Lyaksandro hung onto Sofiyko as she waited.

The little lantern wasn’t as bright as a flashlight, but it shone in all directions. Larysa held it up and carried Borysko with her other arm to the potty-place. Getting him to go potty took a long time because he kept falling over.

After Lyaksandro’s turn at the little pit, Sofiyko helped him get ready for bed close to the fire so he stayed warm. He went into the shelter, and she made sure he was warm enough. Then she helped Larysa, Mykola, and Krystiyan tidy the campsite. They put everything away where it belonged, like Zlata did. The backpacks were in order by the shelter, under a tarp. That was so things could be found in the dark. The sisters at the school did that too but not because it was dark. It was polite to keep things neat so that other people didn’t have to look all over when they needed something. She, Katryna, and Larysa took warm water to the potty-place to get ready for bed, and Myroslava came with Viktoriya. At last, Sofiyko put the buckets back by the fire and crawled into the shelter.

She almost woke. She felt a kiss on her forehead.

“Sofiyko, I love you. Lyaksandro, I love you.” Marynia’s voice was soft.

A little lantern was on, hung from the ceiling. Sofiyko listened to the older girls. They were talking about the baby. She woke up all the way and pulled the blanket away from her head so she could hear better.

“It was awful.” Veronika sighed. “We had to throw away all our clothes, boots, everything. And the blankets in the tent. And wipe the tent down, too. Zlata says the little one needs to be bare for days. She has to be carried in a soft blanket sling inside our coats, she can’t walk or sit.” She wiped her eyes. “We’re going to take turns until her sores are better, like guard duty. Zlata’s watching her right now.”

Sofiyko sat up. “Marynia, what happened? What happened to the baby?”

Marynia looked at Veronika and then back at her. She sighed. “It’s just so … hard to tell you.” She rubbed her forehead. “But you should know. Everyone should know because the baby is too little to know, to tell her own story.” She took a deep breath. “Everyone in the house was killed except the little one. There were seven dead people there, and the house was ransacked. The baby was there with the dead bodies.” She covered her eyes for a moment. “There was a generator so the power was still on or she would have frozen, but that meant that the dead people … well, you know what that means. There was, um, nasty stuff all over and the baby didn’t know how to keep clean. Zlata said she doesn’t know how long, but more than a few days because the sores and dirt were really bad.”

Sofiyko did know what that meant. Animals got killed by cars on the road by the back of the school. Sometimes in summer the sisters had to go find a dead animal in the bushes and bury it because it smelled really gross and no one could use the playground or gardens. “The zwastikas left the baby like that? With dead people? All alone?” She started crying.

A tear rolled down Marynia’s face. “Sofiyko, please don’t cry. I know it’s terrible, horrible, but please don’t cry. It makes me so sad, makes me cry, too, and I’ll get one of my bad headaches. She’s going to be all right.” She rubbed her eyes. “We don’t know if she was left or if she hid, but I think she hid. I think she’d be dead, too, if she hadn’t.” She reached over and held Sofiyko’s hand.

She took deep breaths, counting to ten, and said, “Can I help with the baby? I can help.”

“Of course you can.” Marynia stroked her hair. “Go back to sleep now. I’ll be there soon.”

Sofiyko lay down and pulled the blankets back up around her face.

“Did you find out her name?”

The new girl’s voice startled Sofiyko again. She wasn’t used to it yet.

“I think it’s Yaryna. Zlata thinks she might be three years old, or almost, but she’s a teeny bundle, like … I was. It’s hard to tell. She doesn’t talk much right now. We’ll ask her again when she’s not so scared and sick.” Veronika’s voice sounded like she was trying not to cry. “It’s almost like a miracle that we found her.” 

Sofiyko knew the teeny bundle Veronika thought of was Anichka.

Marynia said, “Zlata is sure she can get better, now that she’s not … She didn’t starve. There was food and water and she knew how to get it. She’s pretty strong for what she’s been through. We should try to go to sleep. We have to move again tomorrow, but Maksym said it’s to a safer place and we can stay there and rest for a bit.” She smiled at Sofiyko. “You can have a play day. Scoot over a little bit so I can fit in.” She slid under the blankets, put her arm around Sofiyko, and kissed her. “Go to sleep, now.”

Sofiyko closed her eyes. She started with a prayer for Yaryna.

Grrr-RGggrrr-ggrr-RRR. Sshlloupp. He glared at his stomach. “Shut up, you traitor. Anyone can hear you a kilometer away.” Ignoring further protests of the ravenous beast, he scanned the cold, quiet wood while another part of him remembered that day, the third day after his parents died, the second day after Anichka died.

“I said, no thanks!” He glared when Zlata offered food again. “How the hell does anyone think I can eat that crap when my parents have just been killed? My life destroyed?”

Katryna put her bowl aside and lowered her head to her knees.

Zlata said, “You have to eat.”

Grygoriy flung out his hands and rolled his eyes. “It’s great that you have the constitution of a cow, placidly chewing your cud over there, but some of us cannot eat when our parents got blown to fucking pieces and a little girl just died and had to be left in the fucking shrubbery, so would you please just shut the fuck up.”

Borysko and Lyaksandro went into the shelter. Sofiyko ran after them. Mykola followed.

“Time to go.” Maksym hauled Grygoriy up from behind by his jacket.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Startled and furious about it, Grygoriy swung with his left, flew through the air, and fell on his face. He was grabbed up by his jacket and shoved forward. He swung again. This time Maksym caught his fist and he wound up on his knees. He was lifted and pushed backwards.

“No, don’t! Stop!” Katryna was being held back by Marynia. “Stop it! Don’t fight! Grygoriy! Grygoriy!”

“Keep moving.” Maksym strolled forward.

“What the hell, King of Shit Swamp! Leave me the fuck alone!” He swung again and was flat on his back staring up through the creaking branches at the dull, gray sky. His head spun.

“I’m trying to leave you the fuck alone, but you’re not making it easy.”

Trees whirled around. His head cleared a bit. He was dangling in a fireman carry, his right arm and leg secured. Struggling to free himself from the iron grip, he punched Maksym in the back with his free hand.

“Ooh. Ow. Ooh. Ow. Kidney’s a little lower. You missed it again.”

Fucking infuriating.

Maksym dumped him on the ground at the edge of the wood.

Grygoriy leaped up and swung.

Maksym blocked and shoved him back. “What the hell are you doing still swinging your arms around? Fuck Alone is over there.” He pointed across the empty fields to the distant wood. “Get going.”

“I’m not leaving without my sister, shithead.”

“If you insist that your little, helpless sister be stolen by orcs and taken to some forgotten hinterland against her will, I will send her to you, but first I’ll point out that you don’t give a shit about your sister. She could be dead for all you care. Have you even once asked her how she’s doing?”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” Grygoriy was confused.

Maksym was cool and collected. “Have you asked your little sister even once how she’s doing? No? I didn’t think so. You don’t give a shit and you’re the last thing in the world she needs. You’re grinding salt into her wounds and everyone else’s with your endless bitching and moaning about Grygoriy, Grygoriy, Grygoriy, so get the fuck out of here or I’m going to beat the crap out of you and dump you in Fuck Alone.”

Hadn’t he asked? No, he hadn’t. Not once. She had asked him. More than once. Came to him. Sat by him. Held his hand. The truth was a horribly bright, inescapable spotlight. He felt like he had been stabbed. He wanted to protest, to defend himself, but he couldn’t. Everything he knew about himself … The world spun around and he sat before he could fall, putting his head down on his knees. What was he doing? What the fuck was he doing? What would Mom and Dad think right now? He was their pride and joy. They spoiled him. He knew it. Katryna was the light of their life, the longed-for daughter who finally arrived after they had given up hope. He remembered the way Dad’s face lit up whenever Katryna came in the room. And Mom’s. And his own. Katryna. Katryna with her cupcakes and kittens and flowers and hair ribbons. Always interested in whatever her big brother was doing. If she were taken … “No. I don’t want to be left the fuck alone.”

Maksym sighed. “You said you’ve done some survival training and that you know how to use a rifle. That’s the only reason I’m going to give you another chance. You weren’t paying attention before, so listen up this time.” His voice was matter-of-fact. “My job, my mission, is to keep these kids safe, free, and get them the hell out of here as soon as possible. Anything that interferes with that is going to be dealt with. I won’t let you hurt them anymore. The abuse must stop. If anything other than care, consideration, and gratitude comes out of your mouth, I will shut it for you and then some, so don’t do it. Borysko’s temper tantrums are to be expected. He’s four. He’s cute. You’re not four. You’re not cute. Your old life is over. No one can give it back to you. It’s cruel. Beyond brutal. But you need to grow up now, right now, and the only person who can help you do that is you. I wish I could help, but I can’t. I just don’t have the time. One last thing. Zlata is in charge of the camp, period. If you even look at her wrong, you’re out. And you might reconsider your completely unwarranted superior manner toward Marynia and Veronika while you’re at it because both are going to punch you in the nose any day now.”

Grygoriy couldn’t remember. Everything was a miserable, gray fog surrounding the bonfire of despair. Probably. Marynia had talked to him at first. Now she didn’t. He didn’t even remember talking with Veronika, but he was sure that he hadn’t treated her any better than he had the others. He saw his parents’ faces again. They trusted him. Believed in him. Loved him. Your life is over. But you can start a new one. Now. Right now. Save Katryna. Please. Keep her alive and free. You can do it. Do it. He took a deep breath, sat up, and scrubbed his face with his hands. “I think I can do it. Shit. I have to do it. What now?”

“Time to check the rear again. We left a very clear trail. A two-year old could track us. Ready?” Maksym held out his hand.

He clasped it and stood up. “I think so.” Everything looked unusually bright. The tree bark was composed of every possible gray and brown shade, and the cracks, furrows, and edges were sharp and distinct. Dead weeds poking from thin patches of snow glinted like pale gold. Before pulling up the gaiter, he checked the sore spot on his jaw. Not too bad. None of his teeth were missing. He pulled his hat down lower, slid his hood over, and put his gloves on. “Ready.”

Maksym twitched his head toward the wood. “Follow me. Step where I step.”

“Why do the zwastikas want orphan kids? Why would they? The nurse never said.”

“There are several reasons, but we’ll talk about that later. Right now you need to learn some birdsong as quietly as possible.” Maksym readied his rifle and led off.

Grygoriy was actually looking forward to talking to the older boy later. He hadn’t realized Maksym could string more than two sentences together, much less verbally eviscerate someone’s rotten character in less than a minute. By the time he reached the lookout, Grygoriy had managed to memorize most of the code. He practiced. It didn’t sound very birdsong-like to him. “I never knew there were barrels full of monkeys and bags of cats living in the woods of Ukraine.”

“The calls have to be as simple, plausible, and audible as possible. Fortunately, the vast majority of people are unaware that if a bird says whooo or kee-wik, it’s going to piss off the entire forest if it suddenly decides to whooo-who or wik-kee instead. A lot of people never get the hang of it, but you’re pretty good. Keep practicing.”

That made sense. It didn’t really matter what noise he made as long as he didn’t sound like a human. He never listened to birds, either. There could be ostriches here for all he knew. When Maksym called for a halt, he halted.

Maksym retrieved a rifle from somewhere, checked it, and handed it to him. Then he dropped down and belly crawled under a bush.

Grygoriy followed as best he could. It was hard. He was out of breath (and filthy) by the time he reached the top of the slight slope and peered over the edge.

“Shit. They’re coming.” Maksym passed the binocular to Grygoriy, took out a monocular, and unplugged it from the backpack’s solar panel. He studied the oncoming zwastikas.

“What do we do?”

“Shoot them.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. They’re not allowed near Larysa. Hopefully, they’ll go away or be misled. I messed up the trail starting in the wood and left a false one, but if they come ahead, I have to shoot them. Pass over your rifle, just in case I need it.” Maksym’s brow furrowed and his lips pressed tightly together. He aimed and froze. “Be still now.”

The zwastikas came on. Grygoriy was holding his breath. He forced himself to breathe. Was this really happening? Was he really here? Was Maksym really going to shoot them? He didn’t need the binocular anymore. Closer. Closer. The zwastikas stopped at the edge of the wood, looking at the tracks. One pointed to the south. The other shook his head. They entered the wood. Two meters. Eight. Ten. Fifteen.

He flinched when rifle fired twice in quick succession. Second zwastika fell back. First zwastika spun, fell, and was still. Clutching his throat, the second rose to his knees, tried to stand, and crumpled to the ground. After a minute, all was still.

Maksym picked up the monocular and scanned the distant woods across the fields. He handed the second rifle back, and scooted out from under the bush.

Grygoriy followed and readied the weapon, breathing too fast. He steeled himself and took a step forward. Birdsong. Follow me.

The intimidatingly expert marksman was leading away. He glanced back over his shoulder at Grygoriy. “Don’t step in my tracks, leave your own.”

Where was he going? He wasn’t going to check on the zwastikas? No, he wasn’t. The zwastikas had been close enough that Maksym knew exactly where he shot them. Why had Grygoriy thought he should? Because Grygoriy was a nice boy. He should call an ambulance. Maybe the zwastikas who murdered his parents needed some help; somebody shot them. He shook his head at himself.

Maksym left the south side of the wood after another long examination of the area with the scope. He led west until their path intersected with a trail leading south not far from the end of the wood. He made a few more prints as if he had been standing around, first one way, then the other. “Run across the field into the wood, to the little stream. Come back, leaving a new trail. Don’t cover the old tracks.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. You’re safe, nothing’s around, and I’ve got you covered. If something does happen and you’re still alive, find a round-about route to back to camp from some other direction. Get going.” Maksym waved him on.

He was right. It needed to look like snipers came from the other wood. Grygoriy hauled ass across the open field. Fortunately, the frozen stream wasn’t too far, and he made the return trip at the same pace without losing steam. “Whew. How is that going to fool anyone when the tracks stop right there?”

 “The ice isn’t thick. They’ll assume it refroze and spend a lot of time checking downstream, southeast.” Maksym lowered the scope. “We’re going to walk back-to-back. You’ll lead and I’ll follow so it looks like at least one person left after another came. That way to the lookout.” He pointed.

After checking his bearings, Grygoriy moved into the wood at an angle. “How do you know all this stuff?”

“Hobby, it’s what I like to do, and a lot is just common sense. But I’m not trying very hard, because the orcs suck, typically. The one that chose the correct direction was unusually good, but when he saw the covered trail, he should have been on his guard instead of overconfident. Also, we’re obviously not very important—minor details—or there would’ve been more. If it weren’t for my and your prints, they might not have bothered at all.”

“Crap. I hadn’t thought of that. You’re a great shot.” Did he really just say that? Like, good to see you. Or, have a nice day.

“Not as good as Veronika. She could have shot the scummy bastards when they were halfway across the field. We should quiet down until we get to the lookout.”

Whoa! Grygoriy had seen the girl with a rifle, guarding the camp, but had thought it was … what? Just for show? Bonehead. After a slow, silent trek, he spotted the lookout. The bodies were still there. Were they supposed to get up and wander off? Zombies? He sighed under his breath. His new life was going to take some getting used to. “We’re here.”

Maksym made a few more prints here and there. He unhooked a multi tool from his pack, attached a rake-shovel to the business end, and extended the handle. “Crawl back under and out the other side. You’re going to lead now. Follow the trail back, step in our prints, slow and easy. Pay attention. The birds, especially crows, will tell you a lot. Look and listen. I’m going to leave-no-trace, so I may fall behind sometimes. Don’t wait. You’ll be able to hear better if you’re not too close. Use the birdsong. Go.”

This wasn’t a video game. Every tree seemed to have a zwastika behind it. When Maksym’s small sounds faded away, he wanted to stop and wait. He didn’t. Grygoriy walked on, alone.

Birdsong. He froze. Ahead, to the left. Which one? I’m here, where are you? He called back. After a few minutes, his and Zlata’s paths intersected.

She aimed a mean-looking pistol at him in a professional manner.

Holy shit! Of course she did. Shots fired. Maksym wasn’t here. That asshole, Grygoriy, has a huge bruise on his face and a rifle. He dropped the rifle and raised his hands.

Zlata called, “Kuk-kooooo-kuk.” It echoed back, close.

Maksym appeared in the corner of his left eye, so Grygoriy assumed Zlata wasn’t going to shoot him right this minute, maybe, and daringly retrieved the rifle.

“We heard the shots.” Zlata lowered the pistol and raised an inquiring eyebrow at Maksym.

“Why aren’t you running away with the children like you’re supposed to?”

“Because we won’t survive without you, so before I waste a lot of energy scampering off to who knows where for no good reason, I should first check to make sure you’re dead.” She frowned at Grygoriy.

He was surprised. He hadn’t known she could frown.

Maksym snorted impatiently. “Nonsense. As long as you remember not to trot off to investigate gunshots without backup, you’ll make it.”

“Assuming one of us knows which way is north.”

“Ask Larysa.”

“Fine. You’re alive. What happened?”

“Target practice.”

Zlata bit her lip. She studied Grygoriy for a moment. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know, probably not.”

“If anyone asks, target practice. We’ll talk more later.” She looked at Maksym. “Next?”

He looked off into the trees for a moment. “We probably have six hours to be very far away. Your lead.”

“Right.” Zlata turned and backtracked. It wasn’t long before the guard challenged and she answered. She looked over her shoulder. “I saved you both some food. It’s by the fire.”

“Thanks, you’re a goddess.”

Grygoriy’s stomach growled. “Thanks, I’m starving.”

“Was that your stomach?” She looked at him as if he had sprouted horns and a tail. “I should warn you, Larysa and Katryna are very upset.”

“Thanks for letting me know.” Grygoriy attempted to appear nonchalant about the gastric racket.

Grrr-RGggrrr-ggrr-RRR.

She gave his abdomen a last look, rolled her eyes, holstered her pistol, and descended the slope into the shallow valley.

As soon as he cleared the small rise overlooking the camp, Katryna jumped up from the fire and raced toward him. Shit! Rifle! Grygoriy swiftly unloaded and slung it over his back.

She flung her arms around him, sobbing. “I was so scared, I was so scared, Marynia wouldn’t let me go, I was so scared.”

He sat, pulling her into his lap. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you were so scared. I’m sorry that I’ve been mean to you. I won’t do it again. I love you.” He held on tight until she calmed down. Then he wiped her face for her. He knew she hated having a dirty face. Or messy hair. He sighed. He knew nothing about hair. “I won’t ever leave you or let anyone take you away. Our life is going to be very different. We’ll talk more about it later, because we have to go now. Look, everyone’s getting ready.”

She looked around. “Are we staying? I mean, going?”

“I think it’s best for now. We can’t go home, can’t go back. Is that what you want?”

“I think so. Marynia and Zlata and Veronika help me. Help me feel better. But if you go away, I can’t … I can’t …‍” She shuddered. “Don’t go away. Please, don’t leave me.”

Grygoriy, that piece of shit, wasn’t included among the people who help Katryna. It didn’t cut like a knife this time, but he was ashamed. “I won’t. I promise. I’ll stay. I’ll fight for you. For me. For us all. Take deep breaths.” He held her until she stopped shaking. Her eyes were still terrified, the whites visible around the beautiful, amber irises. “I’m sorry I scared you so badly. Are you ready? Can you stand now?”

She nodded and got up.

He held her hand and led her through the wood.

GggRRr-rggr-oog. Sheesh! After an exasperated glance down at the treacherous one, he turned to the camp; he should be paying attention to his job instead of thinking about the past again. It was a great little campsite and Maksym knew this area well, so the scrounging was good. It was needed. More tools, more blankets or quilts that could be cut to make diapers and liners, needles and thread, coats, boots, new undergarments, t-shirts for wipes and washcloths. There was no way to wash a lot of clothes, so most were thrown away when they got too dirty. Yaryna was going to need her own backpack of cloths. Safety pins. Whoever invented those was an absolute genius, right up there with Einstein.

Myroslava had already found a stack of clothes and outwear for the new little one, much to everyone’s relief. It was great to have two more scouts; as young as they were, the twins were experts. Maksym was putting them through their paces, and Veronika, Marynia, and Zlata were shadowing. Everyone was catching up on sleep when they could. This was the second day at this camp. They might stay a third. Grygoriy looked to the far end of the little dell.

The girls were playing a jump rope game, double dutch, regularly splattering mud all over the unwary. Krystiyan and Mykola were trying to learn, and it was hilarious. They could barely keep the ropes going when it was their turn. The girls were refusing to jump into that mess and patiently showed the boys how to turn the ropes properly, again and again. After the girls took over the ropes, Mykola tried to jump in and got whacked upside the head. He staggered back and fell on his butt, clutching his nose.

Grygoriy stifled a guffaw.

Mykola fended off Larysa when she attempted to treat his bloody nose with her handkerchief. She stuck her own nose in the air and stomped off to resume her post as turner while Mykola shrugged at Krystiyan with a what-the-hell attitude. He scrambled back up and got ready to brave the ropes yet again. After several false starts, he managed to jump in and keep going for a few seconds before becoming entangled.

Zlata was holding Yaryna upright by the hands. The baby couldn’t walk; it was too painful. But every now and again, Zlata would take her out of the sling and let her stand. Not for long, it was very cold and the little one was dressed in an oversize t-shirt, hat, and boots. She had the most godawful sores, but she seemed much happier today and Zlata said it wouldn’t be long before the baby could tolerate clothes again. The little one bounced up and down a few times on her sturdy legs as she watched the jump-roping, and while she was distracted, Zlata checked the worst injuries, put more ointment on, and tucked her back inside the big coat, leaving only the tiny face peeking out, wide eyes marveling at the twirling ropes.

On the other side of the clearing, Borysko and Lyaksandro were making a fort for the toy soldiers and plastic animals. Borysko kept trying to tempt Lyaksandro to a wrestling match, but the much bigger boy wasn’t having anything to do with that. Borysko suddenly tackled him, and Lyaksandro calmly and methodically placed the notched sticks where they were required while the little boy struggled mightily to subdue him.

Grygoriy grinned. He had never understood why anyone had kids if they could’ve avoided it. He loved his little sister, but if someone had suggested that he should wipe her butt, that would’ve been the end; he didn’t want a little sister that much. He knew better now. Anything she needed, he would do without a second thought. Whining, caviling, repining, and temper tantrums were a distant, future luxury.

Zlata strolled over and leaned against a nearby tree. “Did you shoot during target practice? Sorry I haven’t been able to talk to you about it sooner. Too many ears.”

“No. I kind of wish I had, but I’m glad I didn’t. Maksym took both rifles. Have you?”

“Yes. Not the first time. There was no way. I was petrified. Like most of us, I’ve lived a sheltered life. Over the years, I’ve heard and read about the horrible things happening in the war, but those things happen to other people, you know, not to me. Maksym had to spell it out, what it was going to be like for me being trafficked. And did I really want Krystiyan to grow up a compulsory member of the Putler Youth? I did better the next time.” She made a wry face. “It still seems so strange to say such things.”

Grygoriy looked at her. “It’s true. You’ll be at the very top of a trafficker’s to-do list, the next headliner in a distant, foreign bordello. If I were you, I’d shoot anything that moved. When did you shoot?”

Zlata looked up at the sky for a moment. “Maksym said that our town, our neighborhood was a, um, beachhead? Something like that. It was crawling with orcs, everywhere. We couldn’t get ahead. We got shot at near the first emergency clinic we tried for Anichka. That was when I froze. The next time was the day Anichka died, that night. I was so tired and sad. There aren’t any excuses, I walked right into them, almost got us both killed.” Her cheeks puffed out as she exhaled noisily. “It still scares the hell out of me just thinking about it. We ran, doubled back, and hid in a drain pipe. They went right by us, but they gave up in the next wood and started coming back. We were gone by then. We followed the ditch, made a big loop to the south, and eventually reached camp. I’m so grateful that Antin and Myroslava brought all those freeze-dried rations. No one has to take such huge risks for a while. Why are you glad you didn’t have to shoot?”

“Even though I hate the fucking zwastikas with a vengeance, watching Maksym kill them didn’t help. I should not be happy about that, should not want to throw a big party, raise a few toasts. But I am, dammit. It’s barbaric.” He rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Talking to you all helps a lot. Marynia, especially, since she’s been taking care of those little ones half her life. If she can do it, so can I. Hopefully.”

“She got me to back off the hovering, showed me that what I was doing was all about me, not the kids. It’s hard. I want to protect them from anything, everything, I don’t know what, all the time. And I can’t. I just wear myself out while annoying the crap out of them.” Zlata looked over at him. “You know, what you said about being happy … It reminded me of something that’s been bothering me. Veronika and Mykola were going to go back to that hospital, the one where you were, to turn themselves over to the orcs to save Anichka. They had decided. Veronika wanted Mykola to stay with us, but he refused. I’m so very glad they’re still here, but isn’t that the same as saying I’m glad Anichka died when she did? But I’m not, I could never be. And they blame themselves so much. It’s just so hard. Everything is such a mess.” She swiped a tear from her face.

“It’s the most despicable thing ever, to bomb hospitals and clinics to force people to beg and bribe for help from the rashist assholes that caused the injuries in the first place. I just …⁠‍” Grygoriy rubbed his forehead. “Sorry, off on a rant again.”

She nodded sympathetically. “Yes, you are. Just keep it out of camp. Our anger doesn’t help the little ones. It just scares them even more. As my grandpa always said, there’s no sense in making a bad situation miserable as well. How’s your mess going?”

“I’m figuring out who I am, putting the broken pieces back together little by little, including the newly discovered hairy savage piece which seems perfectly happy to wear coats made from the scalps of enemies. My life won’t ever be a graceful vase again, it’ll probably turn out to be a weird-looking beer mug, but at least I won’t be walking on the shards in my bare feet all the time.”

“That’s a great way of putting it. You and Antin have such a way with words. Look at that.” She nodded at something over his shoulder. “What’s she doing?”

He watched Katryna traverse the upward slope in an odd fashion, mincing and sidling around non-existent obstacles. He laughed. “She’s avoiding mud. And anything else that might possibly be besmirching.”

Zlata smiled. “Little cutie. Being on the run must be especially difficult for her.”

“It goes without saying that we’d much rather be at home being spoiled rotten by our parents, but it’s not a bad thing for either of us to be here. As fun as she is, I used to feel sorry for her future husband and children. God forbid they should track a leaf in the house.” He chuckled. “I almost broke a rib laughing when Mykola told me about Borysko’s bug soup.”

“Those wretches!” Zlata pressed her lips together and fisted her hands on her hips, but then gave in and grinned. “I’d better take myself off; she’s not coming up here to talk to me and I should check on Yaryna. Let me know if there’s anything either of you need.”

“A huge steak or triple cheeseburger would be good. If you see a cow, tackle it.”

She shot him a dirty look. “If I should see one besides myself on the way back to the fire where I sit and chew cud, I’ll let it know that you’re looking for it.”

Gregoriy slumped dejectedly. “Will I ever be forgiven?”

“Of course not, silly boy. I’m still mad at Maksym about Bunny-wunny.”

“What? Who?”

She glared over her shoulder at the impenetrable density as she strolled away. “No girl could ever forgive you for saying such a thing. I’ll be holding a grudge about it for the rest of my life.” Zlata stopped to talk to Katryna and then continued down the slope singing, “Bunny-wunny! You’re the wunny! Hoppy so cute, little blue suit, honey-bunny! Bunny-wunny! Fuzzy tummy! Little white tail …‍”

The abominable Bunny-wunny mystery would have to wait. After carefully examining the ground, his little sister sat nearby. She looked up at the sky for a while, unusually silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Why can’t I learn to scout?”

Because backpacks don’t come with vacuum cleaners and bathtubs? He managed not to smile. “You can learn, but not here, not now. It’s too dangerous.”

She frowned fiercely and managed to look like an indignant kitten.

“You can learn some other time.” He shrugged. “There’s a lot you’re learning already, like making a safe fire, how to cook with it, making a shelter, first aid. So many things.” Which twigs are best for keeping fingernails clean at all times; tried and true methods for preventing a wrinkled mass of undergarments at the bottom of a backpack; and the crucial sorting and safe storage of hair ribbons, bands, clips, barrettes, combs, and a multitude of other things he didn’t know the names of.

“I didn’t know how important it is to know how to live outdoors. I thought it was just something kids who like to be dirty and make fires in the woods liked, you know, like eating bad food because you dropped it in the mud or fire or sat on it, and falling in scummy ponds and having to go naked because you didn’t bring enough clean clothes or soap, and then bugs bite you in private places because you’re naked, and tents fall over in the middle of the night because you forgot the stakes, but you never said anything about the potty-places, and of course I know people can’t just put their, um, bottom-stuff wherever they want, but potty-places are gross, and not being able to wash my hair is a big problem, but Zlata says I can’t hog the water and can only wash it when it’s my turn, but Borysko doesn’t care how dirty his hair is, so I don’t see why I can’t have his turn too, and‍—‍”

“When we weirdos are done with our fires and scum and latrines, we love to come home to Katryna with her cupcakes and clean fingernails and pretty hair.” He had a slight inkling that she didn’t really want to learn to scout.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He smiled at her doubt. “What I would give for a cupcake right now. And a hot bath in a clean bathtub.” He sighed enviously over his former luxuries. “I should be able to spend more time with you soon, now that we have more scouts. I’ll start teaching you then if you want, just around the camp.” He definitely had to be there the first time she had to belly-crawl through a puddle of who-knows-what, wouldn’t miss it for the world. “But if you’d rather stay in camp and play games or tell stories, I’d like that even more. It’s not as good as cupcakes, but it’s definitely better than pond scum. Go back now, I need to do a patrol. And pull your gaiter up before your nose freezes and falls off.”

“I miss you. I miss your poems.” She stood.

“Enough to agree to go tramping through the dirty countryside looking at owl poop? I’m flattered.” He blew her a kiss. “I’ll recite your favorites when I get a minute.”

A tiny smile flickered for a moment and then she tiptoed back down the slope to camp.

He hadn’t seen her smile since … It was good to see it again. Worth everything. After she rejoined her new friends, he set off into the wood to get far enough away from camp so that he could hear and see what the birds and other animals thought about the neighborhood. It was another gray day with heavy cloud cover. If it were warmer, there would be wisps of fog snaking through the trees. It reminded him of those first days, of wandering the colorless, trackless haze of devastating loss. It surrounded him still. But now he walked straight ahead to where his life is. Where Katryna is. Where the new Grygoriy is.

Twinkling stars and a sliver of moon reluctantly peeked between the flotillas of clouds as if afraid of being found out. He grabbed his rifle and followed Veronika into the evening, quashing the urge to amble along and chat. The stories she and Mykola told about their tiny, fluffy-white-haired, rifle-toting, cranky, seventy-five-year-old relative with the beady eyes were hilarious. Dearest Great-Auntie had made sure all her nieces and nephews knew how to shoot. Lay bricks. Shingle a roof. Knit. Install a toilet. Make puff pastry for the village fête. Dig a trench for the never-to-be-mentioned irrigation pipe running from a neighbor’s property. No one knew what deplorable tasks were lurking behind the respectable façade of the annual visit. On the one hand, Grygoriy was grateful that he hadn’t the slightest idea how to make puff pastry for a village. On the other, he felt a twinge of envy. None of his relatives manifested the least hint of eccentricity. He suspected that he would like Great-Auntie very much should he ever experience the misfortune of her acquaintance.

The group ahead disappeared around a corner to the field side of the tree belt running alongside a road heading northwest. They had managed to avoid the worst of the local fighting by traveling northeast for days, but it was time to change tack. The east was becoming increasingly dangerous as the defenders of Mariupol mounted a stiff resistance. It was unlikely that they’d be able to break through that front undetected. Maksym had wanted to stay near this road; the possibility of picking up an evacuation convoy had seemed good. But no humanitarian convoys were getting in or out here, quite the contrary. They were getting shot and bombed. They were even pillaged; the supplies of food and medicine meant for the hungry, ill, trapped families were stolen by the zwastikas. The sooner they got away from Certain Death Street, the better.

Merging into the night shadow of the hedgerow, he made sure there was no movement of any kind to the rear, either in the field, the wood, or on the road before signaling to Veronika. They jogged to catch up with the center.

Maksym and Marynia were already across with the first set of youngsters: Katryna, Sofiyko, and Krystiyan.

Grygoriy checked the rear again. He gestured for Veronika to move up the belt and take over the northwest approach from Myroslava. He studied the road to the southeast. The latest squall of snow was melted from the pavement, but the shoulders were still heaped with puffy whiteness. He tried to remember the terrain and zone maps from geography class, but couldn’t quite. Maksym or Larysa would know.

Antin led Larysa and Viktoriya. He was followed by Myroslava with Mykola and Lyaksandro. They disappeared into the shadows on the far side.

A car was coming. A truck. More than one. Grygoriy and Veronika ducked back into the wood and flattened into the snow, scooping it in front of and over themselves. Zlata was invisible behind a tree, blending into the shadows of the brush. Were they far enough off the road? Was anyone looking?

The zwastika troop transports passed. Several hundred meters up the road, they pulled off to the left and disappeared. More were coming. Frantic birdsong. Everyone move, now. Veronika shot across the road, followed by Zlata carrying both Yaryna in her sling and Borysko in his kidpack.

Grygoriy grabbed the backpack of spare outerwear and blankets with his left hand and raced across, crashing through the branches on the other side just as headlights from the southeast illuminated the road. The rest of the gang was already out of sight. He ran as fast as he safely could with his heavy backpack, smaller scout pack, rifle, and the awkward spare pack. If he had to leave it, he would. They could get more. The wood was much wider on this side of the road, the trees taller. Following the trail, he was immensely grateful for the smidgen of moonlight highlighting the clouds. Exiting the far side of the wood, he spotted the others jogging along the east side of a hedgerow leading directly north. He stopped to listen. There was a low growl of idling engines to the west. He caught up to his proper place, trailing Veronika.

Everyone halted. Antin trotted back with Myroslava close behind. “Change of order. Maksym wants you, me, and Marynia up front. He and Myroslava will take the rear doing leave-no-trace. Veronika, he wants you with the middle but stay here with Myroslava until he arrives. Can you handle the spare pack?”

“Sure.” Veronika nodded at Grygoriy. “See you later.”

“See you soon.” He followed Antin, admiring his almost silent stride and the way he used the shadows. As he passed the center, Grygoriy smiled and whispered greetings. The little ones all looked well. The days of rest had been good for everyone, even if they were paying for it now.

About ten meters farther on, Maksym stepped out from behind a tangle of saplings. “Marynia’s up ahead.”

“Got it.” Antin kept moving.

Grygoriy waved at Maksym in passing. A soft owl call issued from the smudges of shadows ahead; Marynia was almost invisible in her camouflage, just a pair of gleaming eyes. He looked from her to Antin. “Any preferences?”

Antin said, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to lead and I think we should spread out more. Me, then Marynia. You stay close to the middle.”

“Sounds good.”

The all-clear relayed from the rearguard. Whooo-who-who from the lead, repeated back down the line. Move out.

After a long trek, Grygoriy left the shadow of a hedgerow and crossed to the brush lining a river. That meant they were about halfway to the area where there was no cover, where they would have to stop and scout. He paused to make sure the group was on track, and then moved on, field after field after field. He was surprised by an I’m-here-where-are-you hoot from ahead, to the left. That seemed strange but the river meandered a good bit. He called back. A cacophony assaulted his ears; he froze in surprise. A pair of righteously indignant, glowing eyes glared at him from a meter away. “All right, all right, I’m going.” After advancing a few meters, he tried again. Straight ahead. From behind, the rightful property owners gave him hell. He moved on, field after field after empty, snow-covered field. He suddenly caught up with Antin. In the stillness, it sounded like a herd of elephants was attacking the shrubbery. “Is that Marynia?”

“There’s a sheltered spot. She’s getting it ready, hacking back some brush.” Antin shrugged.

Grygoriy shook his head disapprovingly.

The younger boy laughed. “It’s safe enough, and it’s going to get a lot noisier in a minute. I hope Borysko is asleep.”

“Too true. I’ve been meaning to ask you, why don’t you talk about Mariupol and your family? You can tell me to shut up. It’s just that Katryna said that Viktoriya told her your mother and grandmother are still there.”

Antin evaluated him for a long moment. “Because my dad is a zwastika. He’s been fighting with them in the east with a fairly high rank. It’s difficult to talk about, you know, to even think about the fact that my father and the rest of the orcs are destroying the city his children live in, murdering our friends and neighbors. Not just once, and they seem to be doing a more thorough job this time. Mom hates him now, and he hates her, big time. She wants us out of here. We know dear Daddy will abduct us if he gets a chance; he’s tried before, even hired some thugs. Not that he gives a shit about us, obviously. We’re trophies to his limp masculinity or something equally repellent. I won’t bore you with all the legal stuff, but dear Daddy’s favored solution to custody disputes is to kill mom. And now he’s here, with battalions of zwastikas. Mom won’t leave Grandma; she’s bedridden. There’s no one to care for her anymore. Grandma wanted us to leave her, but none of us wanted that. We hashed it out and agreed that saving Viktoriya from dear Daddy was the priority, because he hates her beyond a vengeance. She’s the daughter of his shortly-thereafter-mysteriously-deceased former best friend and my mom. And we did save her, just barely. His undercover advance orcs were ready and waiting. So, as soon as Mom can arrange transport for Grandma, they’ll meet up with us but that’s getting closer to impossible every day. Mom, uh, she didn’t say it, but we know that she thinks … that he won’t kill her or Grandma as long as he can’t find us. We’re not too sure about that, so we’re pretty unhappy. The other thing to know is that even if I find a humanitarian corridor, I can’t use it. Viktoriya, Myroslava, and I will have to make our own way out; we can’t pretend to be someone else’s relatives. Maksym knows. We got grilled about why we’re so off course and had to explain that minions were hot on our trail. They got ahead, so we had to doubleback, fling some red herrings around, and cut a few capers hither and yon. We lost them, and they aren’t looking here. Maksym wasn’t too thrilled about our having snuck ourselves into the gang, but he had to admit he would’ve done the same thing. Alone, we stick out like a sore thumb.” He finally paused for breath and cleared his throat. “It’s not safe for anyone to know we have a mom and grandma in Mariupol, but it’s not fair to blame Viktoriya for talking. She can’t help it. She’s seven, she misses them, and Katryna is her friend.”

Grygoriy was shocked. “Holy shit. That is truly awful, like something out of a Greek tragedy.” The trials and tribulations of his former life were nothing of the sort. They were tiny ripples on the placid sea of security. Was he angry? A little, but it was fading. “You’re right. I’m not happy about it either, but I would’ve done the same and more if it meant Katryna was safer.” He rubbed his scruffy beard. “I’ll talk to her. It may not seem like it, but she can keep a secret and she’s very loyal.”

Antin looked relieved. “Thanks.”

“How do you do that? Just launch into a speech, unprepared?”

“You, Katryna’s brother, need ask such a thing?” Antin shot him an incredulous look. “It’s hard to imagine being unprepared to launch into speeches given the slightest opportunity. Or none whatsoever.”

Grygoriy laughed and looked over his shoulder. “Here they come and Borysko is evidently still awake. Thanks for trusting me; I know it can’t be easy.” He held out his hand and Antin shook it.

“Monster of the Woods, that’s what the little ones call your tummy. It wakes them up at night and they tell scary stories about it.” Marynia giggled as she tickled his eyebrow with a twig.

“They do not! Do they?” Grygoriy awoke from his nap in the sleeping bag under the evergreen tree with his usual full alertness.

“It’s not their fault.”

“Fine. I’ll sleep outdoors from now on.” He rose, groaned, and slung the bag over a branch. It had been a hard slog to this new camp, and he had only gotten a few hours of sleep. Oh, well. He stretched his arms and shoulders. “What’s for breakfast?” The monster agreed it was time for breakfast.

Marynia glanced censoriously at his belly and then studied his face for a moment. “How are the gray days?”

He shrugged. “They still come and go. Less often. I keep going. It’s what I want. How are you?”

“So-so. I thought my life before was pretty messed up, but this is a whole new level of crap. There’s no sense dwelling on it right now. One day at a time, and one foot in front of the other.” She made an impatient face. “The Monster of the Woods will be happy to know there’s plenty of breakfast. Then we need to get going.”

“Monster is delighted. See you in a few.” After a skimped morning routine, he joined her, Antin, and Maksym at the edge of the camp.

“Keep to the river, go along the back of the houses, and don’t cross any bridges.” Maksym drew a map in the snow. “No foraging. Information only. Take your time, be careful. I have to sleep.” He had some impressive circles under his dark eyes. Waving good luck, he strode off toward the small tent.

After taking a last look at the map, Grygoriy followed Marynia while Antin led. They kept their rifles slung; the scouts had already checked out the neighborhood. The sun was well over the horizon when they reached the first house of a small settlement. The yards they passed had large, snow-clad gardens stretching to the floodplain. The majority of houses seemed empty. People here must have been able to get out early enough, had been beyond the first incoming waves of zwastikas, and the homes hadn’t been ransacked and destroyed yet. There was a repetitive sound to the northeast, floating in on the breeze.

Rounding a bend in the riverbank, the source of the disturbance appeared. Two silhouettes were in the backyard of the farthest house with the morning sky aglow beyond them. Grygoriy squinted against the light filtering through the clouds. Small farm would be a better description. It seemed that the people were digging a grave for a blanket-wrapped body resting on the ground nearby, but he couldn’t be sure from this distance. As he neared, he determined that one was a young boy. It was hard to tell how old the other was, but he was at least as tall as Maksym and wider: definitely not a little kid. The older one was doing all the work. The younger occasionally managed to get a clod or two on his shovel. Even with the strong backlight, Grygoriy could see a stubborn, sullen expression on little one’s face. The big guy’s face was blank.

Antin and Marynia strolled forward, just out for a walk.

Grygoriy hung back and moved his rifle to ready. He checked the rear.

Marynia said, “Excuse me, sorry to bother you, can you tell us about this place?”

The younger boy yelled and brandished his shovel. The older dropped his and grabbed a rifle off the ground.

Grygoriy tensed but didn’t aim yet. It would only take a fraction of a second.

The big guy stopped as if he had been clubbed over the head. He stared, mouth hanging open.

What? Was he having a seizure? Oh. Eros. Someone should take those arrows away from the nasty little sniper. Grygoriy could imagine what Marynia looked like to the stranger, taller than most adults, emerging from the river with the early morning light full upon her shining, chestnut hair under her pink knit hat, the high cheekbones, the blazing smile, and the big, bright blue eyes. The poor fellow was obviously smote good, and then some. Problems. Shit.

The big guy cleared his throat. “Um. What do you want to know?”

“We’re looking for a way to cross the river without using the road. Who are you burying?” Marynia gestured to the body. “Do you need any help?”

Big one looked at the body and wiped his eye with a gloved hand, leaving a smear of dirt across his face. “Grandpa. He couldn’t get his medicine. We tried to get to the hospital after the pharmacy ran out, but we had to turn around too many times because of the guns and bombs and mines. Then it was too late. I could use some help. Grandpa said that this is the easiest place to dig, but it’s still tough.”

“I’m Grygoriy. This is Marynia and Antin.” He strode forward and handed off his rifle to Antin.

“Nice to meet you all. I’m Oleksiy and this is my brother, Mykhailo.” He looked at his brother. “Give Grygoriy your shovel.” He looked at Marynia. “Would you mind holding onto this?”

“Sure, no problem.” She took the old-fashioned rifle. “I’m sorry about your grandpa. This war sucks. We’re trying to get away to the west.”

“We have to leave, too. Food’s running out, and the power and landline are off for good now. They won’t be back on because it’s a little place and hardly anyone’s here anymore. It’ll just get bombed off the map. I’m not sure what to do.” Oleksiy tossed a huge scoop of dirt onto the pile. The pit was enlarging rapidly.

Grygoriy kept the pace. He was pretty sure now that Oleksiy was young, not an adult. “Where are your parents?”

“The apartment was hit. Dad was volunteering with the Territorial Defense Forces and Mom worked for the city. They made us go to the country house, to Grandpa, when it started sounding like things were going to get serious. We heard what happened from a friend just before the internet went down for the last time.” He wiped his eyes again and tried to lean on his shovel. It went into the ground. He yanked it out and resumed flinging dirt into the pile. “I get a cell signal now, but I don’t know who or what it is, so Grandpa said not to try it. We’ve been getting the news from the car radio, but not lately because it’s almost out of gas.”

“I’m sorry. Most of us in the gang don’t have parents anymore. The news hasn’t changed much. Mariupol and its suburbs are being destroyed, but it’s still fighting like hell. Kiev still stands with big battles on all sides. The news from Kherson is bad, there’s been a ton of deportations and disappearances. Someone like you, you’re going to be fighting for the zwastikas or in an unheard-of town a thousand miles away. They like to steal people and claim they’re being evacuated or rescued.”

“That’s what we heard, too. Grandpa’s pretty mad about that and about having to be buried in the backyard. It was bad enough that Mom and Dad …” Oleksiy bit his lip and sighed. “The war spread so fast. One day we’re in the countryside, the next we’re in occupied territory. It’s unreal.”

“I think this is enough. It’s temporary. You’ll be back to give him a proper funeral.”

Oleksiy looked at the pit. “I hope so. I’ll say some prayers now.” He walked over to the blanketed body, crossed himself, and pressed his hands together. The words of the prayer were barely audible.

Grygoriy joined in, along with Marynia. Afterward, he helped move the body—Grandpa was light, skin and bones—then started flinging the earth back into the grave. He had to agree with Oleksiy; it was unreal. In his former life, he would never have dreamed he would bury a body in a backyard. Or a little girl in the wood. But however difficult it was for him, it was horrible, awful for Oleksiy. And Mykhailo. And Veronika. And Mykola. He sighed.

“To the north, there’s a way over the river. It’s not very deep most of the time, but the ground is a swamp once it warms up. The farmhouse on the other side made a bridge for their grandkids to visit their friends here in the village, so they don’t have to go all the way around to the road. I’ll show you, but could we come, too?” Oleksiy glanced at him from across the rapidly filling hole.

“I’m not in charge, but I’m pretty sure we’ll be glad to have you.” Grygoriy was happily imagining him lugging the spare packs, and he was certain Marynia and Antin were thinking the same. “How long will it take you to be ready?”

“We’re ready. Grandpa insisted he didn’t want us hanging around his deathbed when we had stuff to do, told us to say goodbye and finish up. By the time we were done, he was gone.” He looked in the grave for a few moments, his face unreadable. The shovel resumed its task.

“A brave man,” said Marynia. “I wish I had been able to meet him.”

“He was a good man and a great grandpa. He tried to get us to leave earlier, but I couldn’t do that. Mom and Dad wouldn’t have liked it, either. They didn’t know how sick he was. He kept it from them.” Oleksiy finished tamping down the earth and tossed the shovel toward the shed. He grabbed a wheelbarrow loaded with a huge pile of bricks, shoved it to the mound, and began placing the blocks over the fresh dirt.

Mykhailo sat on a log and watched his brother and Grygoriy work.

“Done. One more prayer.” This time Oleksiy didn’t pray aloud. When he was finished, he looked up at the sky. “Time to go. Be right back.” And he was, carrying two backpacks, large and small. He tossed the small one to his brother, almost knocking him over, and slid into his own.

Mykhailo whined, “It’s too heavy! I can’t get it on.”

“Put it on the log and back into it.” Oleksiy looked around. “This little village has been here forever. He loved it more than anyplace on Earth. Mom, too. I hate that it’s going to be destroyed.” He sighed and then faced the others. “Ready?”

Antin said, “I’ll lead by a few paces. Then Marynia and Mykhailo. Then Grygoriy and Oleksiy. Try to look innocent. Just out for a stroll with our rifles.”

“You’re in charge?” Big guy looked surprised.

“For now. We could scout the crossing you recommend, but we’ll see what the bosses say first.”

“Sounds good. I was pretty worried about getting anywhere on our own. I’d never even made a fire until recently. City boys.”

Antin, Marynia, and Mykhailo marched away at a quick pace, and Grygoriy followed with Oleksiy. Marynia was chatting with the little boy about what life was like in the tiny village. He sounded happier talking about the other kids who used to live here and the things they liked to do together.

Oleksiy said, “She’s good with kids.”

Grygoriy shrugged. “My little sister likes her a lot, but says she can be bossy. I agree.”

“She’s not your girlfriend?”

Eros, you dork. “Me? Her? No. I mean, I like her and she’s good-looking in that high-fashion model way, all legs and arms, but what I really like are big butts. Any big butts pass my way, it’s all over.” He fondly recalled his favorite butts from school. “My history teacher has a record-breaking butt, and she likes to write and draw maps on the whiteboard. When she does, her butt does this dance.” He made a swinging gesture with his hands. “Mesmerizing. It’s knocked at least three points off my grade point average. Don’t tell anyone, I don’t want my Achilles heel known to all and sundry.”

Big guy laughed. “I won’t. It seems strange to laugh. I haven’t laughed since … Thanks.”

Grygoriy grinned. “Well, don’t thank me yet. How old are you?”

Oleksiy raised an eyebrow. “Fifteen. Why? How old are you?”

“I’m fourteen and trying to decide whether to kill you now or later. Because Marynia is thirteen. If you even look at her any time in the next five years, I’ll kill you. Except you’ll already be dead because others will beat me to it.”

“No shit. I thought she was older than me. But you don’t need to worry about that.”

Grygoriy tried to raise one eyebrow. Both eyebrows did something. He needed more practice. “Why don’t I need to worry?”

“Because I have no intention of looking at anyone until I’m married.”

“No shit.”

“No shit.”

“Galahad, isn’t that antiquated?”

“Never met her.” Oleksiy shrugged. “But I used to have an Auntie Anastasiya. We all hated it when she came to visit because she insisted on cooking.”

Terror. The bitter wind howled through skeletal trees. Shadows swirled and merged on every side into impenetrable gloom. I’m here, where are you? He took a deep breath. Slow, careful steps. Follow the midnight pools of footprints, gathering the flowing darkness into infinite pits of nothing. Around the tree. I’m here, where are you? Listen, look. Down the little slope. Look, listen. I’m here, where are you? Between the bushes, arm raised against the sharp claws reaching for his eyes. On and on. Sounds. Distant. He stopped and ducked behind a tree. I’m here, where are you? Nothing. No one. After a few minutes, he continued. Ponds of obscurity, viscous crude lapping the trunks, draining away to a smear across the little clearing, dark upon darkness. A struggle.

Shit. Shitshitshit. Grygoriy leaned up against a tree, blending in. He was supposed to retreat, go back to camp, sound the alarm. He couldn’t. He just could not do that. He waited, then stepped out onto the trail again. No one shot him.

Onward, quick, quiet, shadow to inky shadow. A faint glow up ahead. Closer. Voices. He slowed. Light. A fire. Louder. Brighter. Closer. He froze behind a tree.

“Hell, no. I got no interest in some skinny cunt. She’s a kid, got no tits or hair, looks like my skinny-ass little brother.”

“Pussy is pussy.”

“Whatever.”

“No it’s not, what’s wrong with you.”

“Timur can’t get a real woman, that’s what.”

“No one wants to see his hairy ass. What the hell’s wrong with a bedroom? There’s one right over there.”

“That’s bullshit. You know how those shitheads in the tank are.”

“Yeah, but what a way to go.”

“Blown to fucking pieces by our own guys? What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

“No, I meant—”

“We know what you meant, dumbass. Shut the fuck up.”

“Timur’s going to be humping our legs next.”

 “I ain’t letting that hairy asshole anywhere near my little brother.”

Grygoriy dropped to the ground and scooted forward. There, between the trees. Muffled screams. Marynia.

“Come on, bitch. You know you like it.”

“You’re an ass-licking, shitfaced, loser pervert! Your whore-of-mother hates you!” Marynia’s voice. There was a sound of spitting.

Grygoriy heard the sound of fist on flesh. He crawled faster.

Marynia yelled obscenities.

He saw fist on flesh. Dark blotches of blood on the icy white ground. Marynia’s blood. He was furious, almost mindless with rage. Stop. Stop it. Remember. Don’t lose it, don’t lose your head. Remember.

An accented voice said in a foreign language, “Scream away, slut. No one cares.”

Oh shit, oh shit, shit, shit. Grygoriy aimed. It was so hard, so goddamned hard not to pull the trigger. The hardest thing he’d ever done. Remember, there was only one chance to save Marynia. If he screwed up, they would both die while leading the zwastikas straight to the camp, to Katryna. Sofiyko. Lyaksandro. Shitshitshit. Keep calm. He was hyperventilating. Breathe. He wanted to pull the trigger so bad. Way too many zwastikas. He wasn’t good enough. He checked his spare mags. Wait. Wait for the right time, don’t be forced into action, don’t react with mindless violence. Oh, how he wanted to pull that goddamned trigger, kill that scum. Be ready. Wait. Hang on, Marynia, hang on. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I can’t shoot that evil filthy shit. Be ready. Hang on, please hang on.

The sound of breaking glass.

“Humpur, you ass-licking shitface, what the fuck are you doing now?”

“You heard that bitch. No one talks trash about my mom.” The words were followed by a stream of unintelligible invective.

His aim had to be perfect. Who was in charge? That one. Breathe.

“You’re going to stick a skinny little bitch with a broken bottle because she said something about your mommy? Not on my watch. You had your fun, knock it off.” The zwastika stood up. “The rest of us thought it was pretty good stuff, wanted to hear what she was going to call the loser pervert next.” He grinned.

No. Ass-licking, shitfaced, loser pervert wasn’t sticking a broken bottle anywhere. Grygoriy aimed. Dear mommy’s boy first. Dear leader next. I’m sorry, Katryna. I love you.

“What the fuck, Humpur.”

“Fucking nut.”

“I don’t want to say anything bad about your mommy, Humpur, but you know, if she didn’t teach you not to stick broken bottles into little girls, I gotta wonder.”

“She didn’t teach him not to stick his dick in little girls, either.”

“What a woman. Maybe Humpur will introduce us all to Mommy someday.”

Timur stood still for a moment. He hurled the bottle against the wall of the house and stomped off, yelling something.

Grygoriy’s hands shook. Be still. Wait. Be still now. Wait. Deep, long breaths.

The other zwastikas stood around the fire, drinking from bottles and talking trash about Humpur’s mommy. Marynia curled up against a tree, her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms bound behind, the rope around her neck tied to a branch.

Zwastikas wandered off. Only two remained. Now? Marynia was freezing, dying, there wasn’t much more time. Hang on, hang on, Marynia, please hang on. One walked over to her and drew a knife.

The perfect shot, he needed the perfect shot, now. Grygoriy took a steadying breath and aimed. Time slowed down.

The orc cut the rope to the tree. He cut Marynia’s bonds, said something to her, helped her up, and walked away.

It was so hard not to shoot.

Marynia staggered. She wove a drunken path through the thin layer of crunchy snow, naked and alone, falling at the edge of the trees. She leaned up against one.

Get up, Marynia, get up. A few more feet and they can’t see us. Please, you can do it. He scrabbled closer and chirped softly.

She crawled on her hands and knees farther into the deep shadows and stopped, struggling to get the rope from around her neck.

He whispered, “It’s me, I’m here. Hold on.” He lunged forward, grabbed her, and scrambled back behind the tree.

“I knew you wouldn’t leave.” She got the rope off and threw it as hard as she could. She fell to her knees again.

“Never. Grab on.” He opened his big coat and jacket. “Hold onto me.”

“I can’t. I can’t do that. Don’t touch me again. Don’t ever touch me.” She shook her head wildly, teeth chattering, shuddering, hunched over with arms wrapped tightly around herself.

“I’m sorry. We can’t make a fire, you need my body heat, we have to get you warm or you’re going to die, you don’t have long, and we need to get the hell out of here. Pretend it’s not me, think of Sofiyko and Lyaksandro, hit me, kick me, whatever you have to do, just let me help, please let me help. Please.”

She stared at him with loathing, shaking violently, then squeezed shut her eyes. “Sofiyko. Lyaksandro. I won’t give up. I will not. Never.” The whispered words whisked away into the dark. Finally she nodded, took a deep breath, and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, whimpering with the pain.

“Hold on for as long as you can, keep your legs and feet up. I’ll go as fast as I can.” Grygoriy felt her warm blood through his shirt and her ice cold legs and feet around his back. He bit his lip. He wanted to kill. He zipped the big coat as far as it would go, made sure her arms and hands were covered, used his scarf to cover her shoulders, and managed to get his full face-mask balaclava over her head. He strode through the trees and brush at an angle to intercept the return path as soon as possible. He wanted to run. It was close to pitch-black, he was crying, and he didn’t have the strength. He sucked down a deep breath and blinked rapidly. Carefully, shadow to shadow. It seemed like hours were passing with each meter gained. “What did he say to you, the zwastika who let you go?”

“He said he’s going to kill the perv, he has little sisters. But it can’t be done now, too many witnesses. He and that other zwastika were talking about how they would do it. I heard them.”

“So noble of him to send you off into the freezing night, injured, naked, and alone after watching you be beaten and raped. Such a hero. I bet his sisters hate his fucking guts, the slimy shit.” Grygoriy wanted to kill. “It is so hard not to shoot that scum.”

“They hope I die. They might kill the asshole rapist bastard to protect their precious little sisters, but they hope I die along with all Ukrainians. They didn’t lift a finger to help me. There was no talk of saving anyone from anything. Ukrainians dead or gone, period. I’m glad you didn’t shoot. The thought of them anywhere near Sofiyko—” She retched and vomited over his shoulder. After a while, she raised her bruised, swollen face. “I think I can walk for a little way now.”

“No, you can’t. That’s absurd. As long as it takes is as long as it takes, and if I need to rest I will. We’re very late. They’ll be looking for us.” His voice broke. He used to hate that. He could care less anymore.

In about an hour, he was through the long belt of trees and into a field. His skin crawled as if there were a big, fat, glowing target on his back. He picked up the pace. He was stronger than he had ever been; in his old life, he could never have carried Marynia this far. She was a head taller than he, and no light-weight even though she was so thin. What would he do if he couldn’t do it? He would make a shelter, a fire, and keep her warm; the others would find them.

Marynia was slipping. She was shaking, her arms and legs sliding off again and again.

He stopped to adjust his grip.

“I don’t think I can hang on much longer.”

“There’s an evergreen with low branches up ahead. We’re far enough away; I’ll make a fire.” He ducked under the branches and lowered her to the ground. Cursing himself that the thermal blanket was in his backpack, he quickly shed his big coat and wrapped her in it. He would keep a blanket in his coat or gear belt from now on. He quickly gathered what dead sticks and twigs he could, chopped them up with his hatchet, got the fire going, and lopped off sufficient live branches from the leeward side of the tree to make a windbreak. It was an awkward, sloppy, half-teepee propped against an overhanging branch, but better than nothing; most of his rope was in the backpack, too. After doing a farther sweep for dry firewood, he crowded in next to Marynia, careful not to bump anything. “Should I go back for my backpack?” He pulled out his water bottle and held it for her.

She was sitting as close to the fire as she could get, her legs and arms tucked into the coat. “No. If they don’t come soon, you should go on to camp, get my spare clothes.” She took a few sips and put her head down on her knees.

“There’s no way I’m leaving you here alone.” He slipped off his boots, removed his socks, and warmed them by the fire for a few moments. “Give me your feet.”

“You need those.”

“No, the boots are enough here by the fire.” The ice had sliced through the skin in places. Her feet weren’t bleeding any more but they weren’t warm either. “I want you to take my gloves, too.” He scooted behind her, put a leg on each side, and wrapped his jacket around her as far as it would go.

After a long while, Marynia stopped shaking.

Grygoriy stared over her shoulder at the flames being whipped sideways by the wind, little showers of sparks leaving a trail across the snow. Find us, find us, hurry, we need help. His thoughts ricocheted around. What could he have done differently? What should he have done? Find us, find us. Should he have insisted they stay together? Then they both would’ve been ambushed. It was unlikely that he would’ve noticed a trap when Marynia didn’t. He added another little log to the fire, setting free a swirl of sparks into the dark. What could he have done? Find us, hurry.

In the icy distance, faint birdsong: I’m here, where are you?

Help.

Coming. I’m here, where are you?

Help.

Coming. I’m here, where are you?

Help.

Maksym ran from the shadows. “Marynia, can you stand up for a second? Zlata, a blanket.”

“Marynia, oh, Marynia.” Zlata pulled a thermal blanket from her scout pack.

Grygoriy tried to help Marynia stand. She couldn’t. He knocked down the windbreak to make room.

Zlata laid out the blanket and he helped Maksym move Marynia onto it. They wrapped her up and Maksym lifted her. 

After kissing Marynia, Zlata handed another blanket to Grygoriy and led the way, moving fast, crying hard.

He tied it around himself as well as possible, kicked some snow and dirt over the fire, and guarded the rear.

After an eternity, the guard challenged.

Maksym ran ahead and Zlata raced after him.

Grygoriy rested his forearm against a tree and leaned in, covering his eyes with it. He wasn’t sure he could even make it to the camp. After a minute, he forced himself forward.

“I’ve got your back.” Myroslava’s voice came from somewhere overhead.

Waving acknowledgment, he unloaded his rifle, tucked his freezing hands into his pockets, and shuffled icy feet through the last, gray, miserable paces.

Maksym was waiting by the fire, his balaclava masking his features. Antin and Veronika were there, both of them pale and still, radiating fury.

Grygoriy took a deep breath. “She split us up to fill the smaller packs and was ambushed by zwastikas at the second-to-the-last target. There were at least ten. I don’t know if they’re still there. It seemed to me that they thought she was alone and from the village. After they took her, they didn’t watch for anyone else or backtrack. Our packs are at the rendezvous, loaded. That’s all I can say for now.”

Maksym grabbed his shoulder squeezed. “Thanks.” He looked at the others. “You’ll check it out, get the goods if you can, and leave no trace starting from the fire under the evergreen next to the eighth field. Get ready.”

Antin and Veronika grabbed their water bottles from beside the fire and raced to get their scouting gear.

“Get some food and rest.” Maksym gave his shoulder another squeeze. “We’ll talk later.”

If Maksym squeezed his shoulder again, Grygoriy was going to punch him. He had no interest in food, rest, or anything about himself. He crawled into the shelter. At the far end of the crowded space, Marynia huddled with Zlata, sobbing quietly into her shoulder. He joined the mound of warm, safe, sleeping children, easing under the blankets, trying not to wake anyone. Katryna was asleep next to Sofiyko. He wrapped his cold arms around her; she murmured something but didn’t wake. Staring at the blurry stick and blanket ceiling through his tears, he listened to her soft breathing. How could he ever have taken her for granted? He was a fool. Even with his avid study of ancient history, he still hadn’t fully understood. Even when Maksym said that orcs aren’t allowed near Larysa, even when Zlata said that those things happen to other people, even when his parents and dozens of other innocent people at the clinic had been slaughtered, he didn’t get it. He did now. He would throw one hell of a party for anyone who would do humanity the favor of removing Humpur and his buddies from the face of the Earth, and he wouldn’t mind at all if he were the guest of honor.

He whispered Katryna’s favorite poems.

Fast, fast! Get up, fast! One of Marynia’s eyes was shut. Bleeding. Her mouth was bleeding. She had a funny blanket on. He patted her. He couldn’t say anything now. It was too hard. Too scary. She knew. She never tried to make him talk.

“I’m all right.” Her voice was strange, like a frog. There were marks on her neck.

He was afraid to cry. It made the horrible monster-man mad. He said boys don’t cry. Marynia said that was a lie. But it made her sad when he cried. He shouldn’t make her be sad. He rubbed his eyes and crawled into her lap. She made a sound and sat very straight.

Zlata held out her arms. “Lyaksandro, come sit with me. Let your sister be for a while.”

Marynia shook her head. “No. My little sunny one always makes me feel better, always helps. Thanks for waking and coming to check on me.” She kissed him and hugged him hard. “I got hurt by some orcs, but I’m all right. Everything’s all right. Don’t be scared. No one will hurt you. In a minute, I’m going to the little tent so Zlata can help me with the bandages and medicine. They’re getting it ready.” She looked at him with one eye. “Try to go back to sleep now and then come check on me later, after I’ve had some sleep. I’m very tired, so tired. Please?”

He took deep, slow breaths like she taught him. He nodded, kissed her, and crawled back under the covers by Grygoriy. Katryna was on the other side. The big boy was sad. He had tears on his face. He didn’t sleep in the shelter very much. He slept in the tents or hammocks. Maksym put his head through the door. He and Zlata helped Marynia go outside.

Lyaksandro didn’t want her to go. But she was hurt. Zlata would help her not be hurt. He should go to the little tent. But Marynia wanted to sleep. Alone. That was different. New. He didn’t like it. It felt bad. She always slept with Sofiyko and him before. Because they had bad dreams.

Grygoriy was saying a poem. Grandma Oksana liked poems. Outside, the new big boy was yelling. He was mad, really, really mad. He wants to kill orcs. Maksym said something but Lyaksandro didn’t understand all the words. He didn’t understand the poem, either. But it reminded him of music. Of singing. After a while he stopped shivering.

“Good morning, it’s time to get up, good morning, good morning!” Sofiyko’s voice sounded like little bells, the high ones. She didn’t sing her whole song. It was really long with all the things to do in the morning, like brushing teeth. And she added new ones, too, like making fires and melting water. She smiled at him. Her long, brown hair tickled his face.

Lyaksandro smiled back. She looked like a Marynia fairy. People said that. Her hands and feet were small. “Good morning, good morning.” He didn’t know why he could sing sometimes but not talk.

“Come eat breakfast. It’s ready.” She helped him up. “Marynia said you were upset last night.” Big eyes, little face. There was a wrinkle on her forehead. That meant she was scared. “Orcs hurt her. She says she’ll be all better soon. Next time get me up, too. Then we can be upset together.”

He nodded and whispered, “I will.” He crawled out of the shelter’s low opening. Breakfast smelled very good. There were crackers! The foragers found crackers! He loved crackers.

Myroslava walked around with the open package. “Only two, only take two.”

Next to him, Yaryna sat up in a pile of blankets. She talked to her crackers. She put food in wrong places sometimes, like in her boots. It was Sofiyko’s turn to help her eat.

He looked at his crackers. Grandma Oksana always bought his favorite kind. He missed her a lot. He could talk to her. And she would sing with him. She knew a lot of songs. He wondered if his sisters forgot. No. They were busy. They couldn’t be sad all the time. Marynia said that. They had to run away now. Be sad later.

He went with the other boys to be cleaned. The big kids could use the potty-place to get clean. Little kids like him weren’t allowed to get that cold. They had to be by the fire. Zlata hung blankets up on ropes so they stayed warm. Lyaksandro thought it was stupid. But Yaryna was hurt. She screamed and screamed. It hurt him. Hurt his head. Made his heart pound so loud. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know why she screamed. Marynia told him later. Yaryna was hurt because there was no one to help her. She couldn’t take care of herself. She tried, but she was just little. She had big sores from the dirt. It made her scream. It wasn’t stupid to be clean even if he got dirty again right away. Zlata worked hard cleaning things. She wants to be a doctor when she grows up. She knows lots of stuff. It’s important to have very short fingernails. Because they’re easy to keep clean. Marynia didn’t have long, pretty fingernails anymore.

Mykola helped him today. Lyaksandro was glad because Mykhailo was a bully. He was always pinching, shoving, and punching Krystiyan, Borysko, and Lyaksandro. And saying mean things. When he thought no one was looking. He stared at girls when they were in the potty-place, too. Sofiyko didn’t like it. Marynia said to ignore him because was just seven. A little boy. He’s not a monster-man. He’s being a bully because he’s angry and confused. Like Grygoriy was at first. He was the center of his world and now it’s gone. Mykhailo never had any sisters. He’s curious about girls. That doesn’t make it right. But he’s had a rough time. Give him a few more days. If he’s still being a pest, she’ll talk with the other big kids about it.

But Mykola could make him stop. When Oleksiy made Mykhailo stop, then he was even meaner, later. Krystiyan was older than Mykhailo. Mykhailo was bigger than Krystiyan. Sofiyko said Krystiyan was shy. That was why he didn’t talk much to most people. Not because he couldn’t. But he liked to sing, too. Krystiyan liked to sing in trees. That was new. Grandma never sang in trees. Krystiyan was nice. He had black glasses that looked like big squares. He put them on the tree branch, and Lyaksandro stepped on them. But Krystiyan didn’t tattle-tale. He said he did it. Now his glasses had a lot of tape.

Borysko ran out from the blanket-room. His wet hair stood up around his head. A cloud of steam came off him. He ran through the camp in just his boots. He had a stick like it was a sword. He yelled something. The big kids laughed. Veronika stopped him. Borysko waved the stick at her and yelled, “Begone foul demon!” She made a mad face and pointed at the blanket-room. He ran away. But Veronika picked him up. He called her names and hit her with the stick. She took it away from him and brought him back to the fire. Borysko yelled and kicked. Mykola grabbed him and washed his face.

Lyaksandro had never run naked in his boots. That was new. Next time, he would run naked in his boots. It looked fun.

It seemed like a long time since there was sunshine. But it was warmer than yesterday. They could play today when they walked. Everyone was going to the new camp. It was on the other side of a river. There was a way over. Another little bridge for people. Lyaksandro didn’t know before that there were so many little rivers. He didn’t go over the same one every day, like before. He went over new ones.

He and Krystiyan climbed trees. Oleksiy was in the back. When he caught up, they ran ahead to find new trees. Now the big boy said it was time to be quiet and not play anymore. Lyaksandro climbed down and put his backpack on again. They were passing houses on this side. They were close. He couldn’t see them. They were over there somewhere, past the trees. The scouts were looking at the houses. Then foragers would go back later, after dark.

Boom. Boom. Boom. He fell to the ground and covered his ears. One, two, three … Little bombs together. Really close, like at the hospital. Not like the big bombs that lit up the sky at night. Oleksiy picked him and Krystiyan up and ran. Lyaksandro didn’t like that. He didn’t want Oleksiy to pick him up. He fought. The big boy jumped into the ditch between the wood and bushes. It was muddy. Lyaksandro kicked him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Stay here and keep your head down, all right? Don’t try to see out.” Oleksiy let them go.

Krystiyan said, “Where are Myroslava and Grygoriy?”

Oleksiy left the ditch.

Lyaksandro grabbed Krystiyan’s hand. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Marynia, Marynia, where are you? He took deep breaths. Then there was smoke. Like at the hospital. It was bad. He couldn’t take deep breaths. They left the ditch and went into the wood, away from the smoke. Krystiyan’s glasses were broken again. He did birdsong, over and over. Oleksiy, Grygoriy, and Myroslava found them. Oleksiy carried someone. A boy. His face was very dirty. He cried a little. There was blood on his head. And ears.

Oleksiy sat down with the boy and coughed. He said, “Parents?”

“The window is too small, the house is on fire, destroyed, she can’t get out, her parents are trapped under something. She said to take him, to save him. She’s his sister.” Myroslava was shaking. Her face was dirty and her voice was different.

No one talked. Because they were sad. Because people were dying. Right now. Over there.

“I think I know who he is but I don’t remember his name. His parents are from Crimea. They escaped from there. His sister, Melie, is seventeen, maybe. I met them at a picnic last year. We talked for a while. You’re sure we can’t help?” Oleksiy’s face was still.

Lyaksandro couldn’t tell what his face meant.

Myroslava covered her mouth and nodded. “We couldn’t see. We couldn’t breathe. Smoke is pouring out everywhere, really bad, really thick.” She coughed for a long time. She held onto a tree and was sick.

Grygoriy looked sick. His face was dirty, too. He helped Myroslava be sick. Then he sat on the ground and put his head down.

Lyaksandro crawled under a bush.

There was more birdsong. Maksym and Zlata came.

Krystiyan ran and hugged Zlata.

She kissed him. “I was so scared. I’m so glad you’re all right.” She wiped her eyes. Then she held out her arms and Oleksiy gave her the boy.

Grygoriy told them what happened. 

Maksym said, “Zwastikas are coming. We need to get on the other side of the river right away. We’ll stay there for a little while to see if the boy’s family survived or if he has relatives near. The zwastikas probably don’t know about the pedestrian bridge, and we have to make sure they don’t find out from us, so we need to leave-no-trace. Grygoriy and Myroslava, can you do it?”

Myroslava took a deep breath. “I think so, as long as it’s just from here. No one should be in that smoke.”

“Everyone, quiet, quick. Lyaksandro and Krystiyan, come with me and Oleksiy.” Maksym held out his hand.

Lyaksandro crawled out from under the bush.

Maksym picked him up. “Marynia wanted to come, but I asked her to stay with Sofiyko and Yaryna. She’s really, really scared for you. I’m glad you’re all right.”

He wanted Marynia to come. But it was good that she was with Sofiyko and Yaryna. Safe. Maksym was safe. And Zlata. And Mykola. Marynia said that was good. Lyaksandro was learning. Growing up. Knowing who to trust. He didn’t care about that. But Marynia liked it. So it was good. He wanted to grow up so he was big and strong. Then he would be safe. She would be safe. Sofiyko would be safe. People thought he didn’t remember. Because he was too little. But he did. It was in his dreams. The sounds. The footsteps. The voice. Boys don’t cry. The smell. The fists. The mean eyes. The belt. Marynia flying through the air. Falling. But she got up. She fought. She always fought for him. She never gave up. He wouldn’t, either. Someday he would be bigger than the horrible monster-man. Then the bad dreams would stop.

The others were there. Marynia ran to him and hugged him. She was crying hard. He didn’t want her to cry. It made him afraid. He patted her.

“I know, I know, I’ll stop in a minute. I’m happy, I’m just so happy to see you.”

He didn’t cry when he was happy. It didn’t seem right.

Marynia groaned a little. “Here let me put you down. I can’t carry you yet.” She had frostbite. It was getting better, but she still limped.

Sofiyko was crying. Yaryna was crying. Lots of people were crying. They didn’t look happy. Myroslava and Grygoriy came.

Maksym looked around. “Kids first, fast. We’ll come back for the packs. Antin on rearguard. Myroslava, lead.” He lifted Lyaksandro again.

Grygoriy picked up Katryna. Oleksiy picked up Viktoriya and Sofiyko. Veronika carried Borysko. Marynia had Yaryna in her sling. Zlata carried the new boy. Then Myroslava ran ahead with her rifle. Mykola, Larysa, Krystiyan, and Mykhailo ran after her. Everyone ran.

Maksym put Lyaksandro down at the river. He could walk now if he held Maksym’s hand. The little bridge across the river was scary. Not because the water was deep. It wasn’t. It wasn’t really a river. It was little streams in the same place, winding around like snakes. But anyone could see him on the bridge. Strangers could see him. What if the horrible monster-man came back? With the other monsters? The orcs? He was glad when he got to the trees on the other side. He hid under the bushes again. He wasn’t big enough yet. He needed to be bigger.

Wood was burning in the fire pit. It made hissing noises. And sometimes a sound like when Marynia shook out a pillowcase. And popping sounds. Snow melted by the fire. Everyone ate and drank. Clean-up. No one talked. Everyone was sad. Myroslava and Grygoriy had bandages on their faces because they had blisters.

Lyaksandro ducked through the door of the little tent. He watched Zlata clean Marynia’s face where the cuts were. And then her frostbite sores. Then both of them started cleaning the new boy. He had some cuts, too.

Marynia said, “How old is he, do you think?”

“I’d say six or seven. The trip was brutal for someone in his condition. He’s in a lot of pain. There are injuries that we can’t see. He’s very stoic. He needs to be prone and eat, drink, and sleep to heal himself if he can. I hope there’s a hospital open nearby. The scouts are going to check when they go back to look for survivors.” Zlata looked at the boy’s eyes again. “I hope he’s not alone.”

Marynia whispered. Zlata whispered. They both looked at him.

He didn’t like that. Did he do something bad?

“He looks like you did. The last time. When I took you and Sofiyko and ran away in the dark.”

Lyaksandro crawled closer. He didn’t know that Marynia ran away in the dark. He looked at the new boy. Still. Silent.

Marynia whispered, “Nice people saw us. Strangers. They drove us to the hospital. They helped. Like we’re helping this boy. I don’t know if you remember. It was a long time ago now. But you do remember things. I know you do. Do you remember what it was like then? What did it feel like? How can we help him better? If you can’t say, that’s all right.”

He didn’t remember. Then he did. Hospital. Long time ago. Before Grandma Oksana. Bright light, like lightning. Flashes. Faces. Sounds. Sirens. Hurt. Light. Hurt. Noise. Hurt. Everything. Hurt. Hurt. Hurt. A big drum. Hurt, hurt, hurt. He rubbed his eyes. Breath went in and out too fast.

“Don’t say, you don’t need to say. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Marynia hugged him tight.

He didn’t like strangers. They were mean. Marynia wanted him to help. Nice strangers helped her. Helped him. Zlata used to be a stranger. She was nice. She wanted him to help. The stranger-boy needed help. Maybe he was nice. Marynia said he looked like Lyaksandro. When there was the big drum. Hurt, hurt, hurt. He wanted to help. “White. Sharp. Bright. White knives. Eyes. Hurt, hurt, hurt. Knives. Sounds. Sirens. Claws. Hurt, hurt, hurt. Go away. Far away. Hurt, hurt, hurt. Stay away.”

Marynia and Zlata put their ears closer.

Zlata whispered, “Do you remember drinking? Swallowing?”

“Hurt. Go away.”

Zlata straightened up. “His eyes and ears should be covered.” She looked at the new boy. She was sad. “He’s in even more pain than I thought. His own heartbeat hurts him.” She wiped her eyes and took Lyaksandro’s hands. “I am so, so sorry you were hurt so very bad. You are the bravest boy. Thank you for helping.” She looked at Marynia. “Find the softest of everything that you can. I still don’t know whether to put him on his stomach because I’m afraid he’ll choke, or to prop him up because I’m afraid he’ll suffocate.”

“I wish I could help more. I was too young to understand much. All I know is that they said Lyaksandro was hurt really bad, bruised, everywhere inside. And outside. He could drink from a straw, but he didn’t want to.” Marynia looked at the new boy. She was sad, too.

Lyaksandro patted her and held the boy’s hand.

“Yes, you can help. You’re a good listener.” Marynia looked at Zlata.

“If his breathing changes, if he coughs or wakes up, you need to get me, fast. Can you do that?” Zlata had eyelashes like sunshine.

He nodded. He listened almost all the time. Marynia said he had cat ears. They listen all the time too, even when they sleep. He didn’t know how people turned their ears off.

Zlata talked to him about what she was doing. “We have to put the ointment on all over because he has to stay still. But bodies aren’t made to stay still for a long time. They get sick. So, we’re going to put it everywhere. And we have to make sure that his face is never covered up.”

Marynia came back with the blankets and earmuffs. She and Zlata made a bed. They put blankets under the new boy’s shoulders. They tied a dark sock over his eyes.

Zlata shook her head. “It’s not high enough, but we can’t spare any more. I’ll have to ask Mykola to make a frame. Wait. Let me check.” She took a clean cloth from the pile and put it in the water bucket. She put a corner in the sick boy’s mouth.

His lips moved and he swallowed. He turned his head a little and made a sound. His eyes moved under his lids. But he didn’t open them.

“Oh, thank you, thank you. Little one, I’m sorry, I know that hurt, I know we’re hurting you. I’m sorry.” Zlata sat back. “I’ll ask for a frame, anyway. It’s a good idea.”

“How do you know these things?”

“I guess because I’m interested in them, but there’s so much I don’t know like whether unconscious people choke or not and why. I always want to know all the details.” Zlata made a face but Lyaksandro didn’t know what it meant. “It embarrassed my mom to no end. She stopped taking me on hospital visits and to funerals, would tell everyone I had the flu.”

“Oh. That is a little awkward, come to think of it. So sorry for your loss, can I have the dear departed’s medical records? But I’m glad you did. Is there anything else you need? I have to report for guard duty.” Marynia stroked Lyaksandro’s hair back. “You need a trim soon.”

He frowned. Haircuts were itchy.

“No, I think we’ve done everything we can for now. I need to get dinner going and do a clothing inventory.” Zlata looked at Lyaksandro. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

He nodded. The boy’s breathing was good. Soft, like Sofiyko’s. There was nothing to do. He went and got his backpack. The toy animals lined up in a row next to the new boy. They each played a different note. There weren’t enough, so they only played his favorite notes.

It wasn’t the horrible monster-man at night. It was Maksym. He sat by the door instead of outside in a tree. That was what woke Lyaksandro up. The tent was a lot smaller. Because Maksym took up a lot of room. His head touched the top. A little light came through the opening. It was firelight.

“Veronika and Antin are back. They found some first aid supplies in a garage. They didn’t find any survivors from the houses that got bombed.”

Zlata said, “I’ll sort through what they brought in a moment, but from what you told me, there’s not much that can be done. He needs a hospital.”

Maksym sighed. “We’ll stay closer to the roads and villages until we find one or someone who can get him there. After what Oleksiy said Melie said, I hate to leave him with zwastikas. But we have to.”

Zlata sighed, too. Her sighs were quiet, like Grandma Oksana’s. Maksym’s sighs were noisy, like Marynia’s.

“A stretcher is a problem when we’re constantly having to dodge through bushes. There’s an alternate route, but the lack of cover is not a good idea right now.” Maksym put his fingers through his hair. “Feels weird not to have a hat on. Also, the operators need practice before we let them actually carry anyone.”

Lyaksandro knew what a stretcher was. Some of the toy soldiers had them. The ones with crosses on. Soldiers need a lot of stretchers.

“Is there any part of Ukraine you haven’t trespassed?” Zlata smiled. “If the new boy has to be carried in a sling, then that’s that. But he should be carried on a stretcher when possible. But … he shouldn’t be swapped back and forth all day, either. So just let me know, is it sling country or stretcher country? If the middle children get restless, can I find something for them to do outside?”

“Stretcher practice volunteers. They get to be dumped on the ground and have big kids fall on them. Other than that, outside games are not a good idea. We can’t have a fire, so the warmer and drier everyone stays, the better. We’ll make another shelter for extra play space. I don’t think the orcs will be around for long. There’s nothing important here and the location has no strategic value. Just another deport and loot operation. As soon as it’s safe to move, we’ll go.”

“All right, we’ll manage. How’s Oleksiy?”

“He’s pretty shaken up still about everything, and he’s—” Maksym looked at Lyaksandro. “He’s an asset now that he knows he can’t go charging off to kill orcs under any circumstances. It took him a while to understand no heroics, unless he’s planning on not coming back. He got it eventually. It’s a relief to have someone his age and build with us. He tosses his backpack around like it’s a beach ball. Mykhailo’s pretty sturdy, too. I’d better try to get some sleep. See you later.”

Zlata scooted over and made sure the flaps were fastened over the door to keep out the wind.

Lyaksandro wondered what heroics were. He wished he could ask. He didn’t want to leave the new boy with zwastikas. They bomb hospitals. And steal kids. He couldn’t go to Grandma’s funeral because of them. He didn’t know if she had one. That was bad. He missed her a lot. She would tell him what heroics were. She always explained things. He didn’t have to ask. He lay back down and held the new boy’s hand.

Mykhailo could draw really, really good. Larysa let him use her notebook to make picture stories. They were funny. Lyaksandro watched. And learned. Then he played card games, clapping games, and string games with Viktoriya. She liked string games and knew a long one with rhymes. It was fun. He listened to stories.

The new boy woke up a little. He was in the shelter today. Because it was warmer than the tent. Zlata checked his ears. He still couldn’t hear good. She put the earmuffs back on. Because his ears needed to rest. She and Mykola helped him go pee in a bucket. Then she tried to get him to eat. He didn’t want food. He looked sick. He drank a little water with medicine mixed in because he hurt. Then he went back to sleep with the dark socks over his eyes.

Marynia was back. Lyaksandro crawled over to her and started crying. Just a little bit. He couldn’t help it. She was gone a long time. All day. He didn’t want her to get taken away. Like the people in the hospital. They didn’t come back. She held him and rocked. Sofiyko came, too, and held his hand. Then he could breathe again. He closed his eyes, listening to the quiet voices. Cold branches and twigs sounds. Dead grass whispers. Squeaky snow. Tinkles of snowflakes. Ice creaked. The silence spread out for a long way. There were no big noises near. Even the orcs were quiet now. He had never been to such a quiet place. He listened. The new boy’s breathing was awake again. Because his blindfold sock fell down. The light hurt. Lyaksandro went to fix it.

He made a zoo for the animals. It was next to the snow fort Borysko made for the soldiers. The soldiers would probably attack the zoo again. He made some snowballs. There wasn’t much snow left in the piles, but they didn’t have to save it for drinking anymore. It made his hands cold, because he forgot his mittens. The lions and elephants were ready.

“Ow! Quit it, Mykhailo.”

Lyaksandro looked around. Sofiyko was by the fire. She pulled her long braid over her shoulder so Mykhailo couldn’t reach it.

“Only stupid boys pull hair,” Larysa said. “Go away, we’re busy.”

They were making clothes for Yaryna because she was little. It was hard to find clothes for her. She needed a lot of clothes. She got them dirty fast. They liked to sew. They had to be close to the fire or their fingers got too cold. It had to be daylight or they couldn’t see good enough. They made big clothes smaller. They made little shirts and leggings from big shirts. And they made clothes for Yaryna’s doll, too. He got to help sometimes. The stitches were good, but he had to learn better where to put them and not sew sleeves shut.

The soldiers were coming. The gorilla threw a snowball at them. The soldiers threw it back, but the elephant was ready. It batted it away with its trunk. Then the lions and wolves came out to protect the other animals. The soldiers threw bomb-sticks, but the animals were too fast. They—

“Ow! Mykhailo, that hurts! Stop it!” Sofiyko sounded upset.

“It did not, whiny-face! Quit being such a baby.”

“It does, too!”

Larysa was gone. The big kids were busy doing stuff. They weren’t near. Lyaksandro frowned. Marynia said to ignore Mykhailo. But it wasn’t the same. Mykhailo was being mean to Sofiyko, not Lyaksandro. That was different. He went over to the fire.

“Oh, look! Little bubba’s coming to beat me up.” Mykhailo laughed.

There were tears in Sofiyko’s eyes. She was afraid. Lyaksandro didn’t like that. The bully reached for the braid, so he punched him in the mouth.

Mykhailo fell on his bottom. There was blood on his lips. He looked surprised. He held up a tooth and smiled. His other teeth were red with blood.

“Eew!” Sofiyko’s nose wrinkled.

Hitting the bully made his hand hurt. He should use something else. Lyaksandro picked up a thick branch from the little pile by the fire.

The bully’s eyes got big and he got up fast.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on there, Lyaksandro. I’ve got this.” Mykola patted his shoulder. “Good job knocking him down, but that’s enough for now, all right? You go sit down by Sofiyko. Mykhailo, you stupid butthead, get over here. We have to go find more firewood.” He shoved Mykhailo. “Let’s go.”

“Look! My tooth got knocked out!”

“Awesome. I’m sure it won’t be the last. You should save them all, make a necklace.”

“That would be cool, but will I have enough? Maybe—”

“Repellent child, wipe the blood off your face and listen up. Lyaksandro wasn’t playing with you. Next time, your whole head’s going to be knocked out.” The voices went farther and farther away. “You pull anyone’s hair again, I’m going to shave yours off. With a spoon.”

“But Mykola! How am I going to get my teeth knocked out if—”

Sofiyko said in his ear, “You punch really good. I’m glad Marynia taught you.”

He looked at his fist. There was blood on it. Gross. He wiped it off. There were a few scrapes. It was his blood, not Mykhailo’s. That was all right. He whispered, “Mykhailo’s weird.”

She nodded. “He thought it was funny that his tooth was knocked out. Do you need bandages?”

The cuts weren’t bleeding anymore. He looked over at the zoo. The soldiers were in it. The defenders needed help. He’d better go.

“If my ship sinks and I had only that one, well, I’m done. Probably dead, too. I get nervous if you and Antin are within three meters of each other. You and he definitely need to be on separate ships as far as I’m concerned.”

“Protecting your assets, spreading the risk. Makes sense.”

“I think you’re underestimating the benefits for you. However, I have no way to enforce anyone’s compliance. If you disagree, there’s no way I can stop you.” Maksym glanced at her, shrugged, and planted his binocular back on his face.

Myroslava glared at him for tossing such a tempting ball at her feet and putting the onus on her not to kick it. “I’ll definitely voice my opinion if I think it’s needed, but I’m not going to disobey direct orders, excuse me, suggestions. I was taught that the correct tool for the job is the one that should be used.” She was beginning to suspect nothing was actually being surveyed; the binoc was merely a complaints-avoidance prop.

“Good to know. My mom could get a hell of a lot done with a wooden clog and a metal nail file. To hell with traipsing out to the garage for a hammer and screwdriver. Your laziness takes the opposite route. You’d rather not get the job done at all than put up with inferior tools.” He smiled and shot her a sidelong glance. “If anything happens to me, you’re leader. You and Zlata.”

“What? Are you crazy? And of course I can get the job done—That’s not the—Oh, never mind.”

“A little crazy now and then. You have what it takes. The others don’t. Your brother calls you She Who Runs My Life.” Maksym chuckled. “And it’s true. You’re organized, you don’t panic, and you make quick, reasonable decisions. You prefer the correct tools, but you won’t have a meltdown when you discover you don’t have any because Larysa stole the sockets to use as finger puppets and drew little faces on them with indelible ink.”

“Did she really?”

“Yes. They were very cute. Naturally, all the little kids in the neighborhood were enthralled, so the local hardware store was sold out of sockets for several months. And lawnmower blades. And a few sizes of windowpanes. Everyone was terrified to mow for the rest of the summer. We recovered Big, Bad Wolf socket, Princess socket, and Frog socket—it kind of looked like a frog—but we never did find the others.”

Myroslava laughed. “That’s too funny, especially about the lawnmowers. But the others will never agree. Why not Antin? Or Grygoriy?”

“It’s not good when the leader keels over in emergencies. It doesn’t happen often, but until Antin learns to manage it or outgrows it, he can’t be in charge. You don’t respect Grygoriy enough, you’ll run roughshod over him, so you may as well skip that part and be leader.”

“Huh.”

“No one can force you to lead. If the time comes and you refuse, then that’s that. You can start practicing by being in charge of the duty roster. Zlata has veto power. She keeps the health and wellness spreadsheets. Listen to her.”

“She does? Hmm. All right.” On the one hand, she was being given the opportunity to directly rectify the errors which she had been so thoughtfully enumerating. On the other, Myroslava had a vague feeling that she was about to discover a flaming bag of poo on the doorstep.

“Human habitation nearby.” Maksym toed some trash with his boot. “The next leg is going to be extra dangerous.”

“Why?”

“A congestion of monstrous misconduct. We’re passing through an inhabited, narrow corridor between two rivers.”

“You’re in charge of the roster. I’ll say again that I think it’s a bad idea for you and Antin to partner unless it’s an emergency. Don’t forget to check in with Zlata. I’ll see you when you get back.” Maksym moved off into the shadows.

Myroslava joined Zlata by the fire. “Antin and I are going to scout the neighborhoods to the west.”

Zlata looked up from the camouflage she was repairing. “Sitting here by the campfire, it’s sometimes possible to forget for a few minutes that there’s danger in every direction.” She sighed and returned her attention to her task. “Tomorrow, I’ll get up, go to school, meet my friends, and maybe do some shopping.”

To forget the danger in every direction seemed an irrational thing to desire when one’s house had been blown up with one’s parents inside. Myroslava shrugged inwardly. “Yes. Just a few weeks ago, everyone was sleeping in safe, warm beds and arising to beautiful breakfasts with our families.”

“Oleksiy and Marynia are rested. They should shadow.”

Marynia looked up from the stack of t-shirts being cut into wipes, and Oleksiy tested the edge of the hatchet he was sharpening.

Was Marynia ready? She must be or Zlata wouldn’t have suggested it. A congestion of monstrous misconduct. Marynia and Oleksiy need practice. Something about those two statements seemed incompatible, and Myroslava had been looking forward to being on her own with Antin. Should she refuse? No. Zlata was right. The sooner everybody could fill any slot on the roster, the better. “Shall we?”

“Give me a few minutes.” Marynia tidied her work area, grabbed her water bottle, and headed to the line of backpacks, followed by Oleksiy.

While she was waiting, Myroslava consulted her cellphone and made the necessary adjustments to the extra-large flaming bag of poo (otherwise known as the duty roster) and the associated spreadsheets. Who knew that herding a tribe of kids across cow pastures required so much recordkeeping? She immediately shared the updated docs via NFC because god forbid a scout assignment should conflict with Zlata’s health and wellness spreadsheets. All hell would break loose.

Myroslava led. She made sure her feet were carefully placed. Next step. Next. Not a single twig snapped. No branches snagged her camouflage. Behind her, Oleksiy sounded like a herd of wildebeest. Oh well. After an hour of careful surveillance, the backyards of the first village were near. “You and Marynia cover our backs. Stay thirty paces parallel to us, and watch your backs, too. If anything happens to us, you know what to do: run like hell and take the scenic route.”

Oleksiy moved back down the trail and shortly after, Antin silently appeared.

She headed north. Everything was quiet. Except Oleksiy and Marynia. She sighed. Antin caught her eye and twitched his head. Dark shapes on the ground. Bodies. She should go take a few pictures. Antin followed, and she heard Oleksiy and Marynia moving closer. She cringed. Well, that was her fault. She told them to stay thirty paces.

The people were lying face down, arms bound behind. She should turn them over for the camera. She took a deep breath and steeled herself for the horrible task. Antin’s warning hiss reached her just as her hand hesitated. What had he seen? What had she seen? She looked closer. Under the shoulder of the nearest body, there was a piece, an visible edge of … Booby trap. She backed away and retreated in a hurry, careful to follow her exact trail. After recovering the safety of the wood border, she waited. Nothing. Everything was quiet and still, but she would assume that the entire row of houses should be avoided.

She passed the lead to Antin and cut back to Oleksiy and Marynia.

“What is it?” Marynia hissed from the shadows.

“Booby-trapped bodies.” She told them what she had seen. “Zwastikas are well known for it. Scouting and foraging just became extra deadly, so be extra careful. Silence is important, so no unnecessary movement. Quietly close the gap if you can’t see us, otherwise stay put. We’re going to skip the rest of this neighborhood.” Myroslava returned to the front and waited at the base of the tree while Antin finished surveying.

After traversing the small wood separating the two neighborhoods, he passed the next deserted, shattered houses. They appeared to have been thoroughly and recently ransacked. The yards were full of footprints and litter.

Antin stopped and crouched behind some bushes overlooking a backyard. This house seemed intact. It was dark, seemingly abandoned. He remained hunkered down.

They should be moving on, leaving it to the foragers. What had he seen? Heard? Why was this house intact?

Bangs. Slams. Lights flickered. Flashlights. The back door burst open.

Antin disappeared.

Myroslava flattened to the ground and shimmied into the snow, pushing some in front to make a snowbank. God, she hated snow, but it did come in handy sometimes. She pulled her hood lower and peeked over the edge.

Zwastikas. Five, ten, twenty, shoving two men and a woman with bound arms to the ground. One broke the old man’s nose with the butt of a rifle. Another backhanded the woman across the face.

Myroslava’s finger itched for the trigger.

The orcs beat them while asking over and over, where is the money? Jewelry? The gold and silver? Where is the safe? One began stripping the woman’s trousers. She fought back, kicking, screaming, and cursing. The orc forced her face down into the snow.

Oh, how she wanted to shoot that vermin. She felt Antin warning her. Myroslava took a slow, deep breath. Don’t do it, don’t forget, don’t do it, don’t forget. Maksym had warned them again and again that they were likely to witness horrible, terrible, devastating crimes. Their duty and responsibility was to stay alive and gather whatever they could to keep the other children alive. Don’t forget. If the older kids were killed or captured, the little ones would never make it. Never. They would die, be trafficked into some oligarch’s yacht or palatial compound and sold onward after being thoroughly violated, or they would be appropriated by the butchers with unending public gratitude required for the slaughter of their families, people, and country. Don’t forget, don’t forget.

The two men insisted that they didn’t have anything, didn’t know anything. One was sobbing. A zwastika shot the other in the head. The weeping man screamed, “Dad! Daddy!”

The orc who raped the woman put a gun to her head. She didn’t say a word, but with her eyes she forbade the man to speak. Even at this distance, Myroslava could see it, feel it. The woman would rather die a brutal death than help the filthy criminals in any way. And she did. The orc shot her in the stomach. The man screamed in agony, again. After she suffered for a while, the orc shot her in the head. The man was silent, dead while alive. The orc shot him. The vicious scum lounged around the slaughter, talking. They went back in the house. There were sounds of destruction. Eventually, silence spread. It was shattered by the roar of an engine.

She stayed still, tears running down her face, and focused on controlling her breathing. Maksym was absolutely right. Antin shouldn’t be here. Viktoriya. Myroslava only now understood the very pointed omission. How could she be so stupid? If both she and Antin were taken out because they were partners on the same mission, what would happen to Viktoriya? It would be beyond a catastrophe. A vile disrespect of Mom’s and Grandma’s sacrifice.

Antin climbed a tree to the very top, spreading his weight over multiple branches with the climbing gear. A few twigs fell. The sound of the motor faded away. After a long time, he descended and leaned against the trunk for a minute.

Scooting out from her snowy nest, she looked where he was pointing. In the back corner of the yard there was a high chicken-wire fence with a locked chain on the gate surrounding a coop. There weren’t any chickens. There hadn’t been any recently. No prints of any kind. No need for a chain on the gate. That must be what had caught his attention before the orcs showed themselves.

He moved silently within the edge of the wood and took out a multi tool. Snip. Silence. Snip. Silence. Snip, snip. Silence. Silence. The door was locked, but it was a simple one and he had it open in a few seconds.

Containers of non-perishable food, a delicious hoard. A rifle. Ammo. First aid. Sub-zero sleeping bags. Tarps. Survival tools. Myroslava called and then winced when she heard Marynia and Oleksiy trampling through the brush like a marching band. Sheesh. She turned to the bodies and whispered, “You were so, so brave. I won’t forget. I’ll make sure everyone knows.” She leaned against the coop, blending in.

“We need to go.” Antin leaned next to her.

He didn’t need to say anything more. Neither of them were … Her heart pounded. Blood swished in her ears. The remorse and guilt for not trying to save the people and for endangering Viktoriya were overwhelming. She shoved herself upright, wiped her eyes, and faced Oleksiy and Marynia. They were peeking from behind the trees beyond the fence. Marynia looked sick. Oleksiy was stone-faced and silent. Neither one was watching the rear. Or anywhere else. Argh. All four of the scouts were a freaking mess. Get a grip. Now.

“That was bad, really, really …” Marynia clapped her hand to her mouth and doubled over. After a few heaves, she straightened, grabbed some snow and scrubbed her pale, clammy face. “God, I hate them. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them.”

“It was unspeakable. There are no words evil enough. I’m so sorry you had to see that, Marynia, so sorry.” Myroslava took another deep breath and tried not to look at the bodies.

Marynia wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I didn’t, I couldn’t. I had to stand behind a tree. Hearing was bad enough. If I had been watching, I don’t think I could have stopped myself from shooting. Maybe I’m not ready to shadow yet.”

“We’ll talk more later. There’s a ton of premium gear here, almost everything on the wish list. We’re going to make stashes as far away as possible. We can’t retrieve it all ourselves. Marynia, on this side. We’ll pass the stuff to you, Oleksiy. Put it in that bush for now.” She pointed to a tangle of branches well within the wood.

He glanced over his shoulder at the spot before frowning at her. “Aren’t we supposed to leave it for the foragers? Wouldn’t it be better if—”

Myroslava scowled at him. “No, the orcs took the safe tonight. They’re coming back tomorrow to collect the bodies that they know nothing about, and some are staying on because the house is in good shape and there’s more to loot. That’s why the bodies are out here, not inside. It’s too important, and there are dead people while we’re standing around with rifles, arguing about stealing their stuff. So let’s get a move on. Pretend you’re a mouse with cats, hawks, and owls near. Make sure you stack everything neatly, organized. Antin, find a tree.”

She and Marynia got busy, racing back and forth. Food first.

“I’m so sorry you had to witness that. I wish we knew their names.” Maksym rubbed his face with both hands. “One of the saddest, most horrible things about it is that they were certainly bootlickers. Everyone who isn’t is gone from around here, deported and conscripted.” He sighed. “It’s unbelievably pitiful.”

Antin said, “We’ll tell their story far and wide, when we can. The third house from the end. I recorded everything.” He closed his eyes. “I wish there was a delete key for my eyeballs.”

Myroslava took her brother’s hand, something she rarely did. She didn’t know if she could ever forgive herself. How must he feel, recording the torture and murder instead of trying to help the victims? It was filthy: a slippery, slimy pit of no possible correct action. She had much more respect for Grygoriy now, immense. She had not even come close to understanding what he had suffered or the amount of willpower he had exerted to save Marynia, himself, and everyone else. Viktoriya. Yaryna, Borysko, Lyaksandro, Brother, Mykhailo, Krystiyan, Sofiyko, Katryna, Larysa, Mykola. The sky was glowing in the east. “We made three stashes and left a false trail from the coop to the main road. What’s next?”

Maksym leaned against a tree. The dark circles under his eyes were worse than ever. “Rest while the others are getting the little ones sorted. Then we’ll retrieve the stashes and go. It’s going to be a long day.”

Antin led the way into the shelter.

Myroslava slid under the still-warm layers. No one had peed on anything last night, so the blankets hadn’t been removed yet. She didn’t know if she could sleep. Her eyes seemed to be pinned open even when they were shut.

They didn’t move fast after all. Zlata vetoed. Unless Maksym could guarantee that they could find a humanitarian corridor or there was an obvious threat looming, it was best not to sacrifice the children’s health for speed, especially not the new little brother. And there might be a hospital or clinic in range that hadn’t been bombed or looted. They had to check. After a small groan of exasperation, Maksym agreed. Short, well-scouted marches would be the rule as they passed the small villages merging into each other and crossed the next big road to the north.

There was plenty of time before she needed to guard, and chores could wait. Myroslava looked around the camp and sat down by the fire. “Can I play?”

“You always cheat.” Viktoriya frowned and held the cards out of reach.

Larysa crossed her arms over her chest.

Katryna’s lips pressed firmly together as she suppressed a lengthy, detailed diatribe upon Myroslava’s character.

Sofiyko stared down at her folded hands, her good manners obviously at war with her repugnance at being in the company of such an awful sinner.

Myroslava smiled sweetly. “I promise not to cheat.”

Viktoriya slumped and rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “You say that every time!”

“How about if I teach you all how to cheat?” Myroslava raised an eyebrow.

The little girls looked at each other. They smiled.

“All right.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Don’t teach the boys, though.”

“Do you know any magic tricks?”

“I most certainly do.” She shuffled the deck and fanned it out. “Pick a card.”

In the wee hours of the next day, she fisted her hands on her hips and stared at the disgraced scouts standing by the fire. “You got in a fight. With each other.”

Antin pointed a condemnatory finger at Oleksiy. “It was all his fault, the big lunk. He’s such a bully. I just had to teach him a lesson.” His left eye was swelling up nicely.

Oleksiy thrust an accusatory finger at Antin. “Don’t listen to that little squirt. I was minding my own business when he attacked me out of the blue.” He alternated a wadded handkerchief between his bruised right eye and swollen, bleeding nose.

“Right.” Myroslava gazed heavenward for a few moments. “And when did the rifles spontaneously generate?” She gestured to the pile of weapons, ammo, and other gear.

“Oh! Aren’t they lovely?” Her brother clasped his hands together over his chest in an ecstasy of admiration. “Well, after I was done beating up Oleksiy, we stumbled across some orcs napping by the wayside and helped ourselves.”

Maksym scratched his beard. “Fascinating.”

Myroslava tapped her fingers together thoughtfully. “Is there any possibility that the slumberous evil ones are on their way here?”

Antin and Oleksiy looked at each other.

“No.”

“Nah.”

“Great. Story hour is over. Go get some rest.” She stalked over to examine the mound of stuff.

Maksym joined her. He shrugged.

She shrugged. There was no authority. Everyone had to want to scout, to forage, to guard. She couldn’t force either of them to report. Herding cats. Sighing inwardly, she dismissed the problem of unruly felines for the moment and waited for Maksym to pull up the munitions inventory on his phone. The goodies needed to be disbursed or disposed of immediately, and they were the only ones available for the task.

“Would you mind pulling up the pack-load list? It’ll be faster if I don’t have to switch back and forth.” Maksym sat, propped his phone, and grabbed a rifle to inspect.

“No problem. Let’s get it done.” She sat and grabbed a mag. “Don’t forget we could use some spare straps. They come in handy for all sorts of things.”

Myroslava raced across and took up position under the twilight sky of early evening. Thick trees lined each side of the empty road with twenty meters or so of visibility in either direction. In a few moments, Grygoriy was by her side, and she led off to the northeast while Veronika remained behind to keep an eye on the crossing. Up ahead somewhere was another long, narrow wood leading north. Maksym wanted the scouts to find a campsite at the far end, hopefully.

Several hours into the uneventful, tedious mission, Myroslava stopped. Another owl alarmed. Maybe there was nothing to worry about, the owls were probably complaining about each other, but she would be cautious. She notified Grygoriy and silently sidestepped to a climbable tree. It wasn’t great but it would do. She managed to get higher than most people looked. There was more than enough light tonight; patches of snow glowed under the thin cloud layer backlit by a bright moon. She scanned with the binocular.

The only unusual sound in the wood was the occasional soft crunch of a footstep as her partner walked slowly onward, moon shadow to moon shadow. He would gain about thirty paces and then wait for her to find another tree instead of swapping off because getting him up a tree was about as stealthy as a charging rhinoceros.

“Stop. Drop it. Get your hands up.”

Grygoriy froze.

Shit. She screwed up. She should’ve retreated. Sorry owls, you tried to tell me. Where was the voice? Nothing visible. She pointed the rifle in the general direction.

“I said drop it. We know exactly where your friend is and really dislike having that rifle pointed at us.”

Fuck. More than one. Maybe. The speech was Ukrainian. She pulled the rifle back and made herself small behind the trunk of the tree. Grygoriy would have to trust her. Cheee-tik.

He dropped the rifle and put his hands up.

The voice said, “Who are you, what are you doing here, and where are you going?”

“My name is Grygoriy, I’m looking for a place to camp, and I’m going to Zaporizhzhia. If you don’t shoot me, that is.”

“You and your friend are traveling light for camping.”

“We’re scouts.”

“You’re going to have to say more or we’re going to take you. Come closer. Closer. Halt. How old are you?”

He stopped in the small clearing and cleared his throat. “Seventeen. A group of us are avoiding towns and villages on our way out. There’s been a lot of deportations, conscription, and other stuff.” Grygoriy had a surprising amount of facial hair, much more than Oleksiy. He could pass for seventeen.

“How many in your group?”

“Eight.”

Myroslava supposed eight could be considered around nineteen.

Owls protested. Oh Crap. Don’t panic. Myroslava raised the binoc.

“Where—”

She interrupted. “Someone’s following you. Who’s coming? Are there more of you here?”

“What?”

“The owls. They’re close.”

A second voice said, “Well, shit. So they are. Spread out. Crossing over.” A dark shape crouched across Myroslava’s line of fire.

Grygoriy darted back to his rifle and hit the ground.

Movement. Silence. Silence. Silence. Snatches of motion, barely visible through the obscuring trunks and branches. They were coming fast. Making noise. Talking, even. An occasional flickering flash of light. White bands. They were spreading out. Good. Twenty, maybe. Where were the leaders? There. She dropped the binoc and looked through the scope of the rifle. Closer. Closer. Gunfire erupted. She shot at three before they could take cover.

Boom.

The grenade hadn’t gotten very far. Her eye was dazzled for a moment and she was grateful. Thank you, trees. It looked like Klutz had taken himself out of the fight along with a few buddies, and by the sound of the cursing, even more were injured. Now some clod shot a—it took down a sizable branch and was ricocheting around—Bang.

What the hell. Myroslava wished she was recording this shit. She had closed her eyes and hidden her face behind the trunk, so she wasn’t flash-blinded this time. More cursing across the way. Now a smoke grenade to try to cover the flare misfire, but in windy Ukraine, those require a little forethought; gray fog was busily whisking past everything in the wrong direction.

The Ukrainian soldiers were in new spots and obviously enjoying the illuminated enemy position. The targeted, double-tap explosions of their powerful rifles blended in with the nonstop rat-a-tat-tat of the orcs. She picked targets, shot three times, flew down the tree, and gave a hard yank on the retrieval rope. As she scrambled into the shadows, the poor tree received a noisy barrage, and a few splinters of wood landed nearby. Answering fire from the Ukrainian soldiers in yet new locations. A new smoke grenade, this time in the correct direction.

Silence. She peered through the branches of the bush. Nothing moving. Nothing. Nothing. Flare dying down.

A whisper came out of the dark. “All right, friends. A couple of them got away. We have to leave and so do you, don’t want to see you again soon. Crossing now. Good luck.” A shadow slid by, tree to tree.

Crack.

Myroslava shot twice at the distant, fuzzy muzzle flash and rolled to a new position, closer to her tree.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” After a few minutes, she called quietly and received an answer. She exhaled in relief, finished retrieving the climbing gear, and scrabbled over to Grygoriy. “All right?”

He whispered, “I’m good. Can’t see crap from this low spot. Shot a bunch of trees and bushes. Made everyone nervous. You?”

She laughed softly. It had an edge. She wished Antin were here. “That scared the hell out of me, snipers in the wood. I guess we didn’t look like orcs. We’d better get going.”

“Is that what they were, snipers? I wondered what scouts were doing all the way out here.”

“Special ops of some sort. I wish we had had time to talk to them, dammit, but we just ruined their day as well as ours. Shucks. I’ll leave no trace. You cover. Stay low.” Myroslava crawled back, covering the trail. It was a sloppy job, but it would have to do. When she thought she was far enough away, she crouched and made better progress. After an hour, she decided that supreme caution was no longer needed. She raced through the wood followed by Grygoriy, but it still seemed like days before she met up with Veronika at the rendezvous.

“You’re early. What happened?” Veronika gracefully climbed down from her perch and shook out her arms and legs.

“Let’s save it for camp. We would’ve been even earlier, but we had to clear the trail. Help me while Grygoriy covers.” She quickly finished the clean up, adjusted her camouflage, and dashed across the road.

“It’s my turn to leave-no-trace. You’ve done enough.” Grygoriy’s voice was a ghostly whisper from a pool of darkness.

She hesitated. He was right. It was hard work and she was tiring. After another hour of painstaking, silent retreat while she covered the others and scouted the trail ahead, she passed the guards and entered camp. Maksym was waiting. She reported.

Veronika was shocked. “You shot the zwastikas?”

Why did she carry a rifle? Because it matched her outfit? She’d screwed up again; she shouldn’t have mentioned it in front of Veronika. Myroslava took a deep breath. “I shot illegally imported gear which just happened to be on the bodies of trespassers. It wasn’t nearly as difficult as not pulling the trigger when the evil shits tortured people right in front of me. If I didn’t, the probability of them running right up your butt was very high. It was also likely that after killing you, if you were lucky, they would continue on and wind up here with my little sister. Someone was going to have to shoot them, and it will look like it was the snipers.” She rubbed her forehead and sighed. “I don’t think we need to run all day right this second. However, we definitely need a new route.”

Maksym scrubbed his face with his hands. “There was only one unit?”

“As far as I could tell. The owls seemed to agree.”

“Good.” He studied the fire for a moment. “We’re going to have to move a little more west, closer to the road and towns. Not what we want, but it has just become a much safer route for a few days.” He sighed and rose. “I’d better report to Zlata first, get her feedback, then I’m going to scout, so you’ve got a little time to rest. Who else?”

Myroslava thought for a moment. “Veronika or Zlata are the only ones who can keep up with you right now. The rest of us are done for the day.”

Veronika raised her hand. “I was sitting around in a tree. I’m good for another shift.”

Maksym nodded acceptance. “Myroslava, I’m sorry, really sorry, that it was you in that tree, and glad that it was you in that tree. Thanks. See you later.”

She acknowledged with a wave as she left to find Antin’s lookout. It didn’t take long to spot the best one in the area. She fastened her harness and scrambled up the rope. “Do you mind if I grab a nap?”

“No, help yourself. Are you still going to be a biological engineer?”

“You’re a bit strange sometimes.” Myroslava double-checked her gear and the hammock, shimmied into the sleeping bag, and fastened the straps. “You think I should pursue a new career? Mafia? Mercenary? Assassin? My priorities have changed. I don’t think I might have a family if I get around to it. If I meet the right person, I think I’ll get started right away. I might get started right away even if I don’t meet the right person. Everything else will have to take its time. What about you?”

“I’m constantly being rearranged, like a jigsaw puzzle with multiple solutions. I don’t know.” He shrugged and resumed scanning with the binocular.

“That’s a good way to put it.”

Antin sighed dolefully. “I’ll probably wind up being a professional student. Stuck high up in a safe ivory tower somewhere, theorizing my life away.”

She snorted. “You? The one who sleeps in trees given any opportunity? I don’t see it, but I suppose anything is possible.”

“There are just so many outstanding examples of bravery, all around, every day. You and Grygoriy. The snipers. Those people, the men and the woman. If someone were torturing you or Viktoriya, I couldn’t stand it. I would cave.”

“They knew they were all going to die no matter what they did, and then there was the added motivation that they were betrayed by their own side. For money. For stuff. Die for something or die for nothing? I tell myself that, but I don’t know if I could do it either.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“So, do I really want a nice, safe life on the manicured campuses of my brain? Where the sum total of my lifelong bravery will be the number of times I dared to openly contradict other nerds, ski that expert slope, climb that cliff, or raft that whitewater?”

“Are you thinking that you should be a superhero after all? Don that squeaky, rabid, black cape? Shoot arachnid byproducts from your palms?”

“I was thinking about that mercenary mess, the Pervner group that oozes out of the sewer by the rusty curtain whenever there’s anything excessively heinous to be accomplished that the rabble of undesirables from no-account states aren’t good for. I should do something about them, someday.” Antin looked down at her for a moment and then resumed scanning with the binocular.

Myroslava hadn’t expected that. “Yes, you’d be really good at that. I don’t like it, though. Slippery slopes, and an anti-mercenary private military company is just awkward. Plus, you know how cockroaches are, squish one and a hundred more crawl out of the cesspool. I’ll have to think about it. Do you think that’s who the torturers were, mercenaries?”

“I think there’s room for a PMC with a precise, expert focus, and good point about the cockroaches. Business will be booming.” He looked thoughtful. “It’s the sort of thing Pervners do, but I doubt it. They’re most useful as cannon-fodder so it’s unlikely they’re out here in the boonies destroying all the terribly threatening libraries, kindergartens, and pet shops. The zwastikas here are just the usual half-trained, poorly equipped, uneducated goons and the pitiful conscripts who weren’t smart enough or wealthy enough to duck out. What was it like?”

“We’ve talked about it plenty of times.”

“The reality, not the probability.”

“Dark. Plenty of trees and branches to run into. I’m going to have some champion bruises tomorrow.”

“Nice metaphors.”

She groaned. “Oh, all right. I may as well get some practice in because Veronika’s projecting again. It’s super annoying that she doesn’t do it to you. It’s because I’m a girl.” She closed her eyes and thought back. “I don’t know that any shots reached a target. I was aiming fast. But probably at least one did. I don’t really know what it was like. I’m on automatic still, survival mode. My head feels strange, like my brain shrunk and there’s an echoing space between it and my skull. Thoughts ping off and ricochet around.” She picked one at random. “I would’ve been fine shooting those bastards who killed those poor people. So why is there a problem with proactive self-defense? The orcs could’ve blown me out of that tree any second. Would I feel better about it if they raped me first, shot me in the gut, and then I killed them?”

“I’ll start a social media campaign for your therapy.”

“You’re an asshole.” She rolled her eyes.

“I know. From what I overheard, you had very few options and very little time. Just my opinion, but I think you chose the one that maximized your chances of survival and therefore Viktoriya’s. Whether or not you should survive is one of those unanswerable questions. But since you’re alive and anything alive typically has no interest in dying, I’ll allow that your survival is a legitimate goal based on the general consensus of life on Earth. Also, you’re assuming that you wouldn’t have suffered similar repercussions if you had shot the torturers. I think that’s incorrect. Lastly, which is actually firstly, there was no possibility of you leaving those snipers unsupervised with such an important task on their hands, so you may as well help them out a bit. You’re sure they won’t come here?”

Myroslava laughed and then frowned with mock impatience. “Do I look like I have a crystal ball? Not that unit, they need a new head for the snake. Either way, they’ll most likely follow the trail east and never notice that some footprints are missing.”

“There was no way to wait and see?”

“Wrong team for that. Even with the right one, I wouldn’t have. Better just to plan for all outcomes. What do you think?”

“I would’ve been tempted to stay behind and do some eavesdropping. But I’m glad you didn’t. No guarantee that the next bunch will be as incompetent.”

“If there is a next bunch.”

“Can’t leave the gear lying around if there’s any way to recover it and they know where it is.”

“True. Speaking of incompetence, what really happened with you and Oleksiy? I noticed you’re doing one-on-one training.”

Antin laughed. “It really was the most absurd thing. He’s very lucky to be alive, but we promised not to tell. Bottom line, I told him he can’t shadow unless I say so, especially not as a scout pair. I was hoping to be done before it became a conflict, but he needs a few more sessions yet.”

“What the hell! You should’ve told me right away.” She sighed with noisy exasperation.

“I disagree. You’re just being nosy. To help dampen your curiosity, I’ll mention that darling mommy’s boy is forever resting unpeacefully on the bosom of Beelzebub.” Antin spoke with supreme unconcern.

“Ooh. Ahh.” Myroslava tamped down her irritation about being kept in the dark when the matter affected the roster. “I will take that hint and never mention napping orcs again, especially around Maksym. Plus, now I’m too busy planning annual parties to commemorate the blessed event. Masquerades, I think.” Antin wouldn’t keep silent if there was a serious problem. “Let me know when he’s ready.” She breathed in deeply, closed her eyes, and focused on relaxing. Images flashed by as if played by a projector on the back of her eyelids. Filthy, black smoke poured from the small, shattered, ground-level window. Oblivious to the razor-sharp shards of glass, hands slick with bright red blood shoved a boy through the opening. A shift of smoke revealed huge brown eyes full of anguished terror, love and longing. The hands let go and the face vanished back into the choking darkness. A woman and an older man, proud, determined not to flinch before their enemies, to never give in. The younger man, overwhelmed with grief and pain, but still fulfilling the wishes of his beloved ones because it was the last gift he could give them, the ultimate declaration of love and loyalty. Mom and Grandma, bright, cheerful, and practical, as if they were sending the children off to another day at school. Myroslava knew that the moment the door had closed behind her for the final time, they had given way to their fear and sorrow, if only for a little while. But what she remembered, what she saw, was their kind, smiling faces; the last hugs and whispered endearments.

“What are you thinking?”

“Mom and Grandma. I see them. Did we do the right thing?”

“We’ll never know for sure because we can’t go back and do something else. But I’d say yes. Mom and Grandma were right, and it was a close call.” He sighed. “Viktoriya’s alive. She’s free. That’s enough for me right now.”

“Me, too, I guess. I just wish that we could talk to them. If only we had—Argh! There I go again.” Myroslava blew kisses to Mom and Grandma. To Melie. To the woman and the two men. I love you. Antin was near. Viktoriya was near. That’s enough for now.

Only one short trip! Only because the village was full of Ukrainians who hadn’t been deported yet! Only if she shadowed Antin! He was good, but it wasn’t what she wanted. Still, it was better than nothing, better than sitting around camp. It was exciting and important, much more important than sewing, washing dishes, or wiping little noses. She had asked to scout every day and finally Maksym said yes. She had been so happy at first. But no. She wasn’t good enough! Just a tag-a-long shadower!

Larysa wrinkled her nose at the insult and followed Antin, step by step, trying to see what he saw, smelled, felt, and heard. She grudgingly admitted that he was very, very good. Maybe better than Maksym. He was … graceful, like a dancer, making unexpected moves. She had to think about how to do them before she could follow. Sometimes she messed up and left extra tracks. That was a no-no because it made more work for leave-no-trace. He stopped. Voices. Noises. Getting louder. Antin was almost invisible against the tree trunk. Maksym’s birdsong sounded softly from nearby. She saw him out of the corner of her eye, creeping closer through the branches of a thicket, and peeked out from behind her tree. Small buses and transports were pulling up in the street. People were going from houses into the street carrying bags and suitcases.

“An evacuation?” Antin whispered, “Did you hear anything on the news?”

Maksym listened every day on the little, hand-cranked radio. It could get stations from far away. The news was always bad. Larysa listened to music sometimes, but not often because the radio was too important. It didn’t tell everyone where you were like cellphones did. It had to be kept safe.

“No, there are no humanitarian corridors. A deportation.” Maksym didn’t whisper, but his voice was very low, a rumble. “The shitheads think if they say evacuation loud enough and often enough, no one will notice the machine guns and tanks pointed at the people.”

“We should check it out, see what they’re saying about the neighborhood.” Antin sounded like he was saying they should take a walk in the park.

“I’m really unhappy about Larysa being here.” Maksym sounded mad. “I fucked up. Shit. I made promises to Dad, too. Get Veronika and Grygoriy. You and Veronika will check it out.”

Backtracking to the rendezvous didn’t take long, even though her partner didn’t follow the same path. Instead, he did a quick scout of the near area, changing direction often. Larysa was impressed again. Antin was really good. He moved fast and left almost no visible footprints in the open. Anyone trying to track him would have to go really slow or lose the trail. He called softly and Veronika and Grygoriy showed up in a few minutes.

Antin told them what he had seen and what Maksym said. “He wants it checked by the tweenies.” He smiled.

“Another deportation? Assholes.” Veronika’s dark eyes were almost black when she frowned. She swiped a thick, brown lock of hair from her face. She had really pretty hair and always had stylish haircuts, but now it was growing out. She took a deep breath and exhaled noisily, like a horse. “Let’s go.”

Antin grinned. “When you calm down a bit, Bucephalus. Chill.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, took another deep breath, stretched, and shook out her arms and shoulders. “All right, that’s as good as it gets today.” Veronika gestured for him to lead.

Kuk-kooooo-kuk.

Birdsong echoed from the left, and she found Maksym lying under a thick hedgerow on a little mound. He was focused on the orcs.

“I don’t like this.” He looked over his shoulder at Antin.

Larysa crouched down and crawled into the bushes.

Antin said, “What is it?”

“I’m not sure, and I’m really uncomfortable about letting you go in there.”

“We’ll be extra careful.” Veronika took a deep breath. She looked at Antin. “Let’s get ready.”

Antin handed his weapon and camouflage to Grygoriy and then looked through his binocular one more time before passing it over.

Maksym lowered the glasses again. “Larysa, my sunshine, I’m sorry. I’m an unforgivable dolt for letting you come. Please do everything you’re told immediately. Please. Quiet now.” He handed her the binocular and got out his scope.

It wasn’t like him to say cute names. Maybe it was. She was confused.

While Veronika was taking her camouflage off, she said, “Usual story, cousins, both eleven, evacuated Mariupol to relatives in the country, got separated when the town was bombed, can’t find them, been traveling by the fields, keeping off the roads, looking for food. Both clueless, don’t know what’s going on or whose side we’re on, just want some french fries and a soda.” She handed over her spare pistol to Maksym, checked the other one, and put it back under the big coat. After looking Antin over, she added more dirt to both of their faces, elbows, knees, and bottoms. Lastly, she took off her hat and messed up her hair. “All right. We’re ready.”

Grygoriy took the rest of the gear and headed back to the rendezvous.

Maksym pointed north. “If you follow the third fence, the red one, that’ll take you to the street unseen. You were sheltering in that shed, no one’s checked it yet, make sure to leave some footprints in there. Hide your backpacks there so you have an excuse to go back. Your cellphones, documents, money, daddy’s debit card, and other tempting valuables are in there. Don’t let anyone get between you and the retreat.”

“Got it.” Antin pulled up his gaiter and turned away.

Veronika took a deep breath, stretched out her shoulders one last time, and followed.

Larysa bit her tongue. She bit her lower lip. She bit her tongue. She bit her upper lip. It wasn’t exciting. Veronika. She had known her all her life. She was like a big sister. She’s going to where the guns and orcs are. Larysa hadn’t known before that the scouts did that. She wished she didn’t know. She couldn’t help Veronika. Yes, she could. She could do her job. Her hands were shaking so she propped the binocular on a branch and focused on the shed by the red, wooden fence, whispering what she saw to Maksym. The door opened and shut. Opened and shut again. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Maksym aim the rifle at the zwastikas.

Through the slats of the fence, Larysa caught glimpses of Antin and Veronika. They were almost to the street. She could barely see them anymore from where she was, but Maksym was watching them. She looked at the farthest backyard and began scanning, looking for anything that didn’t seem right: yard by yard, the houses, the brush, and the front as far as she could see. Then start again.

Movement by the red fence. Larysa saw flashes of Antin and Veronika holding hands and laughing. They were happy. A crow cawed. Danger. They opened the door to the shed and stepped in.

Larysa gasped. “Orc watching, by the—heading toward the shed.”

Maksym dropped the rifle, snatched up the wrist rocket, and shot the glass out of a window in the nearer house. He grabbed the rifle and aimed. The orc ran to the fence, and the barrel of a gun poked through the slats. Birdsong. In the blink of an eye, Veronika and Antin slid around the far side of the shed and disappeared. The orc yelled. The barrel vanished. Another came in the yard. First orc stomped around and made a lot of noise in the bushes for a minute. The other called him back.

A noisy crow again. Rendezvous with Grygoriy. She scooted backward from under the brush and waited, crouching behind a tree. Maksym came and motioned for her to lead while he walked backwards. They had practiced walking back-to-back many times. It was ancient. The Romans used it when they got themselves in a pickle and had to retreat. But there was no one to do the flanks, so she had to remember. Step. Look left. Step. Look right. Steady, keep the rhythm.

The others were already there. Larysa was dizzy with relief. She took a deep breath and, with shaking hands, helped Veronika get her camouflage back on.

“Same old, same old, almost. They were delighted that we’re orphans. There’s a special bus for that. There’s too many of them to be just from here. There must have been an orphanage.” Veronika bit her upper lip and shook her head. “They’re not letting any men on the buses with their families. They have separate buses. That’s different from the last time. They’re going south and then east. The orcs were cagey about what’s going to happen here and where they’re going next. Not as chatty as the last bunch. They seem more, um, business-like.”

“Scared orphans and mommies with children whose noble men volunteered to be cannon-fodder are great plunder. It’s embarrassing Putler that millions evacuated west and five willingly evacuated east. Who would? Two cold-war fossils and three racist, rabid, bat-brain rashists, and they didn’t really want to, either, they had to be bribed.” Maksym gave her back the spare pistol. “I think these orcs might be more serious about tracking you down, so it’s time to go.” He gestured for Veronika to lead.

Grygoriy’s binocular was glued to his face. He leaned from side to side, trying to see better. “Wait. Antin, you should get up a tree and record. Now, fast.”

Antin glanced at Maksym and was up to the top of a nearby tree almost before Grygoriy was done speaking.

Larysa wanted to learn so bad. Antin had told her that she would have to know trees better first, especially whether or not a tree was healthy. Then it was just practice and the right gear.

Maksym motioned her to stay put, and he and Veronika left to guard the area.

Larysa looked through her binocular. They were on the far side of the wood now, too many branches were in the way, but she couldn’t budge unless there was an emergency. Maksym would never, ever let her scout again if she did. She stayed still, up against the tree, listening hard, counting the seconds. Minutes. Four … Five …

Pow-pow. Pow-pow.

She dropped to the ground and rolled under a bush.

Screaming. Shots.

She covered her ears. 

Shots. Screaming. Shots.

Screaming. Screaming.

Children screaming.

Antin was suddenly there. He bent over with his hands on his knees and took deep breaths, over and over. Straightening, he yanked his climbing rope down, slung his backpack, and knelt by Larysa, taking her hands. “We have to go.” He tried to help her stand.

She was frozen. Nothing worked right.

“Larysa, we need to get out of here. Help me, put your arm over my shoulder. Grygoriy, I need help.” Antin tried to call. He cleared his throat and tried again. Who-WHO-Who. Help.

She forced herself to move, holding on to the outstretched hands. Everything swirled around and she grabbed onto a tree. Someone put an arm around her and pulled her away. Where was Maksym? Everything was blurry and shiny. There was too much light. She couldn’t see.

“Can you carry her?”

“Think so, give me a sec.”

 The words were drawn out. Echoing. They didn’t make any sense. Someone lifted her. She kicked and broke away. She ran. Away. She had to get away. Someone grabbed her. A hand covered her mouth. She fought.

“Larysa, Larysa, don’t scream, please don’t scream. I’ve got you, you’re safe, you’ll be all right. Don’t scream, please. Look at me, Larysa. Look at me.”

Words in her ear. Maksym. It was Maksym. His voice. She looked. He was strange, glowing. She shook her head. Things whirled around. No screaming. She wouldn’t scream. She couldn’t. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t stop shaking. The screams in her ears. Children. A lot. Screaming … screaming …

Veronika leaned against a tree with her hands over her face. She slid down to the ground.

“We have to go. We have to go now. They’re coming. More are coming. Transports. Tanks.” Antin grabbed Veronika’s hands and pulled her up. They staggered, holding onto each other.

She didn’t want to know. She had to know. She whispered, “Did they … kill the … children?”

“No. Not their bodies, anyway.” Antin looked sick. “They killed the men, the big brothers, fathers, and grandfathers. We’d heard that conscription at gunpoint was happening because they’re not having much luck getting anyone to join up at the detention centers. But we never witnessed one before. There was an argument and a fight. One of them grabbed an orc’s rifle. Some of the men tried to break away. The bus with the children was still there. They saw everything. No one will ever see those children again. Because they never saw that, never existed, erased.” He caught Veronika when she stumbled.

Maksym said, “That’s not true. Thanks to you and Grygoriy, everyone will see those children again. They exist and they saw that. We’ll make sure of it.”

Larysa held on tight. Her eyes were wide open.

“She’s in shock. Worse than last time. Or the time before. Or the time before that.”

“Give me all the evil looks you want and say everything bad you can think of. I deserve it. I should’ve listened to you. Will she be all right?”

“As all right as any of us will ever be. Put her down here.”

“No. I can’t. You’ll have to chop my arms off.”

“Oh, Maksym. Will this ever be over?” Zlata sounded far away. “Then you have to lie down, too. She needs to rest and be kept warm. Don’t take off her boots or anything else.”

It felt better to lie down. She heard screams again, ringing in her ears. “The children are screaming.” Larysa opened her eyes. It was really bright, more than the beach in summer. The colors were pointy. They hurt. Now it was getting dark. There were black polka-dots. Everything was dark except a narrow hole. She closed her eyes.

“Larysa, please forgive me. I made a terrible mistake.”

She felt Maksym’s arms around her. She couldn’t move. Nothing worked right. She could hear. She could talk if she tried hard. “I broke … my promise. To Mom. I promised. Not to pester. To help.” Her eyes stung. She felt tears on her cheeks. “That’s why you broke yours. Because I broke mine. How do I say I’m sorry?”

“Just say it. I’ll go first. I’m sorry, Mom. I messed up really, really bad. I’ll do better.”

“Mommy, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I miss you. I miss you, Daddy.”

Someone was pushing her eyelid back. Zlata’s face appeared in the narrow hole, far away. The little circle got bigger. Things shone. They looked weird. As if they weren’t really there.

Zlata whispered, “How are you doing?”

“I’m better. I’m tired.”

“Are you warm enough?”

“Yes.”

Maksym’s arms were wrapped around her. It was uncomfortable, but warm. She looked to her right. Little Brother was curled up beside her. Lyaksandro was next to him. She looked back at her big brother. He looked so much older now, even when he was asleep.

“Drink a little water.” Zlata held her shoulders so she could reach the cup.

The warm, spiced water tasted so good. Larysa gulped it.

“Slow down, you’ll get hiccups.”

Maksym’s arms tightened. He woke up. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Better.”

“Here’s some water for you, too.” Zlata reached behind and another cup appeared.

Maksym propped himself up on one elbow and drank. “Mmm, that’s good. Thanks.”

Zlata smoothed Larysa’s hair and put the warm hat back on her head. “You have such beautiful hair. It’s like midnight silk. Both of you go back to sleep. You, too, Lyaksandro. I know you’re awake. Everything’s under control. Myroslava will report in a few hours.”

Larysa closed her eyes. She was really tired.

Birdsong. A break. Larysa stumbled as she sat down. Sofiyko and Katryna sat next to her. She plonked her head on her fist. It was strange being so tired all the time. Maksym said he or Oleksiy would carry her or they would make a stretcher, but she didn’t want to be a problem. She wished they could camp right now, but the orcs did try to track Antin and Veronika. They were looking for them. There were problems in the town to the west, too, so Maksym said they had to go, tonight. The scouts had found a great spot to camp. There was a little square of trees surrounded by fields. It wasn’t near anything important so no orcs wanted it. A big road was to the north, but not close. But the new campsite was far away. It was going to be a long, long night. She sighed and watched the fog of her breath float in the air. It was unusual for it to hang around like that. She liked it, liked the shapes it made. She put her head down on her knees and listened to Zlata talk to Maksym; the big girl said it was time for the kidpacks. Both Zlata and Veronika could carry really heavy loads for a long time. Veronika looked like she would fall over when her backpack was on. But she didn’t. And Zlata looked like … Larysa didn’t know what she looked like, but she didn’t look like someone who could carry so much stuff all day. The middle boys could, too: Antin, Mykola, and Krystiyan. When they had to, they could carry the other kids’ backpacks as well as their own. Mykhailo, too, but not for long. He didn’t have enough … stamina? Neither did she. Maybe it was because Zlata and Krystiyan rode bikes. They rode their bikes almost every day. They had cool bikes. Krystiyan let her ride his sometimes. Zlata’s bike was too big for her.

She sat up and watched as the little ones were lifted up. Grygoriy was already carrying Brother in a pack. The little boy was better today. He didn’t look as green and yellow and gray, and he could sit up. The blindfold and earmuffs were gone, but there were still a few bandages where he had blisters. He seemed confused. But he wasn’t unhappy. He looked around a lot. Maybe he was hearing sounds. That would be great, if his ears were better, too.

Maksym, Marynia, and Veronika talked about the route. It sounded long. And cold. The air wasn’t still anymore. The wind was coming in little gusts now. Larysa made a face at Katryna. “It’s getting colder fast.”

Katryna wrinkled her nose and then pulled up her gaiter.

Larysa sighed and pulled hers up, too. At the order, she got up and took her place in line. She listened to the stories with half an ear. She should tell one or sing a song, take a turn, but she thought about her favorite books instead. When her thoughts drifted off to things she didn’t want to remember, she went on to the next book. The hours dragged by. There was nothing to see, nothing to do but put one foot in front of the other. She felt like a nano-bot zombie, as if her body didn’t belong to her anymore. She read a lot of zombie books. She hadn’t thought about them yet. Her favorite was—she ran into Mykola. He almost fell over. She hadn’t noticed everyone was stopped. “Sorry. I feel like a zombie.” Most of the zombie books were Mykola’s.

“Me, too. And something ate my feet.” Mykola flinched at an explosion.

“Do you need to tell Zlata?”

“Not yet.” He stamped his boots and shrugged. “It’s not as bad as that time we ran away.”

“Me, either. Boy, I got in a lot of trouble for that.”

“Me, too.”

The bombs weren’t near but not far, either. Larysa looked back. It was very dark now. Snow was coming. She pulled her gaiter up higher, to just under her eyes. More blasts. Fire lit up the low clouds. She turned to the front. Myroslava was talking with Grygoriy and Zlata. Maksym and Antin came from the back and disappeared to the front.

Zlata gestured for the children to crowd around. Borysko was on her back with a thermal blanket tied around his kidpack, and she wore another pack on her front. “Keep together, hold onto the rope at all times, and don’t try to see what’s going on. Keep in your places, follow whoever is ahead of you. Does anyone need of a ride?” She turned up her lantern and looked around. “Sofiyko, you’re shaking. I’ll get Veronika.” Zlata studied the others for a moment and then turned the lantern back to the lowest setting. “All right. You’re doing great.”

Larysa shivered. Before, it had made her mad to be kept out of things. It was better to know and be scared, like Sofiyko, than be brave not knowing because that wasn’t bravery. She didn’t think so anymore. There was a lot she didn’t want to know, never. She had heard what Myroslava said. Even little Borysko knew what a minefield was now.

It actually wasn’t that bad. It was like walking on the sidewalk next to a busy street with fast cars or staying away from the rails when a train was coming. The path was clear; all she had to do was keep on it. She didn’t even need the rope, but she held onto it because Zlata would get upset if she didn’t. In less than ten minutes, she plodded past the last invisible mines in the empty, frosty field. It seemed a strange place to put bombs. She would have to remember to ask Maksym about it.

Now it was snowing. It was pretty but it got into all the wrinkles and ridges, and then everything was cold and damp, even in the tents and shelter. The big kids turned up the lanterns. She walked a long way. And walked, and walked, and walked. She fell.

“Come on, get up. You can do it.”

Birdsong. Help.

“Oleksiy, she can’t get up, she can’t stand.” Mykola sounded scared. “Should we get Zlata?”

“I got her, I’ll take her to Zlata. But I’m pretty sure she just overdid it. Mykhailo does that sometimes, goes to sleep on his feet. Try not to worry about it. I wish she had said something earlier, poor kid. Zonked.”

The quiet voices faded away.

She woke up when Oleksiy put her down against a tree. She looked around. The lanterns lit up the snow, made it sparkle and flash. It was so pretty. People were getting camp ready. She couldn’t help. She was too tired. Katryna sat next to her and put her head on Larysa’s shoulder.

After a while, Veronika and Zlata came and helped them sit by the little fire under the evergreen tree. A cup of broth. Zlata knew so much. She knew Larysa couldn’t eat.

Her eyes shut. She forced them open and sipped. It was warm by the fire, but wet because it melted the snow. No one had put up a tarp or windbreak. Probably because everyone else was tired, too. Drips spattered on her hood. Time passed. Her head nodded. Maksym carried her to the shelter. Snow fell on her face. He kissed her forehead and then held the blanket door back. She crawled in. She tried to take her boots off. Marynia helped and checked her toes and fingers. The shelter was already warmer from the breath and bodies. The little ones had been too worn out to drink broth. She found a spot next to Sofiyko.

Slow, fat flakes drifted down. They weren’t coming sideways anymore. Maksym had said that this was probably the last big snow before Spring. Larysa closed the door of the shelter and made sure there were no leaks. No one was playing outside. Everyone was tired today, tired of the snow and the cold. All the tents were set up to make room. Some of the older kids were sleeping in the little tent. Antin was sleeping in a tree somewhere. He was very strange sometimes. Who slept in trees during freezing snowstorms if they didn’t have to?

The foragers had brought more paper and crayons. Mykhailo was making pictures full of tigers and jet planes. Borysko yawned, crawled over to where Yaryna was napping on a pile of blankets, and went to sleep. His little, fuzzy feet stuck out from under.

Brother was sitting between Krystiyan and Mykhailo, playing with the toy soldiers. He would lie down on his side or stomach to play when he got tired. His hands shook sometimes. He said, “Why do you call me Brother?”

Krystiyan said, “I don’t know your name. How old are you?”

“I’m Bilyal. I’m seven. I want to go home now.” His toy soldiers got into a fight.

“You don’t remember what happened?”

“There was an ocean in my ears. Nothing stayed still.” He rubbed the back of his head. “It hurt back here. And behind my eyes. And in my ears. And my tummy sometimes.”

“The big kids can tell you what happened. They were there. I didn’t know you spoke Ukrainian. You talk in your sleep, but not in Ukrainian. You slept for a long time, days. Today is the first time you’ve been really awake. I’m glad you’re better.” Krystiyan looked back at his soldiers. “Lieutenant wants peonies, but Major likes daffodils. Daffodils, I think.” The major-soldier moved some little pieces of yellow paper to the colorful garden on the small mound of green blanket. “That’s better.”

“How long did I sleep?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t count. I think today is Tuesday.”

Zlata ducked in, and Larysa scooted over to make more room. She got her string out of her pocket and started working through the series of patterns. She wanted to try the new one that she and Viktoriya were making up. Last time, she did something wrong and got a knot.

Krystiyan looked up at Zlata through his crooked, taped glasses. “Brother’s name is Bilyal. He’s seven. He can speak Ukrainian.”

“Hi, Bilyal. I’m Zlata. I’m glad you’re feeling better and that you can hear again.” She smiled.

Bilyal held up a toy. “This is Grandpapa. He was a soldier. Mama has lots of pictures of Grandpapa. I want to go home now.”

“I know you do. Let’s go to the tent and talk about it. Myroslava and Maksym want to talk about it, too. Larysa, can you help Bilyal over here? I’ve still got my boots on.”

She put her string away and crouched over.

Bilyal didn’t need any help crawling. He was slow and wobbly, but he made it to the opening.

Zlata backed out and then lifted him through.

Larysa sat by the door with her arms wrapped around her knees.

It was quiet.

Veronika and Marynia came into the shelter.

Bilyal screamed. “No! No! Mama! Papa! Melie! Mama, mama!”

He cried words Larysa didn’t know. She bit down on the soft skin between her thumb and fingers.

Yaryna woke up. Tears filled her eyes and her chin trembled.

Borysko sat up under the blankets. “Why? Why? No!”

Bilyal sobbed.

Yaryna wailed.

Larysa bit harder.

Marynia put Yaryna on her lap and uncovered Borysko. He hid his face and cried.

Veronika sat by the door. Mykola sat next to her, and she put her arm around him.

Larysa wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. Poor Bilyal. It’s just too hard, too mean. She wanted to go home, too. She wanted her mom. She wanted her dad. So much, so very, very much. She wanted Anichka. Sweet, little Anichka. She liked to dance. She was taking ballet classes. They used to pretend they were sisters. Larysa slid closer to Veronika and took her hand.

Bilyal’s cries were quieter and quieter. He sounded tired. And miserable. Marynia whispered a song to Borysko and Yaryna. Lyaksandro, Sofiyko, and Nadiya were with her. Katryna, Viktoriya, Mykhailo, and Krystiyan sat together in the middle. Mykhailo was drawing one of his angry pictures again, using all the black and red and yellow and orange. The others were helping. Viktoriya’s face was a mess from tears and crayon smudges. Katryna wiped it for her and fixed her hat. Krystiyan wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

Myroslava and Maksym crawled in. Viktoriya went to Myroslava’s lap and Mykhailo crawled over by Maksym to show him the new picture.

Myroslava said, “Bilyal has an uncle, Uncle Redvan. Uncle Redvan of the eagles. We think he works in one of the national parks. Bilyal was too upset to talk much. Just that he promised to be a good boy and go with Uncle Redvan of the eagles if anything bad ever happened. So if he remembers more, if he says anything more about Uncle Redvan or the eagles, let us know so we can find his uncle for him. But Zlata said not to ask him, please. He’s not well enough.”

Borysko marched over to Maksym, kicking over the box of crayons on his way. “I’m going to punch you now.”

“All right” Maksym held up his hands palm outward. “Aim better this time so you don’t fall over.”

It was less than a minute before the little one was tired out. He flopped down on the floor and swatted and kicked when Maksym tried to wipe his face.

Katryna and Krystiyan sorted the crayons. They argued in whispers about which crayon went where.

Larysa wished she had an uncle. An uncle who works with eagles is extra cool. But she wouldn’t care what her uncle did, if only she had one. She sighed and stretched out for a nap. Someone spread a blanket over her, and she pulled it over her head.

Which print is that? Does it belong to Fido or Cerberus? Don’t whack your head on the branch while looking at tracks. Don’t make the bushes thrash. Don’t upset the birds. Which was impossible because all crows in Ukraine hate Oleksiy and fly great distances to perch nearby and let him know about it. After the persnickety sessions with taskmaster Antin, it was tempting to take a nice, carefree stroll through the wood. He focused on his job instead. Don’t step on that branch.

Skirting the backyards from far enough into the wood that he wasn’t easily visible, he made note of which houses looked in the best shape, keeping careful count, adding them to the coded list in his head that would be used by the foragers, repeating the list over and over from the beginning. Scouts and foragers weren’t allowed to have any information on cellphones that might tell someone where camp was. Rounding the corner, he stopped. There were sounds ahead. He couldn’t tell what. The third yard had a high wooden fence. The gate was open. He peeked in.

An old woman was trying to push a garden cart through the snow and mud. It tipped over and the blanket-wrapped body fell out onto the ground. She knelt down and gathered it into her arms, rocking. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Oleksiy gestured to Veronika who was guarding the rear. 

She closed the gap and peered around him. “Excuse me, can I help you? You look like you might need help.” She stepped into the open but didn’t enter the yard.

The woman didn’t startle. She wasn’t afraid. “I can’t have him in the house, you know. I love him, but I can’t have dead bodies in the house.” She unfolded a bit of blanket and kissed the top of a head covered with wispy, white hair. “You can help if you want, but I’m not sure what good you’ll do, a little girl. That rifle is bigger than you are.”

“I’m pretty strong and my friend Oleksiy is, too. He didn’t want to scare you.”

He stood behind Veronika and waved.

“He is a big boy. I don’t think I can be scared anymore. Come in.”

He slung his rifle and righted the wagon. “It’s easier if I just carry him. Is that all right? Where are you going?”

“To the old chicken coop.” She pointed. “I don’t know what else to do. Even our little church was bombed. Everyone is gone. I’ll make a nice grave for him right there by the lilac. He’ll like that.” The woman looked up at Veronika with surprisingly sharp, bright eyes behind the sagging eyelids under the wrinkled brow. “I know you. You’re the gymnast girl. I saw you on TV last year.”

“Yes, that’s me. Let me help you up.”

The old woman sighed as she stood upright. She wasn’t much taller than Veronika. She straightened her purple knit hat and marched to the ancient-looking outbuilding.

It seemed odd to be grateful that he had experience moving dead bodies around backyards. Oleksiy trod slowly afterward with the awkward bundle.

“Put him here on the workbench.”

He gently lowered the man, making sure his face was covered.

“We were married sixty years. We were always happy.” The woman patted the corpse. “Such a good man, such a good husband. Why did those monsters have to beat him, kill him? He was already dying. Vicious, rabid beasts. We didn’t think those varmints could be any worse than they were before. We were wrong.” She wiped a tear with her scarf. She looked at Veronika who was standing just outside the door, keeping watch. “Where are you going? Would you like to stay, have a cup of tea?”

“That would be wonderful, but we have to rejoin our friends. We’re out looking for food. If we’re late, they’ll worry. I’m so sorry about your husband, so very sorry. Is there anything more we can do before we go?”

“Yes, there is. Who are your friends?”

Oleksiy said, “A group of kids, mostly orphans, trying not to be adopted by orcs. We’re from around Berdyansk and Mariupol, and others have joined along the way. Don’t tell anyone, please.”

The old woman glared up at him. “Of course not, silly boy! Follow me!”

After recovering from his alarm, he obediently trotted to the partially demolished house while shooting reproachful glances at Veronika’s smirks.

“I have some food I want to give you. The murdering scum didn’t realize that the basement they were searching wasn’t the whole thing. This is an old place, added onto again and again.” Next to the back of the house was a pile of snowy straw. The pint-sized martinet grabbed a pitchfork, cleared off a cellar door, and descended into the gloom.

Oleksiy heard the snick of a match being lit; the kerosene lamp shone a warm glow on the bins of root vegetables. Herbs hung in bunches beside braids of onions. There were even some apples, neatly arranged on a shelf. His mouth watered. “Won’t you need this?”

“No.” She stalked over to a big freezer and threw open the door. It was full of bowls heaped with snow and packages of food. Corn. Peas. Broccoli. A ham. “We had a big harvest last year from our kitchen gardens. We were so proud. We love our gardens. There was always more than we needed and now we need even less. And the last thing I want is for those nasty jackals to come back and get their hands on it. Makes me sick just thinking about it! Plus, the frozen food isn’t going to last long now that the power’s off for good; days are getting warmer soon. I’ll put what I want over on the counter. You take the rest. I’ll leave the cellar open until dark. Make as many trips as you need.”

Veronika clasped her hands over her heart. “This is wonderful. I am so grateful. May I know your name?”

“Bohdana. My husband is Dmytro. You’re Veronika, I remember. And you?”

“I’m Oleksiy. Thanks for this. It means a lot. Are you sure you want to stay?” He checked with Veronika; she agreed. “Would you like to come with us?”

“Terrible mess that it is, this is my home.” Bohdana smiled cheerfully. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get it cleaned up, but that doesn’t matter. I never wanted to leave and neither did Dmytro. We knew it made things harder for our soldiers, friendly fire and all that, gives the zwastikas the advantage because they don’t give a crap how many people they blow up. Bunch of local rashists got the surprise of their life when they found out the hard way. Tiresome fools.” She cackled. “I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, I guess.” She gestured to the dwelling. “One house, maybe that’s an accident. All of them? No. I was sitting there knitting, minding my own business, and boom! Boom, boom, boom, right down the street. Then they tried to say we Ukrainians did it! When we saw the whole thing! Assholes.” She made an exasperated face. “But we just couldn’t do it, we couldn’t leave. It’s tempting to go with you because I love children, too, and never had any. But no. I want to stay here with Dmytro as long as I can.”

Squeak. Squawk. Squeak. Squawk. Dead dogs lay in red-black snow as the girl glided back and forth on the swing in the fading light.

Oleksiy had almost skipped this street since the mission had already been extraordinarily successful and they were running very late. Thank goodness he hadn’t. There was obviously something very wrong here. He gestured to Veronika.

She stepped from the wood into the yard. “Excuse me! I’m Veronika. Are your parents at home?”

Through the gap between the boards of the fence, he watched the girl jump from the swing and spin around. Her face was expressionless.

“Dad is in the front yard and Mom is in the living room. They’re dead. They got shot because Dad used to be a soldier.” Her voice was matter-of-fact.

“I’m sorry. Are you here alone? Have you seen any orcs recently?”

“I’m alone. No orcs yesterday or the day before.”

“What’s your name?”

“Nadiya.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m eleven. How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“You look younger.”

“That’s because I’m short. I feel older than that, though.”

Oleksiy couldn’t see Veronika’s face, but it sounded like she was smiling.

Nadiya’s face had an expression for the first time. She looked thoughtful. “Me, too. I feel a lot older. They shot the puppies, you know. Threw them up in the air and shot them. They thought it was funny. They thought Flower running and biting and trying to save her puppies was funny. They shot her, too. I was looking out the window, behind the curtain. Mom told me to stay in the safe place, but I didn’t. Not when Flower was crying like that. I saw other things, too. Then I ran back to the safe place.”

He leaned his head on the fence and took a deep breath. Shit. Brutal fucking shit. Poor kid. It was amazing she could even talk. Oleksiy straightened and took a quick survey of the wood. All was quiet and still.

Veronika said, “I’m sorry, so sorry. I’m so sorry they did that to you, your parents, and Flower and the poor puppies. There aren’t any words bad enough to say. A bunch of us are traveling together to safety. Would you like to come with us?”

“Is there safety? If not, I’d rather stay here with Mom and Dad and Flower.”

“Yes, Zaporizhzhia is much safer than here, it might be safe before then, and once we get there we can go onto other places, maybe even other countries.”

“That’s a long way.”

“It is. But every day it’s shorter and if we can find a way to safety sooner, we will. But some orcs are stealing kids so they can pretend to be people who save children. We don’t want that, not after they murdered us.”

Nadiya looked at the dead puppies. “I would hate that. Mom and Dad would hate that.”

“Is there anything you need from the house? Can you come with us now?”

The girl looked back at the house for a long time. “I don’t want to go inside anymore.” She turned away and took a few steps closer. “Can I hold your hand?”

“Not yet. I need it to shoot orcs. And right now, I want to go in and take some pictures. You don’t have to come and you never have to look at them. We take pictures so that no one can ever lie about what they did to you, to your parents, and to Flower and the puppies. I’ll be right back. What’s the best way?”

Nadiya pointed to the back door.

Veronika returned, panning over the backyard from the stairway landing. She put her phone away and said, “When we get to my partner, I can hold your hand. He’s a big boy, but he’s nice. He’s not an orc. You’ll like him. The orcs killed his parents, too, and then his grandpa died.”

Even after Veronika’s preparation, Nadiya ducked behind her when she saw the big boy with the rifle and camouflage. The top of her head was visible; she was slightly taller than her protector.

Veronika’s face was pale and clammy, her lips pressed tightly together. She swallowed hard, wiped a tear away, and shook her head with a little jerk.

That bad. Beyond awful. Horrifying. He was enraged. It took everything to force a smile onto his face. “Hello, Nadiya. I’m Oleksiy. I’m glad you’re here and that your parents saved you. I never had a sister, and I tell you, I’d trade ten of my brother for one sister.”

The laugh sounded normal, but Veronika’s smile didn’t reach her sad eyes. “Your brother’s not that bad. He’s just young and insecure.”

“When he has some time left over from being a pestilential little squirt.”

Nadiya peeked out with wide, light blue eyes behind pink, round-framed glasses under a tangled mop of shaggy, blond hair that looked like a lion’s mane. She whispered, “I never had a brother. I used to like boys.” The top of her head disappeared as she crouched behind Veronika.

“I understand. I’ll make sure the other boys stay away, too. If you’re ever upset, just say so. We’re glad to have you with us.” Oleksiy stepped well back and watched with pity as the terrified girl scuttled past, clutching Veronika’s hand with both of hers and keeping as far away from him as possible. God, he hated the orcs.

Returning to camp after four hours on guard duty, he stretched luxuriously while taking in the early morning scene. Some of the younger ones were seated around the fire, indulging their curiosity about the new girl. Nadiya had Yaryna on her lap, obviously as completely smitten as everyone else by the huge smile, cute freckles, and short, dark curls.

Oleksiy watched in consternation as Mykhailo snuck up behind Nadiya, poked her in the back, and shouted, “Boom!”

She screamed and leaped up. Swiftly snatching the wailing baby from where she had tumbled to the ground, Nadiya raced away across the camp. Zlata and Veronika intercepted her.

That was it. He was going to thrash that little shit. He had no idea why his father hadn’t done so long ago and often. Probably Mom’s fault. He groaned and shook his head. He couldn’t thrash that little shit, either. He would see Mom’s hurt, disappointed eyes every second. He grabbed Mykhailo by the arm and dragged him whining and protesting from the camp. “Sit down and shut up.”

Mykhailo fell over the log instead of on it. “Ow! Why did you do that? I was only playing. It’s not my fault the new girl is a scaredy-cat.”

Oleksiy ground his teeth. He hated that whiny tone. “You know you’re supposed to keep away from her. You know she’s afraid of boys right now. And you terrified her on purpose? Yes, it is your fault.”

The squirt crossed his arms and looked angrily at the ground.

“Do you mind if I interrupt?” Maksym’s low voice came from behind.

“Not at all. I’m at the fucking end of my fucking rope. I don’t know what to do.” He had been up and out for over twenty-four hours now. Dealing with his rotten little brother didn’t even make the list of last things he wanted to do. He gripped his head with both hands, trying to recover his temper. Mom and Dad had drilled it into him, over and over. Oleksiy was too big to ever lose his temper with Mykhailo.

Maksym glanced at him. “Have a seat.”

Did he really have to stay? Couldn’t he just foist his problem off and get some sleep? Wasn’t it Zlata’s job, anyway? No. Crap. Oleksiy dropped to the ground, leaned back against a tree, crossed his arms over his chest, and exhaled a noisy groan of resignation.

“Oleksiy is trying to help you, but he’s your brother.” Maksym sat on the log next to Mykhailo who refused to look at him. “He’s not your mom or your dad. He can never be your mom or your dad. And he doesn’t know how to be a parent or even just a grown-up. He’s too young for that and he never practiced.” He stretched out his long legs and crossed them. “And truly, the person who can really help you, Mykhailo, is you. You’re young but you’re pretty smart, so think about this: What do you think you’ll look like when you’re ten? Fourteen? Sixteen? Are you going to be as big and strong as Oleksiy?”

The boy looked up, surprised. “Yes. Even bigger, Mommy said.”

“Show me your fist.”

Mykhailo made a fist and smiled.

“It’s huge.” Maksym smiled back. “Deadly already. Do you want to be the kind of boy, the kind of man, who uses that fist to hurt women and children? Or will you use that fist to protect them, like your dad did?”

Staring sulkily at the ground, Mykhailo refused to answer.

“Think about the older boys and men that you really like, that you admire. The ones you want to be like when you grow up. Why?” Maksym continued slowly with pauses between every sentence. “Is it because they played mean tricks on you? Called you names? Beat you up? No. What is it about them that you like? What do they do? What do they say?”

Oleksiy was impressed. Where did Maksym learn this stuff? How to handle kids, people? Mykhailo’s face was red, his fists clenched in his lap, but he wasn’t tuning out or whining like he did whenever his big brother tried to get through to him.

“You have two paths open before you.” Maksym’s fingers walked down his leg. “Down one path, you become the kind of boy and man your mom admired and you admire, like your dad. But the path you’re on right now, it’s not that path.” The finger-figure slid off his leg.

“I don’t care! I hate everyone!” Mykhailo burst into tears. “My parents died! They left me! They made me go away! They didn’t want me! Oleksiy didn’t save them!” He put his head down on his knees and sobbed. “I don’t want to be nice! I want to break everything! I want everything to be destroyed!”

Tears started in Oleksiy’s eyes. He took a deep breath and forced them back. Christ, forgive me. The kid was barely seven.

Maksym rubbed the little boy’s back. “I have a lot of hate, too. And I’m really, really angry about all the cruel and terrible things that are happening. But I’m not going to let it push me off my path. I’m going to remember it, so I keep on my path. I don’t want to become like the people who hurt me. I love you. I love my sister, I love my parents, I love my people, I love my country, and I love you, Mykhailo.” He gazed calmly at Oleksiy.

Shit. It wasn’t about Mykhailo. It was about him, Oleksiy. He’d been poking his little brother in the back and shouting boom the whole time. Fuck. He was on the wrong path. His heart pounded. He couldn’t breathe. Everything he’d been holding in trying to be strong for Mykhailo, for Grandpa, for the others, and for himself came flooding back. The pain was … Help. He doubled over. Help me, please help me … Mom … Dad … Don’t leave me. I love you. Please don’t leave me here alone.

“No, don’t cry, don’t cry! Oleksiy, don’t cry!” Mykhailo flung himself from the log into his lap. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m bad! I’m sorry! Don’t make me go away! I love you! Don’t leave me! I’m sorry! Don’t make me go away!” He wailed.

“No, you’re not bad.” Oleksiy gasped for air and hugged his scared, hurt, angry, confused little brother. “You are not bad, Mykhailo.” Breathe. “Mom and Dad never thought that. Never. I don’t think that.” He couldn’t catch his breath. “I love you. I love you more than anything. I haven’t told you that enough. I love you. You’re hurt really bad. You need help and I didn’t help. I’m sorry. It’s not a bad thing to cry. Stay here and cry with me. I’m hurt really bad, too.”

Mykhailo’s arms tightened around Oleksiy’s neck as he sobbed into his shoulder.

Maksym left as quietly as he had arrived.

The little boy eventually fell asleep, worn out. Oleksiy pulled the furred hood closer around the tear-stained face with the red, swollen eyes and runny nose. He wished he could stay here forever in this moment of peace with his beloved brother.

Mykhailo stirred in the cocoon of the big coat. He woke, smiled, and then looked worried. “Do I have to apologize to the new girl?”

Typical little brother. Oleksiy smiled back. “Do you think you should?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to.”

Shit. Typical big brother was unprepared, as usual. What would Dad say? What would Mom say? “If I mean it, it just comes right out, even when I’m ashamed or embarrassed. Mom said that if I apologized for something and then turned right around and did it again, that meant I didn’t mean it.” Oleksiy rubbed his forehead. “You should think about what Nadiya saw with her own eyes in her own home. She was there. It was so bad, so evil, I can’t even talk to you about it. I can’t. I probably should have, but I don’t know how. But, Mykhailo, believe me, anyone who has a brain would be scared shitless after that. It’s really very brave that she can be here at all, and you didn’t help.” He sighed. “I want to apologize to you. I didn’t help, I haven’t helped you. I made things worse for you. I’m sorry. You’ve been tremendously brave and a big help here in camp and back at the farm. Thank you.” In his mind’s eye, he saw Mom smile approvingly and Dad grin conspiratorially as the images of the many times he had ‘helped’ them flashed by. It was strange seeing his young self from their point of view. Love and patience. But mostly a whole lot of love. That his little brother could never have again.

Mykhailo pushed away and looked up, fingers clenching the fabric of Oleksiy’s coat. “Why didn’t you save them? Why didn’t you save Mom and Dad? Why?”

“I don’t know how I could have. I don’t know why you think that.”

“You could’ve made them come. They would’ve come.” Mykhailo’s sad eyes dropped and he let go.

“Oh, I see. No, not this time. It’s not the same as me getting them not to be mad when I fed you cheese puffs for breakfast or when I came home late or stuff like that. It’s hard to explain, but it’s because they loved us and wanted us that they made us leave them and go to Grandpa. It’s complicated.” He sighed. “We’ll talk about it later when I’ve had some time to think. There’s a lot of big words, big ideas. I should talk to Grygoriy about it first, make sure I don’t say it wrong.”

“You promise? You won’t be too busy with important stuff?”

“I promise. You are important stuff.”

Mykhailo looked up and studied Oleksiy’s face as if he’d never seen it before. “You’re wearing your glasses.”

“I need to wear them more often, but I don’t like them, and right now it seems silly to worry about what my eyeballs will be like when I’m forty.” Oleksiy shrugged. “But if I do get to live that long, then I’ll be mad that I didn’t.”

“You being forty is weird. How old will I be?”

“Thirty-two.”

“Huh. That’s really old. But I’m going to have lots of fast cars when I’m grown-up. And a jet plane. With lots of cheese puffs. And a tiger. So that’s all right.”

“Sounds great. I hope you let me borrow them. But right now, I’m starving and a nice, old woman gave us some great food yesterday. No cheese puffs, though. But she would’ve if—Well, maybe not. She wasn’t that nice. She’s probably hoarding the cheese puffs. Ready to go back?”

“Yes. I’m starving, too.” Mykhailo looked worried again. “Did they save some for us?”

“I’m pretty sure they did, but I’ll make some if Zlata forgot.” Oleksiy helped Mykhailo out of his lap, stood up, and stretched. Argh. Nothing like an icy, stiff backside to make one appreciate sharing a two-person tent with three other people. He shook out his legs and led the way, slowly so Mykhailo didn’t have to run to keep up. It was tempting to carry him, but the little boy hated that.

Now that there was enough food for a while, Maksym would be itching to bolt. Sure enough, everyone was stuffing things into backpacks. Zlata, bless her, had put aside two huge servings of ham, diced potatoes with onions, and an apple each.

“Mmm. You are a magician.” Oleksiy closed his eyes and savored the mouthful.

Zlata laughed. “The best place for this food is in our bodies. As long as the cold weather holds, it’ll keep, but we should eat it up. I’m so sorry about the roster mix-up. I can’t believe neither Myroslava nor I caught it. Are you going to be all right?”

“I’ve done forty-eight before with no problem, not quite in these conditions. It’s good to test the limits. The worst that will happen is I’ll have to sling a hammock, take a nap, and catch up later.” He wished she would go away so he could stuff food in his mouth.

“Well, you’re off the roster until you get more sleep.” She looked around. “I’d better go finish with the bedding. You’ll need to clean up; everyone else is already done. I saved you some water.”

“Thanks. We’ll be ready as soon as possible.” After tidying himself, Mykhailo, and their tableware, Oleksiy joined Myroslava and Veronika to find out what his orders were.

“All rested?” Veronika frowned at him.

She had probably inherited his slew of abandoned chores. Too bad. He smiled cheerfully. “Maybe next month.”

“How’s Mykhailo?” Myroslava was keeping an eye on the preparations while trying to fit everything into her backpack.

“He seems all right for now, and the big meal will do him good.” He watched his brother struggling to fit the food into his little pack. “I’d better go give him a hand with that. Be right back.” When he was done cramming everything into the backpack, Oleksiy held it for him and adjusted the straps. “Too heavy?”

“No!” Mykhailo frowned. “If we have to make it lighter, what do we do?”

“We don’t get rid of the food, that’s for sure. Everything else can be replaced, one way or the other.”

“Good!” Mykhailo snorted indignantly. “I was getting really tired of being hungry.”

“You’re growing fast. I noticed your boots are getting too small. We’ll look for a new pair when we get a minute, but if they start hurting you, you need to say so right away. I’ll see you later.” He patted Mykhailo’s shoulder and then rejoined Myroslava. “What’s mine?”

She pointed. “That pile over there. Can you do it?”

He estimated the weight. It was going to be a serious challenge with the lack of rest. “I think so.” He took the smaller, spare backpack out of the large one. “How far?”

“Pretty far, but once we’re across the road, we’re going to make multiple trips. We scouted a long way, all around. It’s safe enough for now but things can change quickly, so I want everything on the other side right away. Stash the backpacks, get the kids to the new camp as fast as possible, then back and forth for the packs. I think it will be easier on everyone than one long, very overloaded trip. We’ll leave a rearguard, Maksym and Antin.”

“Right. Load me up then.” It wasn’t the heaviest he had ever carried, but it was close. He could deal with that for a short distance; the road wasn’t too far.

It took a long time to get across. Myroslava was being extra careful and Oleksiy certainly couldn’t blame her for that. As difficult as the night hikes were, day trips were even more nerve-wracking. When it was his turn, he raced over and was directed to the northeast. He followed the trail, lifting his feet up and making sure they were firmly planted. No time was a good time for him to take a fall, it would take the entire gang to tote his stretcher even a short distance, but now would be particularly bad. He caught up with Krystiyan, Lyaksandro, Mykhailo, and Marynia.

Crap. Lyaksandro had fallen and was obviously hurt, rocking and moaning. Marynia and Mykhailo couldn’t get him up.

Oleksiy said, “Mykhailo, can you get his backpack off? Marynia, what did he hurt?”

“His ankle. A sprain I think.” She hugged Lyaksandro. “It’s all right, you’ll be all right. It’s not your fault. These things happen.”

Lyaksandro’s backpack wasn’t very heavy. Oleksiy handed it to Mykhailo and Krystiyan. “Carry this between you. Can you do it? It’s not far, and if you have to leave it, you can.”

The boys looked at each other.

“We can do it,” said Mykhailo.

“Marynia, drop your pack and take Lyaksandro. I’ll carry your stuff.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, but you or I have to carry him, and I think it should be you. I’ll be coming slowly. No worries.” After the kidpack was ready, he turned to the boy. “Lyaksandro, I need to lift you up. It will be just for a few seconds, all right?” The boy nodded, so Oleksiy carefully maneuvered him into the carrier and then helped Marynia stand. “See you in a little while.”

“Thanks, see you soon.”

Mykhailo and Krystiyan followed her through the stark shadows of the winter wood.

He hefted Marynia’s pack. Heavy. Not surprising since she often carried both Lyaksandro and Sofiyko around, one in each arm. Oleksiy tightened the straps so they wouldn’t get caught on anything and strolled onward, switching the load from hand to hand regularly. Noisy birdsong from behind. He waited.

Antin appeared. “Maksym wants to know if you need some help.”

“No, just being careful.”

“We’ll hang back, then.”

“Thanks.” It wasn’t far, but the last stretch was up a slope. He was blown by the time he got to the top. Everyone was gathered in the small hollow on the other side of the rise. He took a moment to consider the problem of slippery momentum. Slow steps, side steps, rest against the tree. Myroslava was waiting at the bottom and helped him out of his backpacks. “Whew, that feels good.” He donned Mykhailo’s kidpack. “What else?”

Myroslava made a wry face. “Best laid plans and all that. It turns out Viktoriya has to be carried, too. She got huge blisters from her new boots and didn’t tell anyone about it soon enough, so we’re short a body. Can you carry both Bilyal and Mykhailo?”

Oleksiy shook his head emphatically. “Being overloaded with turnips is one thing. My hundred kilos coming down on little kids is another. But I don’t think Mykhailo needs a ride. Not for a while, anyway.” He looked at his little brother. “What do you think? Are you tired?”

“No. The dark makes me tired.” Mykhailo made a disgusted face. “It’s easier in the day. Krystiyan will pinch me if I get sleepy. I won’t get mad.”

Krystiyan nodded agreement.

“Maybe we’ll be able to travel more in the daytime now that we’re getting away from the villages. Where’s Bilyal?” Oleksiy looked around.

“Over there.” Krystiyan pointed.

Once Bilyal was situated, Oleksiy agreed that he could carry a light front load of sleeping bags and tarps for the shelter and took his place at the back of the middle.

The gang made good time for a long time. Bilyal entertained everyone with apocryphal tales of Uncle Redvan and the eagles but dozed off on Oleksiy’s shoulder after a few hours. As the afternoon wore on and on, the chatter of the children lessened and lessened.

Oleksiy moved farther up the center where he could keep an eye on Mykhailo and Sofiyko and lend an arm when needed. He told a few stories to keep them going.

Zlata took over and sang songs. The sun was setting. Just as Nadiya started leaning heavily on Zlata and the other middle kids began staggering, they made a right through some heavy brush. The fire, tents, and partially built shelter were waiting at the bottom of a gentle slope.

He thanked Bilyal for being such a good passenger, handed him off to Zlata, checked on Mykhailo, and then turned and followed Veronika and Grygoriy back to the top. “How much time?”

Veronika shrugged. “It can’t be done on schedule, too ambitious. We’d all be flat on our backs for the next day.”

“Myroslava’s pretty sure that we can catch some sleep next month.” Grygoriy waved away their pesky fatigue. “Or maybe the month after that. But, the kids did great. Even without their packs, that was a super long march for them.”

“It’s such a relief that everyone did so well, especially Nadiya. I was sure she was going to have to be carried.” Veronika looked up. “Fortunately, there’s some light, so we can run. Watch your feet.” She readied her rifle and ran into the gloom.

Oleksiy unhooked his rifle from the armory branch, loaded it, and raced after her.

Sometime in the early hours, he jogged in with his last load. Myroslava, Antin, and Maksym would bring the rest. Man, was he hungry. Food was waiting, warming by the fire. Oleksiy forced himself not to leap on it. “Seconds?”

Zlata frowned at him. “You haven’t even started on firsts.”

He slumped and gazed at her with big, sad eyes.

Veronika gasped, lowered her head, and dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief.

Monster of the Woods launched a barrage of protests. Grygoriy looked down and patted the monster sympathetically. “I know, I know, poor baby, she probably can’t help it. Some people are just like that, you know.”

“Oh, all right, already.” Zlata laughed. “I should have realized you’d all be starving.” She moved her pans back to the fire and rummaged through the food bags.

A long, satisfying while later, Oleksiy stood, stretched, and strolled to the little tent. Clean-up and chores were going to have to wait; he was done. He crawled in and slid into a sleeping bag. There was a lump inside his coat. He had forgotten to put his water bottles by the fire. He sighed. The last thing he needed was leaking water bottles in his bed. After a few minutes of trying to convince himself that they wouldn’t dare leak, he hastily flung them outside the door and dived back into the warm cocoon. Prayers would have to wait, too. He had said plenty yesterday.

He took a look around the camp in the morning light as he came off guard duty. Marynia was leaning against a tree at the top of the slope, pale and clammy, eyes shut. Oleksiy walked over. “Need any help?”

She looked embarrassed. “No. I don’t want Zlata or Veronika fussing over me. I’ll be fine in a few minutes. Something I ate.”

“All right. Hope you feel better.” He continued on without saying anything more. They all ate the same food, used the same water bottles, and slept in the same crowded spaces. It was none of his business. Or was it? She didn’t look fit for guard duty. He dropped down next to Mykhailo and Mykola by the fire. “You’re both up early.”

Mykola handed him a plate of food. “I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“Yaryna peed on us.” Mykhailo rolled his eyes dramatically. “Zlata had to help us get clean and get our new clothes for us. Yaryna went back to sleep in a dry spot, but then everyone was still gone away. I was really sleepy but I stayed awake.”

Oleksiy was learning to read between the lines. He hugged brother. “Thanks for staying up and waiting for me.”

Mykhailo put his hands on Oleksiy’s knee and looked up imploringly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“How do girls pee when they don’t have a penis?”

Crap. Do all little brothers ask such awkward questions at breakfast? No, it was probably just Mykhailo. Oleksiy glanced at Mykola; he was biting his lips and obviously not interested in helping out. What would Dad say? “Well, a girl has a tube from her bladder called a urethra, just like a boy, just like you. It’s smaller and farther back, not hanging out in the front.”

“It stays like that? I mean, when they grow up and grow boobs, why don’t they grow a penis too? Was Mom like that?”

Oleksiy bit his own lips for a moment. “Mom never said anything about her urethra to me. As far as I know, girls and women are like that, but I haven’t actually looked.”

“Can I see one?”

Mykola covered his mouth with his hand. The nice kid managed to keep a straight face.

“I don’t think so.” Oleksiy cleared his throat. “You’ll learn about it in school when you’re older, what happens when we eat and drink. Most kids your age are curious about it, that’s normal, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to ask or stare at people because they’re different. That’s rude, and people might think you’re weird.”

Mykhailo flushed. “Oh. I didn’t mean to be weird. It’s just I don’t know why everyone doesn’t have one because it’s easy to pee on things, then.”

“Yaryna didn’t have any trouble peeing on us.” Mykola shrugged. “I tried to be mad about it, but she was so happy that I was wet and awake, too.”

The conversation turned to the urgent issue of whether or not zombies pee, so Oleksiy finished the meal in relative peace and quiet. He put his plate and fork on the pile to be washed and knuckled Mykhailo’s head. “Have to get more sleep now, Zlata’s orders. Try not to make everyone mad at you until after I get up, Squirt.” Mykhailo ignored him as usual. Good. He must be feeling better.

Sticky bark was icky. But it was fun to look out and be taller than everyone, see the tops of heads.

Lyaksandro looked down. He smiled and went up higher. It was hard to think of him as a little boy because he was big, bigger than she was. But Myroslava said to remember because it wasn’t fair to treat him like he was older. He was a big little boy. He was smart, too. He learned new games really fast. Viktoriya liked him even though he did strange things sometimes, like when he sang wrong notes on purpose.

Borysko hung from a branch and kicked his legs for a minute before he got one up and over.

She laughed. He was a little monkey, so cute. There was a loud crack and the sky fell away. Something hit her back.

The little boys were crying.

She looked up at the sky. It wasn’t there, only blurry branches. Where were her glasses? Why was she … in a blanket in the wood? She remembered. Falling. Trying to get up …

Zlata leaned over her. “Viktoriya, I think you’ve broken your leg. We were taking Bilyal to the emergency clinic tomorrow, but it looks like we’ll go today instead. We need to splint your leg, but it’s going to hurt. I’m going to give you some medicine for the pain. Ready?”

She nodded. That hurt. Her leg hurt bad. She felt sick. The world was wobbly. “Why is everything spinning?”

“I think you hit your head, too. But it might just be from the pain and shock. Stay as still as possible.” Zlata looked away. “Veronika, will you check?”

Cool hands felt her head and pressed her neck and shoulders. “Ow, ow, ow! Mommy! I want my mom!” She didn’t mean to yell, it just came out. Nothing had ever hurt so much. It hurt to cry. She tried to stay still.

Veronika said, “I think you hit your shoulders on a branch coming down and that hurt your neck and head, too. Whiplash. I did that once on the uneven bars. It seriously sucked. I can’t say nothing is broken, but you’re able to move everything, even though it hurts. That’s good. We’re going to have to keep you very still.” She sighed and brushed back her hair.

Myroslava and Antin were there on either side, reaching for her.

Zlata held them back. “She’s in too much pain. I gave her some medicine, but it’s probably not strong enough. Hold her hands, both of you.”

“Why don’t we move her to a tent?” Antin looked scared.

He was hardly ever scared. It made Viktoriya feel even worse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mess up everything.”

“Little One, don’t. There’s nothing to be sorry for. Kids play, accidents happen.”

Antin hadn’t called her that in a long time because she was a big girl now and liked Viktoriya better. She didn’t call them Big Sister or Big Brother anymore. She used their real names. But it was all right for now.

Zlata looked into Viktoriya’s eyes again. “She should be moved as little as possible, and her leg must be splinted first. I’m certain it’s broken. Mykola is getting the sticks and ties ready.”

Antin looked at Myroslava. “Should we wait for Maksym to get back?”

She was crying. She wiped her eyes and said, “No, we all know what has to be done. That’s just procrastinating.”

Veronika said, “First, we need to find some way to brace her head and neck as well, keep them still. It’s what they did when I fell. I think I know what might work.” She ran away and came back fast with the smallest metal-framed backpack, some rolled-up shirts, rope, and a pair of little boots. She slid the frame under Viktoriya’s back and used t-shirts between it and her neck. She stuffed shirts in the boots and put one on each side of Viktoriya’s head with the feet in front, under her chin, and tucked another rolled shirt there. Then she stuffed the other cloths around the frame and under the ropes.

It hurt. Viktoriya yelled again and again, and cried harder. She didn’t want to but she couldn’t help it.

“I’m sorry, so sorry. How does it feel now?” Veronika’s face looked down at her from behind so it looked upside down.

“It helps. It’s easier than holding still. But I can’t wipe my eyes.” Her upper arms were tied to the frame. “I can’t see. I can’t see the sky. I want my glasses.”

Myroslava wiped her eyes and nose for her, like she was a baby. “Your glasses broke. We’ll get the spare pair as soon as we get a minute.”

Mykola came and Zlata put the thick sticks, ties, and folded t-shirts next to Viktoriya’s leg. She moved them around for a while, but Viktoriya couldn’t see what she was doing.

“Shouldn’t we take her boot off?” Myroslava looked at Zlata.

“I think we should leave it for the professionals unless we don’t have any choice. Viktoriya, everything’s ready. I’m going to put my hands under your knee and foot and lift your lower leg just a little so we can slide the splint under it. It’s important that you don’t move. Take some deep breaths and try to relax. Antin and Myroslava, make sure she doesn’t try to sit up. Veronika, are you ready?”

Antin was crying.

“I’m scared.” Viktoriya couldn’t catch her breath.

“I’m sorry, we don’t mean to scare you. We’re crying because you’re hurt. We’re a little scared, but it’s going to be all right. It won’t be forever, you’ll get better.” Antin kissed her forehead.

She felt Zlata’s hands slide under her leg. The sky swirled and went away.

Antin was there again. “The orderly said if no zwastikas are there, they hang a Ukrainian flag from the back, top-right window.” He looked down at her. “You’re awake. How are you?” He knelt. “I have your glasses.” He held up the cheetah-print glasses and slid them on her face, making sure the silicone grips were in the right place behind her ears and not pulling her hair. “I know you hate the grips, but you can’t use your hands right now.”

Her voice didn’t work. Viktoriya whispered, “Thanks. That’s much better. I’m all right, but I want to get up. I don’t like being tied down.” She made a face.

“It’s not a good feeling, but it won’t be for long.” He held her hand and kissed her forehead. “You can do it.”

She was lucky. Myroslava and Antin ignored her a lot because they had each other. But when she was scared or needed help, they were there like lions. They had always seemed like lions to her. Ever since she could remember. She tried to move a little to get more comfortable and everything hurt and was wobbly again. She couldn’t stay awake.

It looked like it might rain, and that would be icky because rain would get in her—Viktoriya gasped when the stretcher shook. But she didn’t yell this time. It didn’t hurt as bad as before. It wasn’t really uncomfortable. She could only feel a few branches through the sleeping bag. Suddenly, there was a building. A door opened and voices said something. There was a little light.

“Here, through here.”

She was in a shadowy room. A couple of people were there, and Antin gave them a letter from Zlata. They asked him questions and then gave Viktoriya pain medicine. They listened to her heart and breathing. And looked in her eyes and ears. They asked her to remember things. They asked her to move her fingers and toes. Then they moved her to a new, bright room. There were three people.

“That neck brace is ingenious. I’ll have to remember that. Viktoriya, I’m Doctor Nina, this is Sergiy who knows all about every machine here, and this is Nurse Petra. We’re going to use this machine to take a little peek at what’s going on before we do anything else. If the pain is too much, let us know, don’t be quiet.”

Sergiy used a machine to take pictures of her bones. It hurt a little, but he mostly moved the machine around. Then they took off the neck brace and the splint. That hurt but the medicine was working. Viktoriya felt a lot better.

Doctor Nina said, “We’re going to give you a neck and back brace, a walking boot, and crutches. Amazingly, we actually have them in your size. Your muscles, tendons, and ligaments—the things that are moving your bones and holding them together—of your neck and shoulders need some rest. You gave your brain a little bang, so you’ll have some nausea, fatigue, and probably a few headaches. Your leg is broken, but it will heal up fine as long as you don’t stand on it for a while. It’s not a bad break, but there’s no such thing as a good one. You brother has all the information about when you can try to do what and some exercises for you to do in the meanwhile, but don’t push yourself. Your body will tell you a lot, if you listen.” The doctor patted her head and smiled. “Other than your recent injuries, you’re in very good health and it won’t be long before you’re feeling much better.”

Viktoriya tried to nod and remembered she couldn’t. “Thank you.” She had never thought about listening to her body. What did that mean? Paying attention, that’s what. She had been doing that all day because she couldn’t not pay attention. She sighed and closed her eyes.

Horrible noise. Her eyes opened wide. It hurt. The noise hurt. Bombs. Someone lifted her. She screamed. There was a voice in the black.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ve got you, we have to go.” Oleksiy carried her over his shoulder.

Everything was confused. Viktoriya couldn’t see anything except the back of Oleksiy’s coat unless she looked really hard out of the corners of her eyes because she couldn’t turn her head. There was smoke. Dark halls and rooms were full of yelling people. There was light from cellphone flashlights, but it was dusty and dirty and smoky. They were outside. It was cold. She was crying. It hurt. She tried to stop. Where were Antin and Myroslava?

“Wait! Wait! Take them with you! The traffickers will take them!” It was Nurse Petra’s voice. “Go with Oleksiy, stay with Oleksiy. He’ll help you. Run.”

Viktoriya swung around when Oleksiy turned. It made her feel really sick.

“Fast, follow me.” Oleksiy turned back around.

Really, really sick. She threw up. It came out her nose. When she was done, she saw two small shadows out of the corner of her eye. The building was burning and Nurse Petra was a dark shape running back to it. Oleksiy jumped over something, and she yelled because that hurt a lot. She was in a wood. The two shadows crawled through the ditch.

“Dalila, Ayana, stay with me. Viktoriya, are you all right?” Oleksiy pulled her down from his shoulder and held her against his side. He used his other hand to help two little girls out of the ditch.

Viktoriya gasped. She shook. When she could talk she said, “Hanging hurt really bad.” She started crying again. “Where’s Antin? The nice people. The nice people in the clinic. It’s on fire. Where’s Myroslava?”

A dark shape ran over the little hill. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Oleksiy!” Myroslava kissed her and hugged him. “Where’s Antin? Oh, there he is.”

He ran up. Behind him, the clinic burned.

Viktoriya started sobbing, but it hurt too much. She had to stop. She took fast, little breaths.

“Are you all right?” Myroslava hugged him.

He bent over and took gulping breaths like he was drinking air. He coughed hard and made noises like he was going to throw up. “Stupid asshole zwastikas. I’m all right, Viktoriya, I’m all right. Just a lot of smoke and dust. I was in the bathroom. I got a few scratches from glass and tile breaking. I went for you but you were gone. Then I helped get some people out. They didn’t know the way in the dark and smoke. Shit.” He straightened up and kissed her. His face was dirty and he smelled strange, kind of like a hot car. “I know you’re scared to death. It was terrifying. It looks like we’ll have to do without the last checkup. Crap, I hope they’re all right.” He looked at the hospital, sighed, and then back at Oleksiy. “Thank you. All the gratitude in the Universe is not enough.” He looked at Myroslava. “You got Bilyal back?”

“Yes, he’s safe. Maksym and Veronika left just a few minutes ago to scout.” She leaned against a tree. “Whew. What a day.” She reached into her backpack.

“We have new members.” Oleksiy pointed to little ones hiding behind him.

Myroslava gave the big boot she was holding to Antin. “Oh my.” She knelt. “I’m Myroslava. Can you tell me your names?”

The girls held each other and shook their heads.

Oleksiy said, “Their names are Dalila and Ayana, they’re twins, but I don’t know who is who. It’ll have to wait.”

Viktoriya watched Antin put the big sock and boot over her cast. It felt good. Her toes were getting really cold. Then he got a thermal blanket from his backpack and wrapped her in it because most of her clothes were in the clinic. He cleaned her face and glasses for her.

“That’s the best I can do. You can’t have a cold, wet head right now, so your hair will have to wait.” He put his knit hat on her, sliding it carefully over the head strap, pulled up his gaiter and tightened his hood. “Let’s go.”

Oleksiy carried her. It was bouncy and made her feel sick. She wished she could turn her head. If she threw up it would get all over both of them. There were hoots. She tried to look. Then Maksym and Veronika were there.

“That scared the holy shit out of us. Is everyone all right?” Maksym looked at the new girls. “More survivors?”

Oleksiy nodded. “Tell you later.”

Veronika was crying. She kissed Viktoriya and hugged everyone. Then she saw Dalila and Ayana. “Oh, little sweeties. You must be so scared. I’m Veronika.” She knelt down next to the girls.

Maksym said, “Viktoriya, are you all right? Can you be carried like that or do we need to get a stretcher for you?”

“I’m all right.” She closed her eyes. It made things worse. She opened them.

“Oleksiy? You were in the clinic?”

“Yes, but on the other end. I’m fine as far as I know. My ears are ringing like I listened to loud music too long, but that’s about it. I can carry her back to camp.”

Viktoriya didn’t like being tied down, but she didn’t want to throw up on Oleksiy again. “I might be sick. Should I get a stretcher?”

“If you want, we’ll try to get one. But don’t worry about being sick on me. I feel pretty sick, myself. We’ll get you cleaned up as soon as we get back. Are you warm enough?” He tucked the blanket tighter.

“Yes. I want to go now. I want to get away from here.”

“I’ll lead.” Maksym moved away into the dark.

Viktoriya was glad Myroslava didn’t have to go ahead. She stayed close by and carried one of the new girls. Veronika had the other one, and the little girls got upset if they were far apart, so she was close by, too. It seemed to take days to get back to camp. The hospital was much farther away than she remembered. More bombs exploded behind her. They hurt her head even though they weren’t close. She was so, so tired. She shut her eyes. Everything whirled around. She opened them. “I hope they’re all right. They were so nice.”

Huh. She was in the little tent. She kind of remembered coming back to camp. When it started to hurt too bad, Antin had given her more medicine and it made her … sleepy? That wasn’t the right word. It had seemed to take days to get back. The hospital was much farther away than she thought. She wished she could stretch, but it hurt. Everything hurt. It was good to be clean. Zlata had helped her clean her nose. That was like when she accidentally got water in it at the pool, except on purpose. It felt better. It wasn’t stuffy anymore. There were voices outside the tent. She wasn’t supposed to listen, that was eavesdropping. But she did.

Oleksiy said, “We talked about it while I was waiting. The orcs said the father was a spy and took him away. No one knows what happened to him. Then someone broke into the house and killed the mom. The orcs blamed a local, but everyone knows which zwastika skinhead it was. It wasn’t the first time.”

“Oh, my god!” Zlata sounded really mad. “I am just so … There aren’t even words. I’m so glad they got away, that they’re here.”

“They almost didn’t. A kind bootlicker was caring for them and found some family members. Except they weren’t. They were sold to traffickers. Apparently twin girl babies are worth a lot to pervs.”

“I feel sick. What happened?”

“Nurse Petra and others at the clinic knew it was impossible for the girls to have relatives here, so they made something up, faked the records. The twins needed their medical treatment before they traveled. Then they hid them and refused to give them back. Bootlicker has since disappeared in a hurry with the money. Rumor is that the traffickers are mad and complained to the orcs. They had spent a lot on bribes, documents, passes, and all that, too. They want the girls.”

“Oh, my god.”

Oleksiy and Zlata didn’t talk anymore.

Viktoriya didn’t know before that children could be sold. What were pervs?

She looked silly. Myroslava’s clothes were way too big for her, but she couldn’t get her own on. Then she felt silly because who cares if she looks silly? No one. Oh! Birdsong. It sounded like Antin. He and Veronika were back. They came down to the fire where Zlata was. Both had big backpacks on. And the crutches. And a stretcher. They thought it was really cool. They showed how it worked. Yuck. Viktoriya couldn’t decide which was worse, being carried by Oleksiy or being tied down.

“Nurse Petra said it was better for us to have the stuff than for it to get stolen or blown up. Look, snap-on clothes. Just what we needed.” Antin pulled other things from the pack. “I have a list of which medicine is for what just in case there are any you’re unfamiliar with.” He dug a hand into one of his pockets and pulled out a wad of paper.

Zlata smiled and clasped her hands over her heart. “This is incredible, wonderful. How is everyone?” 

Veronika said, “No one was killed. It’s amazing, really. A lot of injuries, but no one was in the part of the clinic that took the direct hits. They’re staying open for now, refusing to close. So brave. But it won’t be long before they have to shut down, I think, get driven out or deported.” She sighed. “The zwastikas are giving everyone a hard time, but they haven’t shot anyone there, yet. Sergiy has to hide or they’ll take him away because he used to be an EMT in the army. He was very clever about sneaking everything out to us.”

“What about Ayana and Dalila?”

Antin said, “Nurse Petra was clever, too. She put the word out that they were taken away by zwastikas, so this particular unit now has a reputation for double-dealing.”

Viktoriya didn’t know what that meant, just that the girls were safe for now. Ayana and Dalila were sitting next to her. Ayana had blue beads in her hair. Dalila had yellow beads. They weren’t sucking their thumbs because they had mittens on. But she knew they wanted to. Their hands went there and then went back down. They were too old for that but it was all right because it made them feel better. They were still really, really scared. They hid their faces a lot and their eyes were wide. They had really pretty eyes, like Katryna’s, but with green flecks instead of yellow flecks.

The other girls finished their jump-rope game. They came over and sat down. Viktoriya watched the clouds of warm breath disappear into the cold air. She wished she could jump rope. Nadiya and Katryna were really good and they were teaching everyone, but now they would get much better than Viktoriya by the time she could jump again. She tried not to feel left out.

“Where are they from, do you think?” Sofiyko smiled at the new girls. “They’re so pretty.”

“From Africa, maybe,” said Katryna.

“I don’t think they’re from Africa,” said Nadiya. “They were probably born here just like us. Well, not just like us, no one is just like anyone, everyone’s different, but you know what I mean. They belong here. This is their country, too. We can’t let the orcs steal them.”

Sofiyko said, “I wonder what happened to their parents, their family. No one has said anything.”

Larysa frowned at her. “Maybe the same thing that happened to Yaryna’s. Just because they don’t want to talk doesn’t mean they can’t hear.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …” Sofiyko was embarrassed. She turned to the twins. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“Mama said run. Go away. Not come home, go away. Bad, mad man with guns …” Ayana started crying. “Mad man said Mama bad names. Did bad things.” She said something in a different language.

Viktoriya lifted her into her lap. It hurt a lot. She didn’t care. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry your mama was hurt and you had to run. You’re very brave.”

Dalila sat on her lap, too. She put her arms around her sister. “Don’t want brave. Don’t like brave. Want Mama. Not bad, no, never. Mama is good. Always good. Never bad. No.” The little ones held each other and cried, whispering unknown words.

“Mama isn’t bad, she is not! The bad soldier lied! Mama is good! Very good!” Viktoriya was so mad she was shaking. She looked at Larysa through the tears. “Get Zlata, please?”

Larysa wiped her eyes. She nodded and left.

Sofiyko, Nadiya, and Katryna scooted closer. All the little girls cried, holding on to each other.

“We want our mamas, too,” Viktoriya whispered.

Zlata and Veronika picked up Ayana and Dalila, and Grygoriy carried Viktoriya to the big tent and helped her get in it. Then he left to keep an eye on the fire and the little boys. The other girls crowded in, and Larysa told the big girls what Ayana and Dalila said.

“The bad soldier lied. He said wrong, mean things. He was very bad, cruel, and evil. Mama is good, very good. She didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing was her fault, nothing. Never.” Zlata looked up as Grygoriy passed some warm, spiced water into the tent. She helped Dalila drink some and then passed the cup to Veronika for Ayana. “Everyone knows Mama is good. You know Mama is good. I know Mama is good. The people in the hospital know Mama is good. The people in the town know Mama is good. God knows Mama is good. The bad soldiers know Mama is good, but they lied because they’re mean, nasty, evil.”

Viktoriya was tired of sitting up. Tired of crying. Tired of hurting. Tired of everything. “Why? Why are the zwastikas so mean and nasty? What he did was already so bad, why did he make it so even worse?” She didn’t know how to say what she meant.

Zlata smoothed Viktoriya’s hair back from her face. “I don’t know why. I’m fifteen, and I’d never even met a bad man before that I know of. I’d heard of them, in the news or at school. I don’t know what it is that makes some men so very cruel and evil, so hateful, turns them into orcs, monsters. Someone probably knows. But it’s not all men. And it’s not just men. Some women are orcs, too.”

Nadiya sat cross-legged next to Veronika. She rested her head on her hand. “When the monsters were at my house … You’re right. It wasn’t all. When I look back … it was only two who … But the others didn’t stop them. They didn’t want to do what they were told. But they did. One threw up. They laughed at him and slapped him. They called him puke and other names. I feel sorry now for him and the others. But I don’t understand why they didn’t say no. Why didn’t they stop them?”

“Oh, Nadiya.” Zlata shook her head. “I really don’t know. Maybe they were afraid they would get killed themselves if they didn’t. But … how can they live with themselves? I don’t know.”

“How are you doing, Nadiya?” Veronika gave her a cup of water.

“Everything still looks far away, like it’s on a different planet.” Nadiya closed her eyes for a few moments and a tear trickled down. “Yaryna helps. She feels close. It helped to save her from Mykhailo. I know that’s not really what happened, but it felt like it.” She looked at the baby napping in a corner. “Mykhailo was nice yesterday while we were waiting. He said he was sorry. He drew pictures of Flower and the puppies. Every single one, with their names. I’m not afraid of him anymore. He’s just a little boy who played a stupid, mean trick.” She took off her glasses and wiped her eyes.

“I never wanted to spank anyone before. I don’t know if I’m happy or sad that Oleksiy hauled him off before I could,” said Zlata. “Dalila, do you remember your grandmother or grandfather? Where they are?”

Dalila nodded.

Ayana took her thumb from her mouth. “Bibi and Babu. Kenya. Zuri marry soon. Go that big city. Big, fast airplane. Pretty dresses.” She rubbed her eyes.

“Come lie down here.” Zlata patted the blankets. “Viktoriya needs to sleep, too. The rest of us will go outside.” She helped Viktoriya lie down, put her glasses away for her, made sure everyone was warm, and then followed the others out.

Dalila and Ayana held hands and whispered to each other.

The words were interesting. Different. There were sounds that Viktoriya couldn’t make. Or maybe she could, she just never did before. “What is the word for … Oh.” The little twins were asleep. She sighed. She missed Mom and Grandma so much. She always had a long talk with Grandma before bed. They played cards or backgammon. Sometimes they played chess, but she didn’t like it because there was no reason for the armies to go anywhere. They should stay on their own sides of the board. Myroslava explained that the game was really about getting the other person to do what you want, and even if she thought it was boring and stupid, she should let Grandma teach her because it made her happy. Viktoriya would play chess every night if only she could see Grandma again. A tear trickled down her face. It tickled but she couldn’t quite reach it to wipe it away. She yawned. She should take a nap, but she was tired of being tired. She didn’t want to sleep. She wished she had someone to talk to.

Zlata was probably sitting just outside, doing a chore like she always did. Like Myroslava. She was always doing something, too. Viktoriya liked to do nothing sometimes. Like Antin. She could hear and see a lot when she did nothing. Things that she didn’t know before. Her eyelids shut. It was funny how they felt sometimes, like they were bricks. She would have to remember to ask Antin why …

She hated the stretcher. But she couldn’t sit up in the kidpack for long enough yet. Now she knew how really sick Bilyal had been. He couldn’t sit up at all, then. And she only forgot a little bit. He had forgotten whole days. That must be weird. The people at the clinic were surprised that he was alive. At first, they almost didn’t believe Myroslava when she told his story. Then they called him a diamond because he was so tough. They said the little diamond was all right for now, his hearing would probably get a bit better, but he needed to go to a big hospital and get that and some other things fixed.

There was a low-water bridge they could use to get over the river. It was for farmers and tractors. Or else they would have to go through the town to the big bridge. It was too dangerous. So they would go to the little bridge in the fields. But there wasn’t enough cover so it had to be at night.

Grygoriy and Oleksiy lifted the stretcher. The smaller boy had the feet end so that they weren’t higher than her head because that would make her sick and give her a headache. Maksym and Antin adjusted the straps and checked the buckles.

Zlata said, “Are you warm enough?”

“Yes.”

Antin said, “I know you don’t like it. It won’t be for long. Hang in there.” He finished cleaning her glasses and put them back on for her.

Myroslava kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand. “Ready?”

They had shiny, bright eyes that looked almost gray in the daytime. The color always made her think of the sea in winter. She missed the sea. It was far away now. She never saw it or smelled it anymore. Her own eyes didn’t look like water, they were a different color. “Why did my eyeballs—Oh, never mind. I’m ready.”

Myroslava and Antin went away. They had to lead and follow.

Viktoriya looked up because there was nothing else she could look at. It wasn’t dark enough yet for stars, and it was getting cloudier, anyway. But it was warmer tonight. There wasn’t as much wind. Birdsong. The trees started sliding by. It was bad, but there weren’t as many bounces and sudden turns as being carried. She closed her eyes. She wondered why closing her eyes made things worse when she was moving. It had never bothered her before. She hoped it would go away when her head got better. Bilyal might know. She should ask him. If she had to throw up, she had to yell first because she couldn’t move her head and sit up. She might choke. Throwing up made embarrassing noises. And it smelled bad. And it got in her nose. She opened her eyes. The bare branches moved across the dark sky. They were really boring. Except the ones that looked like claws. Or the ones that were growing in weird directions like they changed their minds every year. “Oleksiy?” She could barely see him if she looked up hard. Mostly she could see under his chin. And up his nose. There was a booger in his right nostril. Or was that his left? No, it was his right. She hoped it wouldn’t fall out on her. But she threw up on him, so she shouldn’t—What if he sneezed? That would be—

“Yes?”

“Why did the orcs kill the puppies?”

“I don’t know. What I think is that however hard it is to kill puppies, it’s even harder to kill people.”

Viktoriya thought about that. “They killed them to practice being mean?”

“I think so. But it could be the opposite. That after you’ve killed people, puppies don’t matter anymore. What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know there were any reasons to kill puppies.”

“What I can say for sure is that it was horrible. And having to talk about it with little kids is … nasty.”

“I’m sorry.” She felt tears start in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to be nasty.”

“Don’t be sorry. That’s not what I meant. Nothing is your fault, nothing, not in a million years, never.”

“That’s right,” said Grygoriy over his shoulder. “Ask anything. However hard it is to answer, that’s not your fault.”

She watched the black branches slide by. It was getting really dark, fast. Pretty soon she wouldn’t be able to see where the booger landed. “Oleksiy?” At least it couldn’t get in her hair because it was covered up, but—

“Yes?”

“Do you feel like you need to sneeze?”

“Uh, no. Do you?”

“No. Does pepper—”

Hoots. Loud. The scary ones. The stretcher shook and tilted. Viktoriya gasped.

The big boys ran from the slippery, muddy lane into the bushes next to the wood.

“What is it? What’s happened?” She hated that she couldn’t sit up, couldn’t see.

“Shhh. A motor. Someone’s coming. Shit.”

The big boys were silent, listening.

She held her breath and listened. A low noise. Closer. Closer. Flickers of light shone through the bare branches and tree trunks.

Grygoriy said, “Down. One, two, three.”

Both boys knelt, took off the harnesses, and loaded their rifles.

Now the light was really bright. What if something bad happened? What if she was left all alone in the wood, in the dark, tied to a stretcher? Her breath was coming too fast. She tried to slow down like Myroslava showed her. It was hard.

The light went out. The motor turned off. A voice called out in the dark, “My wife said now would be a good time for me to go visit the neighbors on the other side of the river. And when she talks in that tone of voice, well, that’s an order. So anyone else who’s going that way, you might want to catch a ride in the wagon.”

Silence.

Grygoriy whispered, “Maksym is talking with the man.”

Silence. The sounds of wind through the branches and dead grasses.

“Myroslava is talking with Maksym.” Oleksiy leaned over the stretcher to see better.

Birdsong. Viktoriya let out her breath with a whoosh. Maksym and Myroslava thought it was safe. She started crying. “I’m sorry, I can’t be quiet.”

“It’s all right,” said Oleksiy. “I was scared, too.” He put his rifle away.

She tried to catch her breath as the boys lifted the stretcher.

“Myroslava wants Viktoriya in the wagon first.” Antin was suddenly there. “Little One, it’s all right. Were you scared? Of course you were. I’ll walk with you. Hold my hand. Ready?” He looked at Grygoriy.

“Forward, one, two, three.”

It was a large wagon. The floor was covered with straw. They put her down against the front rails, next to the tractor. It had really big wheels. It was tall. The farmer smiled down at her over his shoulder.

Viktoriya smiled back.

The big boys helped the other children into the wagon. Myroslava and Veronika came to the front and stood in the corners. They were going to ride standing up. There would be a great view.

That was very annoying. “Where’s Antin?”

“He and Maksym will ride on the tractor with the farmer. Hush now.”

She didn’t know why she should hush when everyone was making so much noise, but she did anyway.

Myroslava looked at her. She smiled, knelt down, and whispered in her ear, “Antin has to make sure that the man takes us to the right place, but it’s kind of rude to say out loud that if he makes a wrong turn, Antin’s going to steal his tractor. The farmer seems like a nice man even though he’s made things worse by trying to help. We need to get the heck out of here as fast as possible now. He’s worried about the traffickers. Everyone around here knows about them. It’s very brave of him. He’s going to go back and run over our tracks when it gets light enough. He wishes he could do more.” She kissed Viktoriya’s cheek. “I know it’s hard not being able to see what’s happening.”

Zlata had told everyone Ayana’s and Dalila’s story, so Viktoriya knew what traffickers and pervs were now. It was super gross. And it wasn’t just little, twin girls, either. Little boys like Borysko and Lyaksandro were in a lot of danger, too. Even big boys and girls. And Myroslava had explained that the zwastika that killed Ayana’s and Dalila’s mom was crazy as well as evil. What had made Viktoriya so angry was that the crazy zwastika said his evilness was somehow all Mama’s doing, said it to her babies. That was so over-the-top vile and disgusting it made everyone mad as hell. There were crazy people who could never be wrong. Every evil thing they did, no matter what, was always someone else’s fault. They were never wrong or to blame. Myroslava said it was really weird to watch and listen to those crazies because they seemed to have no idea that everyone else knew they were around the bend. Anyway, Viktoriya would know more about pervs and crazies when she got older. It was unfortunate that she had to learn about them now, but there were such an awful lot of them in Ukraine all of the sudden. Some had even traveled for thousands of miles.

Everything was ready. Oleksiy and Grygoriy raised the gate of the wagon. There were metal sounds when they made it stay shut. They stayed there, at the back, standing up.

She remembered those sounds from her play wagon. It was almost the same. The tractor engine started with no extra noise. Antin once told her that meant it was good and someone was taking care of it. She was happy about that, because it was right next to her head, in her ears. She couldn’t hear anything else anymore, and the smell was icky until they started moving. Then it wasn’t so bad. The farmer didn’t use headlights this time. She wondered how he could see the way in the dark. The tractor was going fast. It made the air a lot colder. Water and mud spattered sometimes. There must be mud flaps or they would all be completely covered in it by now. They rode for a long time around fields. The man slowed down where there was a lot of mud. He drove close to the trees and the branches were fatter. When he drove next to the bushes, sometimes sticks broke off and fell into the wagon. One hit her nose and made it sting. The stretcher bounced a lot but it wasn’t too bad because of the straw, and Larysa and Mykola were holding it down. Except they bounced when it bounced, so she wasn’t really sure what they were doing. “Larysa, what are you doing?” She had to yell because of the tractor.

“Keeping the stretcher from flipping over or bouncing onto the little ones!”

“Oh! Good! I wouldn’t like that!” Her ear itched because Larysa yelled in it but she couldn’t rub it. That was very annoying. Suddenly there weren’t any more trees. The tractor went faster. She didn’t know tractors could go that fast. Now there was a bright moon behind the gray blanket in the sky. It made it glow. Myroslava had explained about the earth and the moon and the sun with an orange and a cherry on sticks, and a candle. Viktoriya didn’t understand. She ate the orange and the cherry. The cherry was good. She and Myroslava ate all the cherries. Antin was mad. He didn’t get any. She should ask again. Maybe she would understand better now because she was older. But they didn’t have oranges or cherries anymore.

The tractor slowed and there were a lot of bumps. Then there were more trees. It turned around. The motor turned off. The branches came from all directions. They were in a wood. The other kids got out of the wagon. Then it was Viktoriya’s turn. She wondered if Oleksiy had sneezed yet.

“Big plantation but east and north edges are mostly wild, older. No zwastikas because it’s too far away from everything, nothing important out here in the mud. Good camping spot away over there, near the little creek.” The farmer pointed.

Maksym said, “Thank you so much, and thank your wife. How did she know?”

“Lambing. She was in the south barn when you passed by. Sheep like her. Zwastikas come every few days and steal things, but they leave the livestock alone for now. I’d better go visit my friends.”

Antin said, “What will you tell them?”

“Nothing. Known them all my life. They won’t ask awkward questions. I’ll borrow some unnecessary equipment and that will be the end of it.”

“Thanks a million.”

“Good luck.” The engine started up and went away. In a few minutes, the wood was quiet and still.

She looked up at Oleksiy. “Can I get up?”

“Not yet. We may have to move fast.”

“How did the man drive in the dark like that?”

Oleksiy shrugged. It made the stretcher go up and down. “He was pretty old, maybe sixty or seventy. I’d say he can drive those fields in his sleep, he knows them so well. Time to go. Ready?”

“I’m ready. Myroslava was kind of mad at the man. She said it wasn’t good. Why was it worse?”

“Oh. Well, in one way it was very good. He was a good man trying to help. But maybe not the brightest star in the sky, and neither am I. I would’ve done the same thing. Zlata said a big, hot, noisy tractor driving around fields in the night is a huge target, and that they tried to get him to go away, but he wouldn’t listen. We were either going to get bombed because we’re standing next to a hot vehicle where there shouldn’t be one, or surrounded by orcs coming to check on the odd farming, or nothing bad was going to happen. In the end, they decided to get out of here as fast as possible. And it was a bit silly to drive with the lights off, looks really suspicious. Even I know that. He did know the best way, the one with the most cover. I hope he makes it back safe.”

“Me, too. I’m glad he’s a good man.” She watched the stupid, boring branches go by. The last time she complained, Antin said being bored was a luxury. He hadn’t been bored in weeks, unfortunately. That was very annoying but she didn’t know why. He said it was because he was being an asshole and shouldn’t tease her when she wasn’t feeling well. That made her feel a little better, so it was probably true. She still didn’t know why looking at boogers and tree branches was a luxury, like a vacation or a fast, pretty car. No one spent a lot of money to look at—They were here. Oleksiy and Grygoriy held the stretcher steady while Marynia and Zlata helped her get out. The girls held her while she did some one-legged knee bends to keep her good leg strong. She couldn’t use crutches or even lean on anyone because it hurt her shoulders and neck. She had to be carried everywhere.

“Everything all right?” Zlata pulled Viktoriya’s hood forward, tucked her hair back from her face, and straightened her glasses for her.

She tried to nod. “Yes.”

“Good. Can you sit by the fire and help with the little ones for a while? Or do you need to rest?”

“I’m tired of resting. I want to sit by the fire.”

Zlata lifted her up, took her to the fire, and helped her sit down. Then she put Yaryna in her lap. The baby was playing with her doll. Dalila and Ayana were whispering a song to each other.

Borysko was mad. His arms were crossed over his chest. “We have to sit still. I don’t want to sit still. I want to run. And climb a tree. I liked the wagon ride. But I had to be quiet. I don’t want to be quiet.”

“Me, either.” Viktoriya tried to shrug. “You weren’t tied down in a stretcher. You got to see things. Do you want to play a string game?”

“No.” He frowned at her. “I want to climb a tree. Why does Maksym get to cuss? I don’t get to cuss. Zlata got mad. Why don’t I get to cuss?”

She tried to shrug again. She could shrug just a little. “Because Maksym has a potty-mouth and you don’t. Four-year-olds aren’t allowed to have potty-mouths.”

“Potty-mouth!” Yaryna liked to yell new words. “Potty-mouth! Potty-mouth!” She smiled at Viktoriya and clapped her hands. “Mathkzym hath a potty-mouth!”

Dalila and Ayana sang the new song. “Potty-mouth, potty-mouth, Maksym has a potty-mouth.”

“Oh.” Borysko stole Yaryna’s doll. “Can I have a potty-mouth when I grow up?”

Viktoriya grabbed the doll and gave it back to Yaryna before she could get upset. “I think so. Everyone else does.”

“It’s not fair! I want a potty-mouth right now!” Borysko flopped over and his head was in her lap. “Tell me a story.” 

Yaryna sat her doll on his face and made it clap hands. “Potty-mouth!”

“Once there was a nice, old woman. She liked lambs. They liked her, too.” Viktoriya thought for a few moments. “One cold winter night, she looked out of the barn. She saw some lambs, all alone in the dark. She felt sorry for them because there were orcs and trolls under the bridges. Orcs and trolls stole lambs when they could and ate them up. Sometimes they sold them to pervs. The nice old woman waved her wand. The magic tractor started up with a roar like lions. It zoomed into the dark night, but it wasn’t afraid. It knew the way. It always knew the way.”

Stifling shrieks, she broke a path through the thin ice. Behind her, Myroslava squealed, groaned, and muttered curses. After scrambling up the far bank, Marynia didn’t bother trying to clean off the mud. She put her socks and boots back on as fast as possible, teeth chattering. Then she did jumping-jacks.

Myroslava waded out with gritted teeth. “Wow. Those people who jump into frozen lakes and barrels of ice cubes, well, there’s just something very wrong with them.”

“Absolutely.” Marynia stomped her tingling feet in the cold boots. “I’m surprised we’re scouting together again so soon and in this direction.” Since the ambush, she had mostly been assigned guard duty. It was hard on the others, and she resented it. She couldn’t afford to be coddled. She never had been.

“I think we need the exercise, like horses. We both get crabby sitting around camp.” Myroslava looked up from her socks and rolled her eyes.

“I didn’t know you did.”

“When I get quiet, it’s because I’m not allowed to say what I’m thinking.”

“You should just say it. It would probably do everyone a lot of good.”

“Angel wings will turn into bat wings. Ears will burst into flames and fall off.” Myroslava jumped up and down, pulling her knees up to her chest. She stomped a few times. “Whew. Ready?”

“Ready.” She followed Myroslava into the cold, dark night. After two hours, she reached the first of the semi-inhabited neighborhoods and headed to the north while her partner took the south. The goodies gifted by Bohdana and Dmytro would keep them going for a while, so they were mostly looking for clothes, new camping gear to replace lost or broken stuff, and especially thermal blankets which came in handy for all sorts of things.

So far, most of the houses looked to be in fairly good shape, damaged but not wrecked. The first house on the next block was interesting; she stopped and studied it. It was a modern house, well cared for. The back wall was partially blown off and the exposed rooms were the large, well-appointed kitchen and laundry areas. She examined the surrounding houses. After listening to the stillness for a few minutes, she crept along the fence and entered the kitchen. It was a mess, but it hadn’t burned. The front of the house had taken the brunt of the destruction. In between the kitchen and laundry, there was a door. Marynia tried it. At first she thought it was locked, but it was just stuck. She shoved it open and stepped into a large pantry. It was a knee-deep pile but worth picking through. She moved on to the laundry area. There had been a flood at some point, but water was no longer flowing. She opened a door. A garage. It was trashed and in an obviously dangerous condition. She tried the next door. A storage area. Cabinets lined the walls. Sporting. Camping. Outdoor gear of all kinds. All high quality, perfect, orderly. But there was no guarantee it would still be here when the foragers came; that had happened before. She would cache what was needed before moving on; she got busy. When she was finished, she trotted along the wood to try to make up the time, but she was late to the rendezvous.

Myroslava was up a tree, waiting. She climbed down. “What took so long?”

“I found some great gear and made a stash, and then I found five other targets.”

“You weren’t supposed to go in alone. Note the location and move along.”

“I know. But I was sure that no one was there. The house was blown wide open, so it was harmless.” Marynia shrugged.

“Reckless. From what you said, you hadn’t even cleared the area yet, and these are not abandoned neighborhoods. I know you’ve got a load of heavy crap going on, but the rest of us have lives, too. You’re being careless with them, especially with Sofiyko’s and Lyaksandro’s. If you’d rather just stay on guard duty, let me know.” Myroslava’s voice was matter-of-fact. “We all have to be able to trust each other.”

Marynia leaned against a tree and closed her eyes, struggling to put out the raging inferno within. How dare Myroslava make such an accusation? She wanted to slap the girl. She fought for control. “Are you saying what happened to me was my fault?”

“Never in a million years. What I’m saying is that scouting is ridiculously dangerous, period. Our lives, everyone’s lives, depend on our partners doing what’s expected. That’s all.”

Had she been reckless, careless with others’ lives? Trying to get the stuff they needed to survive didn’t seem reckless or careless. Marynia thought of Lyaksandro’s little upturned nose and big, green eyes. Sofiyko’s goodness and grace. Grygoriy carrying his foraging partner for kilometers through the frozen night. Defenseless, unarmed, because he needed both for her. There was no way Myroslava could carry her for more than a few feet. That was all she was saying. Marynia couldn’t steal anything for anyone if she were dead or disappeared. “I won’t do it again.”

“Thanks. Ready?”

“Ready. My lead?”

“Your lead.”

Dalila and Ayana screamed and hid their faces, terrified. Of crocodiles. Appalled by the racket, Maksym and Antin hastily hustled the struggling, shrieking children across the rickety bridge over the semi-frozen, gurgling water. Grygoriy and Mykola swiftly pulled up gaiters to mask their laughter while Zlata scolded them for their lack of sympathy.

Marynia wanted to meet Uncle Reth—the one who had told little children lurid croc tales—and give him a good talking to. She trotted into a field on the north side of a stand of trees leading west. After a few kilometers, she turned north and plodded along the muddy farm track, listening to the chatter of the kids. About crocodiles, of course. The tales were getting taller and taller. Crocs were now the size of aircraft carriers.

Veronika jogged back from the front. “Bilyal, do you need to rest?”

“I’m not tired yet. Grygoriy helps me when it’s really slippery.”

“You’re doing great, but don’t overdo it.” Veronika smiled at him and then looked at Grygoriy. “Need help?”

He adjusted the waist strap of Viktoriya’s kidpack. “We’re good. How’s everything up front?”

“Fine. Better get back.” She and her huge backpack vanished into the early evening.

Marynia wished she was good or fine. Even though the pace was a slow plod with the little ones walking, she was miserable. The backpack felt like a small mountain. She followed Grygoriy into a new field. The hedgerow on the left led to the northwest. Now and then, she caught a glimpse of faint lights in small villages past the fields on the other side. This rectangle of frosty dirt seemed to go on forever. She sighed. Things that used to smell good were nauseating now; she had to skip some meals. She couldn’t stand the smell of the soap. And the toothpaste. Ick. She should stop thinking about it. It was making her clammy.

The light of the moon behind the wavy clouds made the sky look like an upside-down ocean. It was a beautiful night. Noisy, though.

Zlata bent over her. “It’s all right, Borysko. Yaryna, she’ll be all right. She fainted. Look, she’s better already.”

Borysko was wailing, out of sight. Yaryna was in her kidpack on Zlata’s front, crying, trying to reach Marynia with her little arms.

His eyes huge, Lyaksandro knelt on Marynia’s right, gripping her gloved hand with his blue mittens. Sofiyko was just behind, chin trembling, tears spilling from her eyes.

“I’m sorry, my loves.” Her voice croaked. She cleared it. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve been feeling a little tired and I’ve never fainted before. I didn’t know I was going to or I would have said something.”

The field was full of loud birds, far and near.

“Can you stand?”

“I think so.”

Zlata helped her up.

Marynia leaned against the tree and closed her eyes. “My legs feel like rubber bands.”

“Veronika, get her pack off, please. I’m going to find—Never mind, here she is.”

Myroslava said, “Everyone present and accounted for? Maksym, Oleksiy, and Antin will be here in a few minutes. Everyone into the wood.” She made an exasperated noise. “Damn, we need one of those tall people. It’s too dangerous for Grygoriy when he’s got Viktoriya, too. Zlata, it will have to be you.”

“All right,” said Zlata. “Nadiya, can you carry Yaryna for a little while? Thanks. Marynia, put your arm around my shoulders.”

Marynia managed to open her eyes. She leaned on Zlata and felt an arm tighten around her waist. The ground slid away and the sky tilted. Her right arm swung out as if it belonged to someone else and hit a tree. “Ow.”

“Got you.” Myroslava grabbed her on the right. “You almost decked me. Let us know when you’re ready.”

After a few moments, things settled down. Marynia nodded. “All right.”

“You set the pace.”

Step. Step. Step. Pause. Step. Step. Miserable minutes took hours.

Myroslava said, “This is far enough in. Sit down here against this tree.”

She sank to the ground. She felt so sick. Sofiyko and Lyaksandro were next to her. She heard them whispering to each other. Marynia wanted to hug them, but her arms were too tired. Quiet voices droned.

“We can’t stay here. Antin and I will scout a new campsite, as fast as we can. See you soon.”

“Anemic before and now very anemic. And dehydrated. She needs vitamins or more meat. If you see a little iron skillet, grab it. It might help.”

“Then she fell down. I was scared. I thought the monsters shot her. She said she was tired. I get tired, too. Then I fall. Then someone carries me.”

“We have plenty of filters and sterilizer, so even if we don’t get more snow, drinking water won’t be a problem. There’ll be a kit in every pack.”

“Perfect spot, Antin’s guarding.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Of course I can. All day if I had to, but I don’t. It’s not far, then I’ll be back for the packs and gear.”

Owls. What did they say?

Silence. Peace.

Marynia felt herself being lifted up. Her eyes opened wide. “No! Put me down! No!” She managed to free an arm and struck out. Her elbow hit something. Where were Lyaksandro and Sofiyko? They were just here.

“Ouch, crap! Carrying you,” said someone. “Ow, shit, could you stop. You’re going to knock me out. No, don’t stick your fingernails in my eye!”

She was falling. She slid down over a shoulder. It was Oleksiy. He had one knee down to the ground and now she was sitting on his other knee. She stopped trying to kill him, barely. “I can walk!” She stood up and landed on the ground instead. “Shit.” She propped herself up on an elbow. It was freaking annoying being so weak. She was almost as mad at herself as she was at him.

He felt his eye. “Still there. Sorry, I didn’t know you were awake or I would have said something. You can’t walk very well right now, and leave my eyeballs alone. It’s easier to carry you but if you say no, then no it is. We’ll make a stretcher. It’s too bad we just ditched the other one but that’s life. Would you rather do a piggy-back? Less chance for me to bash your head into a tree that way.”

Antin’s voice came from the dark. “Everything all right?”

Marynia snorted impatiently, struggled to sit up, and pressed her eyes. “Yes, just need a minute.” Clueless dorks. But it wasn’t their fault. No matter how much it reminded her of things she didn’t want to remember, she should be carried. Stop being such a problem. She’d already messed up almost an entire day’s planning, maybe more. “Let’s try a piggy-back.”

Oleksiy helped her stand and scrunched down.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him. She didn’t know how long she could hold on, but it was better than being carried the other way or tied to a stretcher. She could get away and defend herself. It wasn’t far to the camp even though every wretched moment stretched out, especially the last ones. Oleksiy headed straight for the tent and set her down at the door. “Thanks.” She ducked inside and crawled into a sleeping bag, muddy boots and all.

She woke up thirsty and joined Zlata by the fire. “How far behind are we?”

“I’d say about one-third. Not good, but not bad either.” Zlata shrugged.

“I hate that I slowed us down. It’s ridiculous to faint.” Marynia rolled her eyes.

Zlata laughed. “There are a lot of ridiculous people in the world, then. Welcome to the Silly Fainters Club. Now that you know the signs, it might not happen again. Pay attention to your breathing. Bend over and rest with your hands on your knees like Antin does. Or sit and put your head down. Some people have to lie down. Most recover soon, but if it’s caused by iron deficiency or similar, it will happen again. You’ll have to take it easy until you can get it sorted out.”

Marynia crossed her arms over her chest.

“You know you can talk to me.”

“I know. I’m not ready.”

“All right.” Zlata sighed. “Let’s get you fed and then back to sleep. We can change the schedule.”

“I’ll try to sleep. Thanks.” After nibbling some food to be polite and finishing off the water, Marynia crawled back into the tent and stared at the ceiling. Time crept along as fleeting glimpses of thoughts raced by. Sleeping in was vastly overrated. She was on the second forager shift, and everything was going to be much farther away than planned since they hadn’t made it to the new camp. She may as well get up and get ready. After taking care of the many chores, she joined Oleksiy and Antin by the fire.

“All that’s left are the three small farms. It’s a good hike, so you’d better get going.” Antin finished drawing the map in the dirt. “Are you sure you’re up for it, Marynia? I can do a double shift.”

“I feel better, I’m familiar with farm animals, and I can’t sleep anyway. But thanks for the offer.”

“We’re supposed to help ourselves to any livestock that’s wandering around?” Oleksiy scratched his head. “I’m not sure how that’s supposed to work.”

Antin gave him a blank stare. “Why are you looking at me?” He pointed at Marynia.

“Right.” Oleksiy saluted her. “Your lead, boss. Ready?”

“Let’s go.” After a few, tedious hours spent creeping through dark woods, she entered the first of the isolated farms and studied the buildings. She opened the door of the barn and stuck her head in. No signs or sounds of life. The door to the chicken coop was wide open. While Oleksiy guarded, she entered the house and quickly rummaged through the kitchen, gathering what looked safely edible. A glance into the main room confirmed that there was no reason to look for little garments; there were no signs of children. She checked the cellar. At some point it had been converted into a hobby room with a loom, embroidery frames, bins and shelves full of yarn and fabric, and works-in-progress scattered about. She ran a finger over an embroidered ribbon. It was beautiful. It must have been a terrible wrench for the owner to leave it all behind. She sighed; she shouldn’t be wasting her cellphone battery on beauty. After collecting packages of needles, pins, and safety pins, she located a small roll of absorbent fabric, one of waterproof fabric, found the seam tape, chose spools of sturdy thread, and grabbed a few cans of waterproofing spray. Carefully closing the door, she chirped for Oleksiy to take the lead as she trotted up the stairs to the yard.

At the second farm, Oleksiy poked his head into a barn, recoiled, and waved his hand in front of his nose. “Let’s skip that. I’ll check the house.” He soon returned. “Not bad. Not good either.” He adjusted the straps of his bumpy, bulging backpack. “Next.”

She led the way to the last target, the one closest to the road, and surveyed it cautiously. The house was completely destroyed; there was no sense in attempting to find anything usable there. The south facing barn had solar panels. Hmm. Amazing they hadn’t been stolen. She tapped on the door of the large coop abutting the main building and heard a small commotion inside. “Someone’s been taking care of them. They couldn’t be alive otherwise. I’ll check it out.” She unlocked the door and stepped in. It was cold but not freezing, dim lights came on automatically, and it smelled awful. There was a dead chicken in a corner. Ugh. She looked around and grabbed a bag from a hook. Speaking softly and reassuringly, she slowly approached the hens. They weren’t having anything to do with that. When she did manage to get close to a chicken, it invariably attacked her. She was able to stuff one into the bag before the stench was too much. She puked in the corner opposite the carcass, ran out, and handed the bag to Oleksiy. “Better luck to you.”

She pulled out her water bottle, washed the scratches on her face, and rinsed her mouth. After another glance around, she walked over to a small barn and tapped on the door. It sounded like the abode of goats. This door was locked from the outside, too, so there were probably no surprises lurking. She opened the hatch and looked in. Again, the odor was overwhelming. The poor goats must be suffocating. She slid the big door open and let them out. The animals were thin but frisky; after racing around the yard a few times, they calmed enough where she could catch one and fasten a rope. She led the reluctant animal across the yard just as Oleksiy emerged from the coop, carrying a squirming, clucking bag. The predawn light fell upon the bruise forming around one swollen eye and the fading colors around the other.

Served him right. Marynia wasn’t about to apologize for defending herself. “How did you manage to catch the chickens?”

“They didn’t seem to mind too much. Maybe you tired them out.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t sure how many to take. I don’t know anything about chickens. Grandpa tried to teach me, but I wasn’t paying attention. I’m glad you and Zlata know what to do.”

“It’s pretty gross, but the school I went to had its own kitchen gardens and some livestock. I know how to milk goats and cows, but I’ve never butchered one.” She looked around. It would be full light soon; all the stars had faded away. The days were getting longer. “We should go. The caretaker might show up any minute.”

“I left some money on the bench in the coop.”

“That was nice, but unless you close that door, the goats will eat it.” She nodded her head toward the curious goat peering through the opening at the hens.

“Really.”

“Really. Shut the door and open the hatch. I’m pretty sure whoever is taking care of the animals is not the original owner. Someone is just profiting off abandoned stock, doing way less than the minimum. It won’t be long before they all start dying.” She sighed as she walked slowly to the back gate, gave up, and hoisted the goat over her shoulders. It would take years to get back to camp otherwise. It was initially unhappy about the situation, struggling and kicking, but then seemed to change its mind about its new vantage point. It nibbled on her hat, decided it was tasty, and yanked it off her head. Fine. Marynia stuck to the shadows of the trees as much as possible. She wasn’t as alert as she should be. Thoughts wandered around. Circling and circling, like water going down the drain. She sighed. She should talk to Veronika and Zlata.

Gunfire. Close. She hit the ground. The goat protested.

Oleksiy crouched nearby. “Crap. I thought they cleared this area. It’s on the road.”

“Things change. Let’s go check it out.” She grabbed her cell phone from her jacket pocket. It still had enough charge. She tied the goat to a sturdy tree.

“Not our mission. Leave it to the scouts.”

She ignored him and crouched through the brush.

Cursing softly, Oleksiy followed, making his usual racket plus chickens. He eventually seemed to realize that he shouldn’t try to sneak up on zwastikas with a bag of alarmed fowls.

The clucking faded into the distance as she ran. Toward the edge of the wood, she belly-crawled, peeked over a fallen log, and started recording the scene on the road. Far to her left in the early light, zwastikas surrounded three bullet-riddled cars. They dragged bodies out and threw them in the road. They searched trunks and opened engine compartments. Wailing survivors were shoved across the street; they disappeared into the wood. Suddenly, the zwastikas raced across and flung themselves into an invisible trench overhung by bramble. More cars appeared in the distance, coming around a curve. Marynia zoomed in. There were white flags. The word children was spelled out on the cars. Oh shit. Oh no. Please no. No, no, no, please.

The tank hidden in the wood opened fire. The first car exploded. The second car. The other cars were trying to turn around. The third car exploded. The fourth. Others managed to make it back around the corner.

Marynia gagged. She put the phone away, rested her head on her arms, and concentrated hard on not being sick.

Oleksiy tapped her on the shoulder and twitched his head. Time to go.

She took a deep breath and crawled backward until it was safe to crouch. She followed him to where he had left the bag of chickens and retrieved the goat which was still happily chewing her hat. When she reached the hedgerow angling to the northeast, she scrambled into it and sat with her head on her knees, shaking, clammy, sick. She heard Oleksiy trying to join her, the birds complaining about the mistreatment.

He sat next to her, not saying anything for a while. “Marynia, are you pregnant?”

She didn’t raise her head. “It’s none of your business. Why do you want to know?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not the only person under this bush who thinks you might be.” Oleksiy cleared his throat. “It affects everyone. Anything that happens to any of us does. I know nothing about being pregnant, and if you are, I should. We all should, you know, like don’t toss kids with head injuries over our shoulders and swing them around. If poor Viktoriya hadn’t been so sick, she probably would’ve punched me.”

He was right. It wasn’t just her private business, couldn’t be just about her. She groaned and rubbed her head. “I don’t know. I’m afraid that I am. It’s scaring the shit out of me. I hate it, hate the thought of it, hate my body. If I can’t get an abortion, what will I do?”

“Marry me.”

Marynia slammed back against the bush. Twigs shattered and fell. No, he wasn’t right! “Are you fucking insane! Get away from me! Don’t touch me!” She grabbed for her rifle.

He leaned away. “Are you going to shoot me or just whack me upside the head with that? I would never touch you, not now, not ten thousand years from now if you ever finally notice me, never unless you say so. I love you. I know people say these things don’t last when it happens young, but I think it will for me.”

She managed not to shoot him. “I don’t care! Leave me alone! Get away from me! What the hell is wrong with you, you stupid shithead!”

He nodded. “It’s selfish to tell you, but I’m tired of pretending, tired of deceiving. I’d rather just be myself. But I won’t bother you about it ever again. And I wanted you to know because Zlata, Maksym, and Grygoriy know. I didn’t tell them. They just knew and all three have threatened my life about it. Zlata knows a lot of anatomy and she was very specific about what she’s going to do to me if I mess up.” He looked horrified. “I was shocked. She seemed like such a nice person. Maksym kindly scared the shit out of me. Grygoriy just said he would kill me, but he wasn’t sure of the exact date of the execution. But, back to you. So, the maybe-baby’s father is a kid-raping, ass-licking, slimeball, zwastika bastard.”

She stared at him, confused. Thoughts began and then drifted away. “I don’t want it. I hate it. I could never love it.”

“But I could. Because you’re Marynia, and that makes all the difference in the world. In the galaxy. Universe. Forever. But it’s not about me. It’s about you, what you need, what you want. Whatever that is, I want to help. We all want to help.”

She put her head back down on her knees, started sobbing, and couldn’t stop. After a long time, she sat up.

Oleksiy was crying slow, quiet tears. He wiped his eyes with the back of his gloves.

Marynia wiped her face. The cool handkerchief felt good on her hot eyes. “We’d better go. The others will be worrying.”

He nodded, squirmed out of the bushes, and grabbed up the bag, setting off a muffled, clucking fuss.

She stuffed the remains of the hat into her pocket, managed to pry the foraging goat off the bare bushes and dead weeds, and got it over her shoulders. It nibbled her hair. She gave it back its hat. She was so, so tired. Her breasts hurt. They were growing really fast. Sick a lot. Like Mom had been with Lyaksandro. She remembered Dad explaining why he was doing most of the cooking. She was seven that year, a big girl, old enough to help with Sofiyko. Then he died, and it was just Mom, Marynia, baby Sofiyko, and the new baby. Then it was just Marynia, Sofiyko, and Lyaksandro.

She was only thirteen. It had seemed old on her birthday, on the Old New Year. Grandma had let her have a little sparkling wine. She hadn’t liked it, but it was special sitting up late with Grandma, talking about things. Almost grown-up. She set a faster pace, trying to outrace her thoughts. Finally reaching the thick strip of trees on the far side of a little village, she tied the goat to one. It seemed content to stay there with the hat for now.

“You’re leaving the goat here?” Oleksiy looked confused.

Must he be so clueless? She rubbed her temples and sighed. He was a city boy. “Unless you want to travel to Zaporizhzhia with a bag of Yaryna’s pet chickens and Borysko’s pet goat, the animals should stay out of camp. Chickens don’t care for each other’s close company quite that much and can be very aggressive. The dead one in the coop didn’t die of old age. They’re going into the pot anyway, but it’s not right to make them suffer in the meanwhile.” She pointed at the mangled hat. “It won’t be long before the goat loses interest in that and chews through the rope. If it doesn’t eat the rope, that is. It’s very, very hungry.”

“Oh. We’ll get on it right away.”

She was going to leave her backpack, too. She didn’t give a shit if the goat ate it. Just getting to the camp with her rifle and pounding headache was all she could do, if that. Staggering in, she handed over the weapon to Veronika, crawled into the shelter, and used the last of her energy to collapse in the back.

The sun was well up when she ducked out from the low opening and stretched. Another day.

Zlata noticed her and moved the iron skillet onto the fire. There were a few chicken feathers in the fuzzy trim of her hood.

Marynia had never cared for goat, mutton, or lamb, but her body thought otherwise. She had never been so hungry. By the time Zlata was finished tossing in the chopped vegetables and spices, she was ready to tackle her. Did things really have to be cooked, anyway?

“I’m not edible.” Zlata smiled at her. “It’ll be done in a few minutes.”

“How did you know? Can you hear my stomach?”

“Grygoriy and Oleksiy are still in the starving young wolf stage. They look exactly the same, like they’re going to pounce on me and start chewing on my ankle.”

“I bet Borysko was drooling, too. I’ve never seen a little kid eat so much.”

Zlata rolled her eyes. “At first, I thought he was hoarding, hiding it somewhere. He’s going to be an awesome chowhound when he’s a teenager.”

“Sorry I had to duck out on you.”

“No need to apologize, and it turns out that Veronika and Mykola know how to butcher, thanks to dearest Great-Auntie. They just didn’t want to admit it. Maksym and Antin got them set up with the right woods for the fire, grill, spits, and skewers so everything should be edible. It really was amazing how quickly the four of them got everything ready and done, even though poor Veronika kept having to run off and be sick. I mostly stood around, getting in the way, but I learned a lot. Oleksiy and Grygoriy volunteered to assist with the cooking.” She grinned. “I can’t whack their fingers with a wooden spoon from here. We’ll see how much actually gets into a backpack.” The food was finally done. “Chew everything well.” Zlata put the skillet in front of her and handed her a fork.

“You’re going to sit there and make sure I do, aren’t you?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. I’m really interested to see if this little iron experiment works.” She shrugged. “I was tempted to put some liver in there, but I think I remember reading that it needs to be from young, healthy animals. We found a jar of children’s multi-vitamins, but you can’t get the iron you need from them without overdosing on all the rest.”

Marynia ate for a long time. “Sleeping in didn’t seem to help much.”

“Sleeping in doesn’t mean five minutes. I don’t think the chopped-up sleep schedule is helping you right now. You need a bigger block. I’ll have to have another talk with Myroslava about it.”

“After my latest reckless adventure, I’m pretty sure I’m in time-out again.” She was surprised by the bitterness she felt. Did she really care that much? Yes. “I can’t seem to get the hang of not doing more than the minimum.”

Zlata made an astonished face. “I strongly disagree that you or any of us have ever been doing the minimum. You’re just used to making your own decisions, being in charge, and your health is an issue. Myroslava is convinced that you’re increasingly impulsive, disregarding training. I think that’s a direct effect of your nutritional problems. Maksym has no idea why we’re arguing about it because any of those is reason to be off the roster, and after we both glared at him, he kindly took himself off so we were able to discuss things properly. You need to keep busy, so do I, but you’re going to have to do it around camp for a while. We’ll experiment with your diet and schedule to see what works for you, so pay attention to yourself for a change.”

Marynia sighed and looked around. “I suppose now is a good time to talk.”

“Yes.”

“What if I want an abortion?”

“Then you want an abortion. It’s your decision.”

“No, I mean, what if I can’t get one?” She flung her hands out. “There are hardly any hospitals or clinics here and I’m thirteen. What if it’s too late? What if they won’t let me?”

“It would have to be very late in your case, a case of rape. Your well-being is paramount, especially because you’re thirteen. However, some people would counsel you to place the child for adoption because abortion isn’t easy. It causes its own problems. But so does adoption. That’s a big mistake people make, thinking adoption is some sort of magic bullet. It’s not.” Zlata sighed and propped her head on her fist. “Pregnancy itself is difficult, physically and emotionally. There are no simple answers.”

“You know a lot about this.”

“A friend of mine from school. She’s boy-crazy, always in love with some guy.” She shrugged. “And a very nice person. She asked me to help her read through everything.”

Marynia pressed her eyes, pushing the tears back. She missed Grandma so much.

“It’s very early for you to have any symptoms of pregnancy.” Zlata reached over and hugged her shoulder. “Try not to worry so much.”

“Are you saying it’s all in my head?” Marynia leaned away.

“Absolutely not, but even if it is, that’s fine with me.” Zlata smiled. “All your symptoms can have other causes, but what I really meant is that there are things you can control and things you can’t, and now is a good time to focus on the things you can. Easy for me to say, I know. I sound like an internet meme.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’m so full of hate, it’s hard for me to even be around anyone. It wears me out.”

“I am, too, but I really have no idea what you’re going through.” Zlata shook her head. “I don’t. I can’t know. A whole new level of blazing hatred I haven’t experienced.” She rubbed her eyes and looked off into space for a few moments. “You’re very good at not letting it spill over where it doesn’t belong, maybe too good.” She took Marynia’s hand. “I know how hard it is when there’s no privacy. We’ll designate one of the tents a crabby corner, and being nice or cheerful there is strictly forbidden.” She stared at the fire for a minute. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that nothing you feel is incorrect and don’t worry about what anyone else thinks or says about it.”

Marynia’s thoughts zipped around and escaped. She rubbed her temples, sighed, and fished another aspirin from her pocket. “I guess that’s it. I don’t have anything more to say right now, except I think a crabby corner is a good idea. Thanks.”

“Thanks for talking to me. Go back to sleep if you need to, and don’t worry about Sofiyko, Lyaksandro, or your chores. Veronika and Nadiya have got you covered.” Zlata kissed her cheek, gathered up the cookware, and left Marynia to her private, interior crabby corner.

The tiny fire danced and sparked in the soft breeze. She watched it for a long time.

The crabby corner accumulated a pile of weird-looking toys as Marynia and Mykola whittled and vented about everyone else. He had a backlog of surprisingly colorful rants saved up, and she enjoyed each one. She sat up and stretched her shoulders. It was time for more sit-ups, push-ups, and running-in-place. Zlata was tracking how fast she tired and recovered, and she was right. Focusing on what could be changed and controlled was helping.

Oleksiy was on guard.

Marynia huffed in exasperation. She’d been avoiding him, the stupidhead. That needed to change. Now was a good time. After navigating the bushes, she sat down and leaned back against a tree. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“It doesn’t seem to me like I need them, so I forget.” Oleksiy took them off, looked around, shrugged, and put them back on.

“How many times have you been in love?”

“Never before.”

“How do you know that you are?”

He made a face. “I’m not good with words. I don’t know how to explain it. A rightness, I guess. Clear. Certain. A lot more than that, but I don’t know how to say it. I thought it would go away after Grygoriy told me how young you are and said he would kill me. But it didn’t.”

“Even though you know I don’t feel the same about you?”

Oleksiy rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “It’s not like that. Or I’m not like that. I want you to be happy. If I make you unhappy, I’d much rather not, because that hurts, because I want you to be happy. If you say you have to marry some guy because that’s the only way you’ll ever be happy, I’ll club him over the head and drag him to the altar for you. I won’t like it, but that’s what has to be done. I don’t know if that makes any sense, but there you have it.”

That didn’t sound much like the books or movies. Wasn’t he supposed to club the other guy over the head and drag him away from the altar? It didn’t matter. Marynia thought it was all silly anyway, like falling in love with a stranger in the first place. It was kind of rude. The guy could at least introduce himself first, say hello or something. “You’ve never been in love before?”

“No. But I like girls. I always have.” He smiled.

“What do you mean, you like girls?”

“I mean I’m still mad at Mykhailo because I wanted a sister. I’m trying to forgive him, poor kid, but he’s not making it easy. We’re like oil and water, but that’s not his fault, either. He likes you much more than me. Would you be interested in swapping Sofiyko for him?”

“No.”

“Darn. Mykhailo always smells like he needs to have his socks surgically removed. I think God made Adam first and said: Shit! I screwed up. And he’s stinky, too. Better try again. Then he made Eve and said: That’s better.”

Marynia laughed. It felt strange, like her face wasn’t quite sure of what to do. “Most boys don’t share your opinions.”

“Maybe they don’t have little brothers or their dads didn’t sign them up for every sports team in town.” He made a long-suffering face and looked just like Lyaksandro when he had to eat Brussels sprouts.

“Why do you think it won’t go away?”

“Well, when it happened I was digging a grave with my dead grandpa beside me. If it could happen at all right then, it’s probably pretty serious.” He flung out a hand. “I mean, who does that? I was a little worried about myself for a few days, but I gave it up.”

“How do I know you mean what you say?”

“Marynia, I don’t know. No one has ever said they can’t trust me. But I’m only fifteen. Maybe I’ll fall out of love. I don’t have anything against that. Like I said, I was hoping I would. I was … what? Let’s just say I wasn’t thrilled. It’s been really … uncomfortable. I’m getting used to it.” He made an exasperated face. “But I don’t know yet if it will go away because it’s never happened to me before. Maybe I’ll grow up and be one of those guys with a lot of girlfriends, wives, and divorces. That sounds kind of fun. But I don’t think so. I don’t think I’m that type.” He wrinkled his nose. “My parents were childhood sweethearts. It always made me queasy listening to them go on and on about it. They would read their icky old love notes to each other. Both kept them all.” He shuddered. “And here I am. I’ve already written you five. Life’s like that, I guess.”

“You did not.”

He pulled out his phone. “Of course I did. Runs in the family. The first was—”

“No, no, stop.” She held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear about that. Thanks. What do you want to do when you grow up?”

“I’m not sure. Nothing really stands out right now. I’d probably be a good fireman or EMT, but I’m drawn to the church. Kind of horrified my dad, I think, even though he was religious. I wanted to do more there, but I didn’t have time with all the sports and school stuff. Maybe I can do both. What do you think I should do?” Oleksiy glanced at her and then went back to studying the surrounding wood.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know you that well. Why are you interested in the church?”

His brow wrinkled. “Because I feel … content there? Peaceful? That’s probably not right, either. I’ve never really thought about it. It helps me and I always look forward to it.”

“I understand. I’m sorry for all the questions. Well, not really.” She tapped on a log with a stick, trying to sort things out, why she wanted to talk to him. She was more alert than yesterday, but her brain was still a mud hole. Spinning wheels, flying muck. “I don’t really know any boys except Lyaksandro. I never paid much attention to them. Since I was nine, I’ve gone to an all-girls school for orphans. Our parents weren’t all dead, they just didn’t want us. My grandma volunteered there a lot. The other girls were all boarders, but the sisters let us be day students. I liked being in a small school with girls who had the same problems. So did Sofiyko. It was easier. It was bombed the same night as the hospital. The nurse said everyone lived but they had to leave. They were gone. It hurt a lot at first, but I know they didn’t want to leave us. They had to. I don’t know where my friends and teachers are now.” She rubbed her eyes and stook a deep breath. It was so hard not to feel abandoned again. Left behind. Unimportant. “I’ve got Sofiyko and Lyaksandro, I’m thirteen, and I might be pregnant. I need friends. People I can trust. The more, the better. I want to trust you. I don’t want to have to avoid you or be afraid of you.”

“God, I would hate that. You never have to avoid me or be afraid of me. You’ve got a friend. And Zlata, Maksym, and Grygoriy, too, since they all insist on offing me if you frown in my general direction. I’m still furious at Maksym for not letting me run off and kill the rapist scum.” Oleksiy sighed and scratched his scruffy beard. “That doesn’t sound like something I should say in youth group. How about: Holy Father, lead me to the path of righteous vengeance and strengthen my arm to smite the evil one with your flaming sword of justice. Or if that’s too much to ask, would you pour some boiling oil on him for me. Amen.” He looked thoughtful and then nodded. “That’s better.”

“Half the sisters would have to pretend to be horrified and then have to pray about that. How did Maksym stop you?”

Oleksiy made a sulky face. “He said the gang would have to leave because I would make the orcs mad by not killing all of them, and then I’d never find you again because I suck, can barely find my way out of a tent. I might never see my brother again, either. That was tempting but I kind of like Mykhailo now.” He raised an indignant eyebrow at her. “It’s a good thing since you so selfishly refuse to take him off my hands.”

“Grygoriy and I practice raising just one eyebrow. We call it The Oleksiy. Neither of us can do it, so it’s pretty funny.”

“Really. I didn’t even know I was doing it. What the hell! I can’t raise my right eyebrow, only the left!” His left brow shot up and down. “Maybe righty just needs a little help, show it what to do.” He pushed his eyebrow up and down and eventually wound up with his left arm wrapped around his head, pulling righty up from behind. “Why didn’t anyone tell me my eyebrow was out of order? I feel like such a dweeb.”

Shaking her head at his antics, she laughed and then gazed back at the quiet camp. The little ones were sleeping in after the night march. “I didn’t used to think you had a sense of humor.” 

“It’s good to be myself again. I’ve been trying to be a superhero and whoever your favorite movie star is, and it’s not working out. And I’m not trying to, uh … I don’t know, not being funny because I don’t care. I do care. A lot. But words are words. You can’t know I mean what I say. It’s what people do that show you who they are. So, let me know what I can do. Or not do. Whatever that is.”

Marynia looked up. Oleksiy was watching her, sad. He was supposed to be guarding. She should go. “Thanks. It means a lot.” She stood up cautiously. “I’ll see you later.”

The orcs with the blue bands loaded Ukrainians onto buses. Men were kept back. The vehicles slowly drove off, gathering speed as children waved and called goodbyes out the windows. The orcs talked to the men. Heads shook. A younger man started yelling and gesticulating. A zwastika shot him in the leg. Several men tried to run and were cut down. The rest were beaten to their knees, and their hands were secured behind their backs. Two orcs were farther away, talking. The tall one with the beard shook his head. The other, a small man with pale skin, walked behind the row of kneeling civilians and shot each one in the head. One. Three. Five. Eight.

Other orcs dragged the bodies behind the building across the street. There were a few corpses left on the street when the tall orc interrupted and gestured to the southwest. They jogged away, removing the blue tape as they went. Vehicles marked with zwastikas pulled out onto the road. The tank moved into the open.

Antin kept recording.

A door opened and an old man with a cane hobbled into the street. He fell painfully to his knees by one of the bodies, gathered the young man into his arms, and rocked back and forth.

When the orcs were beyond the tank, it fired.

Antin flinched and then steadied the camera.

The old man didn’t care. He didn’t budge. The tank shot again and again. When the smoke from the destroyed structures cleared for a moment, he was lying on the ground in a pool of blood, still holding the younger one.

“Maksym.”

“What?”

“What am I going to do with this hate?”

“I don’t know. Maybe there’s someone out there who knows how to help really smart kids deal with this fucking shit.”

“Am I that different?”

“All I know is that you and Myroslava are very different from any other twelve-year-olds I’ve met, and you’re not covered in any of the camp counselor or scout leader manuals. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

Antin thought about it. “Just be yourself. That’s enough. Oh, and marry my sister when she grows up or she’s going to run my life forever.”

“She’s going to be awesome when she grows up, perfectly capable of running your life no matter how many people she’s married to.”

“Crap.” Antin closed his eyes and rested his head against the tree trunk. “How did they not know? The people? How could they not know? They’re in occupied territory. If only we had gotten here a little sooner.”

“They were betrayed. Someone they trusted told them what they wanted to hear, and they believed. And the buses are legitimate; they swiped them a few days ago. It’s a quick and dirty way to weed out the faithful majority, keep them from clogging up the detention centers, and it’s not the first time it’s happened.” Maksym sighed and lowered the scope. “The old fellow obviously suspected, and there’s probably a few more like him holed up here and there.” He put the caps back on the monocular and secured it in his vest. “We’d better get going.”

“That scope is awesome. It’s first on my list of gear I need.”

“It’s amazing. I love it.”

No further information was vouchsafed. Ah, well. Antin stashed the thermal blanket, climbed down, and began mentally editing the footage as he led the way back to camp.

There were three new people, adults, brought in by the guards after a quick pat-down. Antin listened to Priti’s tale of their journey—interrupted many times by Rustam—with wide-eyed interest: volunteering at the hospital, didn’t care about sides, just wanted to help, maybe saw a few things that shouldn’t be seen, colleagues missing, new people, increasing suspicion and hostility, whispered warnings, run, out the window.

Zlata was gently challenging and Maksym was doing a good job of impersonating an awed teenager in the presence of erudite university students.

Rustam was having increasing difficulty balancing his line of brainwashing doublespeak and misinformation with his need to ingratiate himself with the gang. He glanced around the fire, his eyes lingering on Nadiya again.

It was time. Past time.

Priti was explaining how they had been in the town, but the Ukrainian soldiers had refused to allow them on the buses.

“Those weren’t Ukrainian soldiers,” said Antin.

“Bullshit. We were there,” Rustam smiled with a superior yet kindly manner.

Antin smiled back cheerfully. This was going to be fun. “So was I. That’s why none of us are on those buses.” He pulled out his phone, loaded the video he had created incorporating the images from the monocular, and passed it to Priti. He pointed at the edge of the image. “Here in the wood. Zwastika rocket launcher and a tank. Watch.”

“I don’t believe any of that. It’s bullshit, more lies. We were there. Why are you doing this?” Rustam was obviously alarmed, abandoning manipulation of children to focus on his companions.

Priti was engrossed in the video.

Bako looked upset. “No one has helped us. From the start, we were ignored or shoved aside.”

“But Bako, don’t you know—Don’t you know that your countries, your governments—”

Rustam spoke nastily over Zlata. “Shut up stupid girl, we know. We know from our treatment that Ukrainians are a bunch of Nazis.” He reached for his backpack.

Zlata’s pistol was suddenly in her lap.

Maksym patted Nadiya’s shoulder, and she ran to the shelter.

Antin pulled his pistol and aimed. “Rustam, get your hands in the air.”

The stupid fuckhead’s hands shot into the air, Bako also raised his hands, and after a quick glance around, Priti’s eyes returned to the video.

“If you ever speak to Zlata like that again, I’ll kill you.” Antin grinned. As expected, Rustam had panicked and screwed up royally. No one, except Putler, could confuse Zlata with a Nazi. Time to divide and conquer. “You stupid assholes. Those fucking zwastika scum killed our parents, our grandparents, our families, our friends, our neighbors, even our pets, and you sit there on your fat, entitled butts at our fire, in our camp, eating our food, and sniveling about your hardships when your governments have refused to stand up and be counted among the civilized nations condemning the mass murders, the brutality of Little Augustus Putler and his filthy orcs. If you have any questions about your treatment, look no further than the fact that your people are refusing to acknowledge and correctly assign responsibility for the atrocities taking place in the friendly, beautiful country in which you are a guest. Did any of you have plans for when you got home to hold your governments accountable, hold protests, and organize aid?” He looked from Priti to Bako, and ignored Rustam’s attempts to interject. “I didn’t think so. So shut your big mouths and little brains and leave, and when you do, try to contemplate the fact that none of this has anything to do with NATO and everything to do with Little Augustus Putler. A simple sleight-of-hand, documented over and over again throughout history and written about in so many novels and screenplays: Create a distant enemy so the people don’t notice the enemy right next to them. Under the pretext of the nonexistent western threat, Little Augustus Putler brainwashed and enslaved an entire nation and murdered or otherwise destroyed anyone who stood in his way. Heartbreaking. A beautiful, wonderful people were returned to serfdom thanks to yet another megalomaniac petty dictator who slammed the door of freedom shut in their faces. Then there’s the additional bonus of resources like wheat and hydrocarbons with which to dominate other nations and reward minions: Oh, you’ve been the very epitome of mindless, subservient ass-lickers. You get to rape, pillage, and plunder and be my next slavering head of false state, until I get tired of you and replace you with my real friends. Occam’s razor, the solution to being afraid of NATO was to join it. But no, because the ethical road isn’t paved with gold bricks that reappear on the private driveways of buddies and doesn’t lead to empire. When the choice was dignity or money, indignity won, hands down: The world’s supporter and supplier of weapons to terrorists, dictators, and anyone else who feels the urge to violently oppress or suppress. The safe harbor of every criminal, thug, and hater. There aren’t any gold bricks to be had in belonging to any organization or alliance that objects to ripping out citizen’s tongues with reeducation centers and gulags, enforcing lobotomies of censorship, and mowing down friends and neighbors with machine guns and running them over with tanks because they have peaceful opinions or they’re blocking the way to the looting and pillaging.” He paused for effect. “And don’t get me started on the phony referendums where the only people allowed to vote are imported, rashist zombies augmenting the navel-gazing, xenophobic squatters of the previous regimes, and they didn’t matter anyway because the official result was already tallied long before.” He proceeded to tweak Rustam’s nose with an eminently reasonable manner. “And, no, it does not take two countries to start a war. That’s the same self-serving stupidity as saying it takes two humans for one to be raped. The only provocation required of the victim was to exist.”

Scumbag tried to regroup. Apparently, the only thing he could think of was to raise his voice to a swinish squeal. “You’re a brainless twerp, just spitting out whatever you’re told by your Nazi teachers, can’t even spell your own name yet. You don’t know anything except—”

“You can apologize to Zlata or I will kill you. I might kill you regardless because you’re an ass-licking, zwastika minion. There hasn’t been one true word out of your mouth, just a fountain of rashist vomit.”

From behind, Myroslava spoke up. “And then I’ll kill you, just to make sure. Don’t think we didn’t notice the way you’ve been looking at Nadiya and me. Pervert!”

Her timing was perfect. Slam that huge nail into the coffin. Antin smiled to himself.

Pervert glanced around at the ready guards on the perimeter; Grygoriy and Marynia were obviously very interested in whatever he was going to do next. “We’re leaving. Fuck you little shits.” He stood and reached for his backpack.

“Leave it.” Maksym drew his hunting knife and strolled around the fire.

 Antin circled the other direction, pistol firmly locked on its target.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Perv backed away from the pincer.

Priti and Bako stared at him.

“I’m not going.” Bako shook his head. “I want to help. It’s all a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t think there’s any misunderstanding. Myroslava is right.” Priti jabbed a finger at Perv. “You’ve been checking them out. Little girls. No, I’m not going anywhere with you, you prick.” She spat on the ground.

“Fuck you, slut.” Perv stomped off into the night and shot alarmed glances over his shoulder as Marynia stomped off with a raised rifle, just behind.

Antin shot his pistol into the air and smiled when Rustam the Perv put his ass in high gear.

“Bako, watch this.” Priti restarted the recording of the latest slaughter. “It’s …”

“What are you doing watching some video when there are weapons pointed at us?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. No one told me to get my hands in the air, I was getting sick and tired of listening to Rustam’s nonstop nonsense, and what Antin said about our governments and us is true. No need to wave any guns around about it. I hate to admit it, but I was planning on loafing around for the rest of the school year after I got home.” Priti frowned at Antin. “However, I strongly disagree that either of us have fat, entitled butts!”

“I apologize.”

Bako looked around. The guns were gone. “Oh. Right.” He lowered his hands.

Maksym applauded briefly. “Nice speech, young hothead. I thought I might get some sleep tonight.” He continued investigating Rustam’s backpack and tossed two cellphones to Antin.

“Thank you, thank you.” Antin bowed. “It’s astounding that there are so many Putler apologists and that they don’t realize everyone knows they sound just like the Nazi apologists. Truly pitiful.” He used his little multi-tool to crack the cases and yank the batteries from the phones. “Heads of religions, too. Pathetic.”

“Couldn’t it have waited until morning?” Maksym pulled a communicator from a hidden pocket. “Satellite.” He tossed it over.

Antin examined the device and stuffed it in his pocket. “Not if you wanted him to live.”

Bako’s eyes had been growing wider and wider as the pack was searched, and he appeared to be shocked when a pistol appeared.

Maksym unloaded it and put it aside. “Not particularly, but were you really going to shoot him?”

“Perv never apologized so I have to, but not here. It would make a mess. Trackers?”

“It will have to be you and Myroslava. Since we can already guess, I need everyone else here.” Maksym pointed an admonitory finger at him. “Don’t shoot anyone unless absolutely necessary.”

“Well, we obviously have different opinions about absolutely necessary, but you’re the boss.”

“And don’t fire your pistol in the air, cowboy.” He meticulously shredded Rustam’s backpack with the knife. “There it is.” A squashed spider resided on the tip of his index finger. “I suspected his bosses didn’t trust him. Dump it.”

Antin sauntered over for a closer look. “A new model. Can we keep it?”

“No. I can toss it in the fire or you can take it with you.”

“Right.” He carefully transferred it to his pocket. “That’s a nice chunk of change.”

“Big operators. We’d better get going.” Maksym looked at Zlata.

She nodded and gathered up her cooking gear.

“What did he mean?” Bako looked up from the video. “And what is that thing that was in the backpack?”

“He means that Rustam is going for the orcs. He’s going to betray us.” Priti stood up.

Bako stared at her. “I don’t know what to say. I thought he was our friend. He said he was from the same university. He seemed to know it. He helped us.”

Antin shook his head. “He could barely tolerate sitting next to either of you. It’s a tale of extremely bad luck and fabulously good luck. Whatever happened in the hospital wasn’t nearly as dangerous as being here today; no international witnesses are wanted and it wouldn’t have been long before you found out for yourselves that there was no way Ukrainian soldiers were in that town. It was no longer a matter of planting drugs on you and deporting you to some forgotten prison to undermine your credibility. There’s no legitimate reason for Rustam to be traveling in this direction, but it’s a great spot for getting rid of awkward witnesses. We were already watching him, wanted to have a word or two. Bad news for him, very good news for you. He hadn’t planned for contingencies and got flustered. He wrongly assumed that the kiddies camping out in the wood pretending to know how to use guns were the lesser problem and would be easily hoodwinked by a few, vague promises of knowing how to get us safely out of here which he would gladly do because he’s such a nice guy who was taking the time to straighten us out about how no one has invaded our country. Not to be insulting, but your demises were just a sideline, a little extra cash: these are who he’s really after.” He pointed across the camp.

Zlata held back the blanket from the opening, and the children emerged from the shelter, led by Nadiya and followed by Oleksiy and Veronika.

There was a moment of silence. The gang burst into outraged chatter.

“How dare he say those lies!”

“I know! Like we weren’t standing right next to our school when the orcs bombed it!”

“And the hospitals!”

“And the town where Bilyal—”

“Oh, he was so nasty! You should have seen the way he was looking at—”

“I know! I was looking out through the crack and—”

“Oh, my. Oh my word.” Priti exhaled in a whoosh.

“Thanks so much for helping.” Zlata hugged Nadiya and kissed her forehead. “You were very, very brave and did a great job.” She looked at the others. “All of you, you did great, perfect!” She gave Yaryna, Ayana, Dalila, and Borysko big smooches. “You were wonderful, so quiet!”

Yaryna erupted with excited, starry-eyed babble while Ayana and Dalila alternated beaming smiles with wary glances at the newcomers.

Borysko stomped over to Maksym and planted his fists on his hips. “I want to beat him up. I should beat him up. Can I beat him up?”

Judging from the noisy approvals, the majority was ready to join Borysko’s posse.

“Sorry to be such a downer, but it’s better if the perv just goes away. He’s really a nothing, can’t fight his way out of a paper bag much less take on all of you bloodthirsty cutthroats.” He nodded to the newcomers. “The important thing was to get him to go away without taking our new friends with him. This is Priti and Bako.”

“I feel gross, horrible, like someone dumped a bucket of slime on me.” Bako rubbed his face. “I can’t believe it, I just can’t … Hi, everyone. What can I do? How can I help?”

“We need help carrying the little ones. They can’t walk any farther today,” said Antin. “But before we let you closer, we need to search your backpacks and disable your cellphones. I’m sorry, but we have to be careful, we can’t afford mistakes. Will you let us?”

Priti said, “There’s no such thing as too careful under these circumstances.” She gestured to the little ones and passed her backpack to Maksym. “I know you can’t trust anyone, but especially us because of who we were with. Thanks for saving our lives.”

Bako said, “Me, too. Thanks for not lumping me in with him. I still can’t believe he was going to kill us. It’s unreal. Are you sure?”

“No one can be sure because it didn’t happen. But as you saw, he’s not a university student, he’s definitely organized crime, and I can’t think of any other reason for him to be out here. The scumbag greatly dislikes both of you and that’s a wonderful compliment, of course. Couldn’t have a better recommendation.” Antin finished stuffing the remains of Perv’s backpack into a sack. He waved at Maksym and Zlata. “See you soon.” Myroslava was disappearing into the shadows; he jogged to catch up. Another long night.

He was lead, wading downstream through mud and shallow water. So far, he hadn’t sunk into the freezing glop above his shins. Wow, was it cold. He gritted his teeth and stopped to look back.

At the rear, the tall dark shape of Oleksiy pulled the homemade raft while the distant smudge of Grygoriy steered it from behind with guide ropes.

Antin hadn’t been sure the long, narrow contraption would carry all the middle kids, but with the addition of the wooden pallets thoughtfully dumped over the bridge by some upstanding citizen, everyone was well above the waterline. None had any interest in being dunked in a freezing river, so the usual hijinks associated with such an adventure were lacking.

Closest to the front, Maksym helped Zlata and Priti keep their balance while Borysko, perched on Priti’s back, bounced up and down in his kidpack and tried to extort the meaning of ashicking and puhvert.

A doll danced happily on Zlata’s shoulder. “Ashicking puhvuh! Ashicking puhvuh!” The doll clapped hands, and Yaryna bestowed her contagious smile on everyone.

Dalila and Ayana—who had been temporarily convinced by Bako that this river harbored no crocs because they all went to Africa for the winter—sang from their kidpacks on Veronika and Marynia while clapping in time. “Ashicking puhvuh wastik nimyon! Ashicking puhvuh wastik nimyon!”

Bako harmonized with a beautiful tenor while steadying the older girls, and Viktoriya giggled as she pretended to conduct the choir from her perch on his back. He and Veronika suddenly leaned to the left when Marynia lost her balance to the right. The trio stopped for a moment to regroup.

Maksym looked at Zlata reprovingly. “Aren’t you supposed to be singing a sweet lullaby or telling a morally uplifting tale?”

“I’m enjoying the vocabulary lesson.” Zlata’s teeth chattered. “My feet have had enough again. Time for another foot-warming break. If we have to go any farther, we’ll need to take turns with the raft. It’s getting too dangerous, someone’s going to fall in.”

“I didn’t know water could be this cold and not be ice cubes. Sheesh.” Priti shuddered.

Maksym said, “I think we’re good. Antin, Myroslava, up ahead where the overhanging bushes are. Start another fire and then find a campsite.”

Myroslava muttered obscenities as she raced by and thoughtfully doused her brother with icy splashes.

She did that on purpose, the wretch. Antin laughed, forced his feet into motion again, and scrambled up the slippery slope. Shivering, he put the socks and boots back on, stomped his feet and stepped slowly into the gloom, getting a feel for his surroundings. This wood belt was a thin strip composed mostly of shrubs and saplings with rows of taller trees next to the watercourse. There was some ambient light tonight; he wouldn’t need the navigation cane. Spotting the spark of a lighter, he met his sister and built a small fire in a tiny clearing.

After they warmed up a bit, he led to the east. It wasn’t long before he noticed the darker shadow of a thermal-obscuring depression not far from the water. It would be cramped and muddy, but one of the nearby trees was perfect for a lookout. He shed the backpack that contained the primary campsite gear, moved his scout pack from his front to his back, and checked out the local area, eventually meeting up with Myroslava. She gave the all-clear. After a few moments, the response was faintly heard. Good, he wouldn’t have to backtrack to get in range. He dumped the dry, dead wood he had gathered and started another fire.

The others arrived in twos and threes. Maksym waved Antin over. “Can you and Myroslava go back and leave no trace plus a false trail on the south side? Veronika, Grygoriy, and Oleksiy already went back for the rest of the gear.”

Antin looked at Myroslava. She nodded.

“Great. I’ll do this side, so use a different route when you come back.” Maksym clapped them both on the shoulders.

Myroslava sidled past the kids to the row of backpacks and clipped some spare boots onto her scout pack. “My toes are going to fall off.”

“I’m more concerned about the lack of sleep.”

“We can sleep next year. We can’t grow our toes back next year.”

“A lack of sleep is conducive to a state of permanent rest. We won’t have to worry about next year at all.”

“Should I get a different partner?”

“No. I don’t think anyone else is in any better shape. Let’s get it done.” At the riverbank, he doffed the footwear and waded quickly through the freezing water. The fires were still lit, so the toe-warming breaks were much swifter. At the three-quarter mark, he waved cheerfully at the trio who were awkwardly poling the barge of backpacks. They made vulgar gestures in return. Antin laughed to himself; Oleksiy was already in a new suit of clothes. Veronika and Grygoriy weren’t, so he hadn’t managed to dunk them when he went under.

It wasn’t long before he crossed to the south bank and reached the hedgerow between the road and the field. Myroslava kept watch while he sat, air dried his feet, and pulled out the packages of precious toe warmers. There were only a few left. Guarding her while she took care of her feet, he considered the action plan. He readied the multi tool survival spade and adjusted the length. “Forward or back?”

“I’ll do back this time.” She finished checking the route with her binocular and nodded for him to go ahead.

Using the spade and rake, he loosened layers of twigs, sticks, leaves, dead grass, and dirt from under the edge of the hedgerow and spread it to either side as he followed the trail back. Reaching the belt of trees on the far side of the field, he turned around.

She was covering their tracks, putting on the finishing touches—the harder job—and was only about halfway done.

Antin scanned the road. The lanes and the bridge were clear but the shoulders were still mined. The route directly over was safe; his muddy footprints from earlier were clearly visible crossing the road and leading into the wood. He chose two suitable branches, trimmed them to the correct lengths, tied two mismatched boots to each, affixed the hand-held metal detector, and fine-tuned the locus.

Myroslava joined him and swiftly constructed her own extra feet and minesweeper. While he covered, she raced across the road while leaving a lot of footprints and disappeared into the shadows.

His turn. He stamped prints slightly overlaying the others. Not too neat. Clear prints here and there. Now and again, he added more prints to the slightly off-path batches Myroslava had started; the end result looked like people had been standing around, talking.

She followed the old trail to the distant bog.

He caught up and confirmed that Perv’s backpack, spider, and satellite phone still resided in the particularly sloppy spot he had chosen earlier. “Loop?”

“Loop.”

After a brisk hour and a semicircle through the wood with minor detours when anything suspicious was detected, he and the boot-sticks met up with the original trail not far from the road. He jumped onto it, backed to the edge of the wood, and waited for Myroslava to cover. Then he ran across and backed down the trail. No one shot him so he gave the all-clear.

In a few moments, she was backing quickly toward him. “Twenty.”

He backed twenty paces, leaped into the brush, and moved farther into the wood. He stopped, disassembled his boot-sticks, and raced to yesterday’s camp. When he was close enough, he found a tree, swung his rope up to the lowest branch, and scrambled to a good view. The wood was empty and quiet, and there were no return tracks visible along the dim perv path leading to the orc outpost. After Myroslava closed the gap, he followed the gang’s big trail from the camp to the field and trotted backward along the edge, farther away from the road.

After a very long session of back-trotting through multiple fields and hedgerows, a faint hoot sounded from the northeast. Good enough. Antin reentered the wood and left a bunch of circuitous prints. Returning to the field, he slung his rifle and readied the multi-tool spade.

Myroslava studied all directions and then led north.

He left no trace while she checked for mines and covered. They stayed close together this time. He didn’t think he needed to do a great job, but he did anyway. From what he had seen, the zwastikas and lackeys could barely hold a rifle, much less hit anything with it or follow a trail. They were here to pillage, rape, and destroy. If there was nothing to steal, incinerate, or screw, they were very reluctant combatants forcing the expenditure of well more than the usual firepower before any of them could be trusted to attempt defending anything, much less attacking it. Additionally, the local orcs were getting annoyed and complaining about the Johnny-come-lately criminals running off with their loot. A few of the mercenaries were a different matter, but most were just cannon-fodder. As far as he could tell from the conversations he had overheard, none of the enemy forces gave a shit about military objectives and the vast majority thought their leaders were stupid assholes. What did Myroslava think?

They discussed the pros and cons of the various forces. Then they argued about the bungled invasion, how to properly invade or defend Ukraine, the brainless leaders and ridiculous mouthpieces of some nations, and a few of the blatantly hypocritical United Nations representatives and office holders.

“What did you think of my speech?”

“Too wordy. Most people don’t read thesauruses for fun.” An exaggerated snore emanated from the lead. “And you should’ve let Perv get a few words in edgewise for the drama. You know, like the politicians do when they’re debating or giving interviews. They never answer questions or challenges, they just use them as a platform to launch back to whatever they wanted to talk about in the first place. Other than that, I thought it deserved several ovations.”

“Good points, thanks. And I think I need to find a better way to ram home the hypocrisy of pretending to care about the dignity of people one’s busy enslaving.” Antin cupped his ear. Owls to the east. Maksym was checking in with the camp guards. It wasn’t far now.

One last trip through the invigorating water. There was no guarantee that he wasn’t going in up to his waist. Or worse. He regarded the river with disfavor, noting the currents, where it was frozen, where it wasn’t, where it was wider, where it wasn’t. He moved upstream, got out his navigation cane, and took his footwear off. The way across meandered, there were numerous dips and mud pits to avoid, but he managed to achieve the north bank without getting wet above his thighs. Myroslava joined him and they both got their boots back on as fast as possible. He followed her into the wood. They moved fast. It was much easier to leave no trace here than in an open field, mostly because it was possible to leave fewer prints in the first place. Maksym had done a thorough job with the earlier trail. There was no sign of it, not even a whiff of charred wood from the fires. After a half hour, he ran across the trail leading to the lookout. Done, finally. He descended the slope into camp.

Warm boots, clothes, and hot food were waiting.

“Zlata, I love you.” Myroslava sighed with relief as she snatched up the bundle warming by the fire. She vanished into the big tent.

Antin was right behind her. “Oh, that feels good. Did you smell that? Mmm-mmm-mmm. I never knew I liked goat. Partridge and hare, too.”

“Knowing how to cook has a lot to do with it, but the Marynia-high-protien diet is doing everyone good, I think. We just can’t spare Maksym and he’s the only one who can hunt soundlessly.” She shook her head as she pulled up the dry trousers. “I’ve been practicing with the catapult, but I’m not good enough and it’s too easy to lose ammo. We need to save the rest.”

He left the tent as soon as possible and returned to the fire.

“How are your feet?” Zlata handed him a plate.

He wiggled his happy toes in the toasty boots. “They’re fine. Standing around would’ve been a problem, but we were moving the whole time.”

“Mine, too.” Myroslava hurriedly dumped the wet clothes and boots onto the pile of similar items, swiftly sat, and dug into the steaming, fragrant food. “Mmm, this is good. Thanks for staying up.”

“It’s the least I could do. I really can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.” Zlata looked from Myroslava to Antin and back. “What are your plans?”

“Maksym needs to scout. We’ll go up a tree and keep an eye on the trail. We can take turns sleeping.” Myroslava stared at the damp pile with pursed lips. “How many times did Oleksiy go under?”

“Poor guy. I need to get the clothesline up or he’s going to be a little underdressed. I have to admire him. Once would have been enough for me.” Zlata shuddered and returned her attention to the breakfast prep. “I think he has antifreeze instead of blood. Veronika, too. There’s always a cloud of steam following her around.”

Antin laughed. It was true. When either slept in the shelter, they wound up with piles of children snuggled around them like a tribe of cats on a warm hearth. He refrained from licking the plate, gestured for Myroslava to lead the way, and stooped to kiss Zlata’s cheek. “Thanks again, see you soon.”

Myroslava leaned up against a tree on the riverbank.

He propped himself up against the other side. “One of us should learn to cook.”

“You suck.”

“So do you.”

“Viktoriya?”

“The fire department showed up.”

Myroslava sighed.

Maksym eventually descended. He patted the tree trunk reverentially. “Great tree. Your hammocks are there, but I didn’t set them up. Nothing yet, but I thought I saw some light toward the road, off to the southwest.” He handed the scope to Antin. “From the looks of things, I’m scouting north northwest with Veronika, so take a peek now and again in that direction, too. Thanks.”

“Ooh, The Precious!” Antin grinned. “You’re letting me play with your favorite toy?”

“If you break it, I’m going to have to ask mommy to give you a spanking.”

Antin raised a haughty eyebrow. “Is that an appropriate remark to make to a twelve-year-old? I’ll have to report you to … um, someone.”

Maksym snorted. “Everyone knows you’ve got a crush on Zlata. And if they didn’t, they do after today. See you later.”

“Really? You’ve got a crush on Zlata?” Myroslava’s pale face shone down from the branches for a moment. “I thought you just liked her.”

He followed her up the ropes. “It should be embarrassing, it’s so trite. A twelve-year-old boy falls in love with an older girl. Except that it’s Zlata. Who could be embarrassed about that? It’s been interesting. I always assumed people were exaggerating about falling in love against their will. It seems like such an incredibly stupid thing to do, and here I am, Eros’ latest victim. She let me kiss her cheek.” He smiled smugly.

“Wow. Look at this view. I can see all the way back to the road. Maksym wasn’t exaggerating, this is a wonderful tree. Zlata didn’t deck you? I would’ve. What’s it like?”

“I’ll tell you about it in a while; I need to appreciate The Precious first.” After he had made himself comfortable and safe, he focused on where they had entered the river by the road and then backtracked their route, little by little. “This thing is fantastic. Oh, hello! There they are. Coming up the edge of the other wood. Get the thermal blankets. I’m fairly certain we’re too far away for any gear they’ve got, if they have any at all, but better to be safe. We must look like conflagrations in these warm clothes.” He quickly got the barrier between himself and the enemy. “Now, where are they? They’re heading to the road. Heading to the road. Missed our trail north. Heading to the road. Past the hedgerow. Crossing the road. They don’t want to go into the other wood. Someone has a few brain cells.”

“Crap. I can’t see any details. This binocular isn’t good enough.” Myroslava exhaled with noisy exasperation. She patted the tree. “It’s not your fault, Princess. You’re doing a great job.”

Antin smiled with the serene superiority of one who has the best gear, checked his harness, and leaned farther out. “Coming up the road toward the bridge, can only see them now and again, moving slow, stopped, looking at a map, maybe, oh! Going into the west wood from—Ooh, ow.” He covered his eye as the sound of the distant explosion reached them. “No, they’re not. Darn, I should give my eyeball a little rest. Want to look?”

Myroslava issued the all-clear in response to the query from the guards. “What’s the matter with you that you ask such a stupid question? Hand it over.”

“Remember what Maksym said.”

“I’ll make sure to drop it when I’m done.”

“Thanks.” He leaned back against the tree and crossed his legs. “So, at first I thought I was missing Mom, just full of affection for a mommy-type, especially on Viktoriya’s behalf. You know we don’t pay attention to feelings as much as we should.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m the epitome of emotional sensitivity.”

“You looked that up online.”

She kicked him. “At least I bothered.”

“Ouch.” He rubbed his head. “To continue, one day I happened to pay attention and realized it wasn’t any such thing. Quite a shock, let me tell you. Maybe if I had noticed earlier, I could have weeded the insidious honeysuckle from my tidy, walled garden of love. But nothing seems to work now, and of course Zlata’s not helping. But I don’t know that anything needs to be done. She’s humoring me, trying not to impatiently swat away the effervescent, iridescent, yet slimy bubble of my fragile, tremulous, juvenile ego. After cogitating, I decided that I’m proud of my first hopeless passion. From the little I know, few boys do even half as well when selecting the unfortunate victim of a forlorn infatuation.”

“Good point, once the overgrown verbiage is pruned. After the warm boots, I’m in love with her, too. We’ll have to fight a duel.” She tossed one of her gloves into his lap.

“That’s not right. You can’t fling gauntlets into laps. Tsk.”

“You could’ve dodged.”

He glanced at the long drop to either side.

“Give my gauntlet back after you smack yourself with it.”

“Fine.” Antin handed back the glove. “Maksym will call on your second.”

“Maksym is my second.”

“Who’s my second?”

“Borysko.”

“Rubber-band guns?”

“Maksym might be able to negotiate something less lethal.”

“Zlata has great boobs.”

“A boy’s brain taking up permanent residence in his balls is one of the first signs of puberty.”

“I only stare at her boobs once a day.” Because he rationed himself. Antin smiled. He would be perfectly happy to stare at any part of Zlata all day, poor girl. He hadn’t known before that it was even remotely possible to like ears. Maybe he was abnormal. More abnormal than before, that is. Should he check? Nah.

“Only once a day? Do you set your alarm? It’s boob-staring time? Do you set another for when boob-staring time is up?” She snorted. “Those dickheads over there seem hopelessly befuddled as well. You know, one of the orcs is still alive, the others are staying well back, not going near him, he’s dragging himself to the road, and—Ow, crap! Not any more, he’s not.” She moved The Precious to her left eye after notifying the guards again. “I’m pretty sure the perv is with them. One of the signatures is different from the others. Still arguing, waving arms around. Oh, someone just got shot. I hope it was … No, Perv’s still lurking. It was probably whoever was supposed to know where the mines are. Awesome, someone just punched Perv in the face. Unfortunately, he didn’t fall on a mine. I bet he was mouthing off. Sorry you missed it.”

“The Precious is recording. I’ll enjoy it in slow motion later, capture a bunch of stills, do some enhancement. When did you become so bloodthirsty?”

“Stupid question, but I’ll say it peaked right about the time the stupid shits blew up a hospital while you and Viktoriya were in it. Otherwise the nasty creep would’ve gotten it right where it counts the very first time he stared at Nadiya’s crotch.”

“Hmm. I was pretty close to putting a bullet between his eyes, but you’re right. Shooting his dick off is so much more becoming.” Antin tapped his cheek, considering. “Do you think we’re too polite, letting him get away so he’s free to rape other kids?”

“We don’t know for sure that he has.”

“I bet there’s all the proof in the world on his cellphones.”

“Very likely. But as Maksym says, we’re not police or soldiers, and it’s probably best not to castrate pervs in front of the children. Zlata wouldn’t like it.” Myroslava sighed regretfully. “Zwastikas are finally finished dithering and are heading back, leaving the bodies. Staying to the road, skipping the wood. Gone. At the very least, they'll be back with a minesweeper to collect the comrades. I bet they say the mine killed all of them and no one notices the bullet hole in the face. I love this gadget.” She fiddled with the controls. “Why don’t we have one, you slacker?”

“Need a few billion, more if it’s stolen, and we’ll be shot if we’re found in the same room as it.”

“Pooh! Find out how Maksym managed it.”

“Good luck with that. My eye is rested.” He reached for The Precious.

She smacked his hand away. “I never said I would give it back. I said I would drop it.”

“Fine, be that way. How’s the temper these days?”

“A smoldering volcano, but no pyrotechnics predicted in the immediate future now that Perv is gone. Puberty sucks.” She examined him critically. “I think it’s really unfair that your hormones aren’t running amok.”

He assessed the situation. It was promising. “I’m positive that they’re seriously considering joining the fray now that my brain has moved south. I’m going to do a wide patrol.” He checked his phone. “It’s almost boob-staring time. You’re good?”

She nodded absently. “Sure. You’re not allowed to look at boobs with a binocular. That crosses the line from lewdness to depravity.”

“Dang. What about ears?”

“Don’t make me trade you in for a new brother.” She eyed him suspiciously, as if aliens were going to burst from his gall bladder at any moment. “I don’t want to hear anything more about what you stare at.”

“You’re such a prude. I can probably see my goddess from here.” He raised the binocular with a provocative flourish. “I’ll tell you all about it. Ooh, there she is!” He sighed in ecstasy. “Mmm! She’s bending over the—” The glasses flew from his hands as a small boot kicked him off the branch.

“Borysko is my new brother. Go away.”

Dangling by one arm, Antin laughed as he watched the metallic blanket waft to the ground. He double-checked his gear and prepared for the descent. “Love you.”

“Love you.”

Fifteen minutes. Thirty minutes. Forty-five minutes. Myroslava was late. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to ease the tension. Birdsong.

Maksym left. He was back soon. “Myroslava’s lead. They’re heading out.”

“Zwastikas?”

“Transport parked down the road to the south, out of sight. The orcs are still sitting around the campfire on this side of the road behind a couple of bushes in the hedgerow by the south end of the bridge, getting drunk and waiting for us to fall in their laps as if that’s not the first place any reasonable person would expect to find an ambush. They’re sure that we’re on the other side of the road and are going to have to come back to cross the bridge since it’s a dead end at the bog over there. That buys us a lot of time and real estate. But I’m pretty certain now that the orcs don’t believe whatever lies Perv told them about the super-powered, nuclear-armed spies and terrorists camping in the woods that Perv duped with stratagems of unmatched genius to escape unscathed, or they would have sent at least one competent orc to notice the river can be forded, among other things. I think they’ve written Priti and Bako off for now, and I’m kind of surprised that Perv is still alive since he muffed it so badly and allowed his gear to be taken. What do you think?”

Antin reviewed. Myroslava had undoubtedly performed an extremely thorough reconnaissance. “Your entertaining analysis deserves multiple awards. It’s all about the money, the loot, the bonuses for deportation and conscription. Perv had to fork back the cash and promise more to get the orcs here. I suspect he’s going to be dead for making his oligarch look bad, dropping the ball, and cutting into the bottom line, but I think others might take care of it first. Was he drinking?”

Maksym was silent for a moment. “Myroslava said Perv was drinking and smoking like a chimney.”

“I’ll be surprised if the zwastikas don’t shoot him before nightfall just because he’s an ass, but they almost certainly will because he already cost them several comrades.”

A shot rang out from the correct direction.

“That was fast.” Maksym leaned against the tree.

“We can’t jump to conclusions. Perv might have accidentally shot himself in the foot.”

“I prefer to be an optimist, and you’re right. Since it can’t be their fault for not knowing where the mines were, it must be Perv’s fault. I hadn’t thought of that.” Maksym peered up through the branches. “Did Myroslava really kick you out of the tree?”

Antin grinned down at him. “Of course she did. Disowned me, too.”

“Well, I’m sure you deserved it, but I can’t approve. She can’t just—”

“No, no, no.” Antin shooed away the faux pas. “We’ve been shoving each other out of trees for years. This was the tallest so far. I’m in first place.”

“Argh! You two! I don’t suppose you’d consider my nervous disposition?”

“Certainly. I’ll ask her not to mention it in the future.”

Maksym grumbled under his breath. “I guess I’ll have to settle for that. Time to go.”

Antin eventually arrived on the ground with all the gear and spent the next few minutes inspecting and stowing. He patted the trunk. “Thanks, Princess. Ready?”

“Ready.”

There wasn’t much for the rearguard to do for the next couple hours, so Antin let his mind wander as he performed the rote tasks, entertaining himself with various scenarios that the zwastikas might concoct to explain why Rustam the Perv was no long with them, assuming none had the intelligence to realize that no one cared. All they had to say was that he left.

He idly wondered which boss or petty dictator was in charge of nefarious activity for this area for which forces. Dear Daddy certainly knew. Mentally organizing the network of associates in crime, he thought he had achieved a fairly clear picture of the territories and hierarchies when birdsong from the vanguard interrupted his train of thought. Before refocusing his full attention, he made a mental note that the local bosses were probably even more worried than he had assumed. Rustam the Perv certainly wasn’t one of theirs. There would be a slew of mysterious deaths in the near future. Time to scout.

After departing the safety of the brush by the river, he cut across a field to the thick stand of trees heading northwest, gradually putting more distance between himself and the road which veered west after the bridge. When leave-no-trace was no longer needed, he caught up to the normal rearguard position. Where a branch railway line crossed a new river nestled in a wide, sodden floodplain, he clambered up the embankment and across the rails to stay on the south side because it would soon be the west bank of the meandering waterway. Zigzagging around the empty fields, he followed the belts of vegetation and the occasional muddy farm road northwest, making excellent time.

The gang halted. Time for a snack break. Borysko could easily do at least eight kilometers at a fast pace now—conditions and temper permitting—before he needed a rest and his little jet engine stoked. Dalila, Ayana, and Yaryna would be walking the next set so everyone else would slow to a relaxed amble except the vanguard and rearguard. They would use the extra time to scout ahead and off-route, swapping off. Antin smiled as he remembered the faraway days when his parents would take him and Myroslava on hikes in that glittering, fairy-tale era before everything fell apart. They had loved being in the woods and fields, being with their parents, being happy together. He sighed and leaned against a tree.

“Hanging in there?” Maksym was scanning the fields and hedgerows, as usual.

“Yes, just making myself miserable with happy memories.”

“I know the feeling. I should bring you up to date since you missed the meeting.” Maksym lowered the scope and pointed to the south. “The road is several kilometers that way, running west northwest. We’re currently traveling almost parallel, gradually diverging. The main railway is on the other side of the road and yesterday’s river has wandered over to this side and is now between us and the towns. Most of the downtown areas are around the road and rail, but there are plenty of little villages and neighborhoods on this side of the river. It loops back and forth across the road several more times. We won’t see today’s river again. This was the farthest west it gets.” He finished sketching the map in the mud and tossed the stick away. “Before we turn more to the north, we need to stock up. This should be a good place to do it.”

“So we’ll be staying put for at least a day?”

“Moving slower, anyway. You, Myroslava, and I won’t be doing any scouting or foraging. We need to rest. Sleep and eat, eat and sleep. Play with kids. Take naps. Check everyone’s gear, make repairs. Guard duty. Do some hunting. It’s not a great area for it, but hares get a little careless this time of year so what there is will be easier to spot. We’re close to breaking out. We can’t rely on the zwastikas being green anymore; they’ve had enough time in the field to get up to speed. Once we start out in earnest, we’re going to be scouting almost non-stop, so rest up.”

“Eat and sleep. Play. Take naps. I feel like I just won the lottery.” Antin grinned. “When does vacation begin?”

“Whenever Marynia gets up tomorrow, we’re officially off duty. Speaking of lotteries, that night you showed up in the wood, I was freaking horrified. A sick baby and three new kids in less than fifteen minutes. But it’s been a long time since I’ve considered that night as anything but one of the luckiest in my life. I drew the winning ticket.” Maksym’s dark eyes glinted. “And not just because you’re exceptional and a tremendous help, but because I consider you a friend, a good friend. I hope you feel the same.” A slight smile flashed. “We don’t get to talk much except about work.”

Antin thought about it. Close friends had always been out of the question thanks to dear Daddy; anyone he really liked had to be kept at a distance. “You know what you’re asking?”

“Yep.” Maksym extended his hand.

“Thanks.” Antin took a deep breath and clasped it. “I appreciate it.” He was surprised at the enormous relief he felt, as if a tremendous burden had been lifted. Which burden? He didn’t know.

“Here, take this.”

He accepted The Precious with alacrity. “Going to check on the superiors?”

“Annoys the crap out of them, especially Zlata.” Maksym shrugged. “Habit. I’ll be right back.”

Antin backed deeper into the cover. The last, long days loomed. Viktoriya would be safe. Safer, anyway. He raised the scope and studied the way they had come.

“No luck?”

Veronika gave a thumbs-down. “Zero, zilch.” She deposited her pitiful foraging backpack by the shelter and glumly sat next to Maksym while Grygoriy took the space between Priti and Bako.

Priti looked at Maksym. “Well, what do you think?”

“I think we still have a few days before we have to change plans. I’m aware some stores are open and there are other vendors. I’m just very reluctant to let you and Bako try to purchase supplies. I don’t think you’ll be able to get the quantities we need and certainly not without attracting attention.” Maksym shrugged. “We really can’t spare you, and we can’t spare anyone to go with you. I’m sorry, but we just can’t.”

“But every little bit helps. Let us try early tomorrow. This is a bigger town, we won’t stand out as much, and we’ll be back by the time everyone is ready to go. And if we’re not, leave us. We’ll catch up.” Bako held out his hands. “I think it’s worth a try. And we’ll also get a better sense of what the situation is in these towns.”

“I can’t stop you. But I can’t risk orcs following you back to camp. If you go, the camp won’t be here and you won’t find it. I can leave a rear guard who will rendezvous with you if possible once we’re sure you aren’t being watched.” Maksym exhaled in a huff, ran his hands through his hair, and yanked his hat back on his head. “I know it’s frustrating. I’m frustrated. But we’ve come too far to make mistakes now just because we’re close and impatient. It will take as long as it takes while not letting down our guard, and if we have to change our plans, our route, then that’s what we do. If you want to leave us, strike out on your own to make better time, then you should.” He looked from Bako to Priti and back.

Bako made an exasperated face. “No, I don’t want that. It’s just irritating that trying to help causes more problems than it solves and that our money is useless. I wish I could do more.”

Zlata said, “Your money won’t always be useless. We’re so lucky you’re here, that you’re good people who want to help. Maybe we haven’t thanked you enough or made you feel it. I’m sorry for that.”

Priti smiled wryly. “Thanks. You all seem to know what you’re doing all the time. We feel like tag-a-longs, I guess. We’re adults, but you kids are taking all the risks.”

“We don’t mean anything by it.” Zlata held out an apologetic hand. “It wasn’t necessary to fit you into a team when we’re so close to breaking out. If you want to start training, shadowing the foragers and scouts like the rest of us did, you can. I’ll get with Myroslava about the roster first thing.” She looked up at the sky. “Tomorrow’s already here. We should get some sleep and save the lantern batteries.”

Veronika stayed seated by Maksym as the others went to the shelter and tents. “Any advice?”

“No. You don’t need advice. It’s just bad luck. Happens.” Maksym patted her shoulder.

“They don’t know.” She rested her head on her fist.

“No, they don’t know what we do, the sort of things we document, day after day. They’re fortunate.” He yawned and stretched.

“Where are you sleeping?”

“In my tree, over there. See you later.” He stood and vanished into the shadows.

She stared at the little lantern. Anichka. Mom. Dad, the principal of the school. He was inside when it was bombed. She bowed her head. After a long time, she took a shuddering breath, wiped her eyes, grabbed the lantern, and joined Marynia, Zlata, Viktoriya, and Sofiyko in the little tent. She slowly fell asleep, remembering, remembering.

All the houses were quiet, broken and burned. Several were worth reinvestigating after they had finished the first reconnaissance. She skirted the backyards. The next house was enclosed by a high fence; she would have to double-check it on the way back. She froze and then peeked through a crack in the gate. There, behind the bushes. All was not dark; there was a tiny glow from one of the basement windows. Excellent. Bako had been spot-on about the lack of local information. It was time for a little eavesdropping. She slowly pulled the gate open just wide enough, crept in, and ducked through the gloom next to the fence, dodging the large doghouse as quickly as possible. At the nearest approach, she leaped to the back wall and crouched against the house. There was no motion or sound from above, so she stretched out on her stomach and opened her compact.

The little mirror reflected a man tied to a chair. His head drooped and blood ran from above his ear. A rifle butt slashed through the air and smashed against his face. Black blood splattered in the dim light.

Veronika flinched and froze. Oh, my god. No. She didn’t see that. No. Yes. Yes, she did.

Orcs. How many? Two visible. She waited. The orcs asked the man questions, over and over: Where are the others? Where is he going? Where did he come from? Where are the plans? Tell us, and we’ll end your suffering. It’s that easy. They asked other things that she didn’t understand. Strange names and words.

One orc casually picked up a hammer. It arced through the air and struck the soldier’s knee with a sickening sound. The man refused to scream, gritting his teeth and groaning with huffing breaths.

She put the compact away and drew her pistol. Her right eye slowly surmounted the edge of the broken window. She aimed calmly and carefully, just like Great-Auntie taught her. One, two, three. A face grew a red cavity. Before the other orc could react, a hole appeared in his forehead.

Veronika grabbed her rifle, scrambled back, jumped to the fence, and dived into the doghouse, flattening herself to the ground as much as possible in the small space. Birdsong: Take cover. After a few minutes, muffled yells emanated from the house. Three voices. A light flared, and orcs were in the backyard. She didn’t know how many. She couldn’t see them, and they couldn’t see her. Yet. The door to the doghouse faced the across yard, not toward the house. She aimed. A shadow. An orc almost crossed the line but moved back. Shots rang out. Close, from the wood. Oleksiy. Answering fire. Silence.

She heard a barely audible stay-put chirp from behind and carefully let out the breath she’d been holding. Oleksiy was alive. Time dragged on. Patience. A terrifyingly long time. Patience. She thought about the man in the basement. Did she really do that? She gagged. Stop it. Stop. Focus.

The sharp crack of a rifle from behind, followed by a scream.

Oleksiy murmured, “I knew he would stick that barrel out a window sooner or later. What is it? Why did you shoot?”

She whispered to the back wall, “There’s a man in the basement being tortured. One of our soldiers. How did you know what the orc would do?”

“I didn’t. He was either already out the front door, or he was at the back, waiting for us to move. But Veronika, what were you thinking? Never mind. Quiet now, the orc might not be dead yet and we have to make sure. I’ll be there in a sec.”

She listened to him move away from his position in the neighboring yard and then scooted forward until she had a partial view of the back of the house. In the stillness, what she had done played over and over in her mind, an endless loop, a living nightmare.

Soft birdsong. She scrambled out the door and around the corner as Oleksiy, Marynia, and Grygoriy crept through the extra dark by the fence. She crouched and took a few deep breaths to steady her voice. “All right. I think that there were only five, but I don’t know for sure. Four are definitely dead. Oleksiy, you and Marynia to the front. Clear the top floor. Careful, take your time. I’ll be at the back door. Grygoriy will cover the back.”

“Let me get ready.” He peeked his rifle over the top of the doghouse. Nothing shot it. “All right, go.”

Pointedly ignoring the bodies in the yard, Veronika raced up the back stairs and flattened to the wall by the door. She watched Oleksiy and Marynia sidle along the fence and disappear past the side of the house. It seemed like ages before she heard a muted hoot from inside. She gestured to Grygoriy. He scrambled to the lit basement window; when he was in position, she took a deep breath, hooted softly, and entered the house.

“Seems strange to have owls in the house. Dead zwastika in the bedroom,” murmured Oleksiy.

“Basement?” She looked around.

Marynia opened the door a crack and used her compact to investigate. “Can’t see, it’s too dark.” Back to the wall, she pushed the door completely open and held her cellphone flashlight up, revealing narrow stairs with open rails and risers leading down into black.

Veronika descended a few steps, crouched, and used her compact to inspect the room below her feet. The basement was relatively clean and neat; it hadn’t been ransacked yet. She swiftly side-stepped down and claimed a corner.

Oleksiy crossed the basement. He opened the only door, the one to the back room. After a few moments he stepped inside and waved her to come ahead.

The small room smelled awful. Veronika gagged and then breathed through her mouth as she stepped around the dead orcs. She drew her knife and cut the ties binding the soldier’s arms. Oh, god, his hands were in terrible trouble. She started sawing through the ropes around his chest.

He looked up blearily with one partially open, bloodshot eye. “No, don’t cut those, I’ll fall over. Who are you?”

The hand with the knife dropped to her side. She hadn’t thought of that. What now? Could he walk? No, he couldn’t. What were they going to do now?

“Civilians. We were passing by.” Oleksiy sounded calm from his spot by the door. “Who are you?”

“A Ukrainian soldier. I was, that is.”

“Let’s get you out of here.” Oleksiy looked at Veronika. “Should we carry the chair or get a door for a stretcher?”

Before she could gather her wits the man said, “Neither. If you have mercy, hand me that pistol. Beside the frostbite, I’ve had these gut wounds for more than forty-eight hours.” He gestured at the ice pick lying on the adjacent table. The oozing, discolored punctures on his bloated belly were clearly visible. “I’m already done, dead, I know it, I feel it, I smell it. Hurts like shit. Smells like it, too. I can even taste it, taste death. It’s here. Only got a couple hours left, if that. I don’t want to suffer anymore. I’m done.” With visible effort, he raised his mottled face and looked at them with one red, glazed eye. “You’re young, kids. I’m sorry, you should never have to see anything like this. What are you doing here? You should be far away.”

“There’s a bunch of us, orphans, escaping. We don’t want to be adopted by orcs or otherwise trafficked. We’re looking for food.” Oleksiy was matter-of-fact.

“Right. You’re in a lot of danger. Now and later, worth a lot of money to the wrong people.” The man groaned, dropped his head, and ground his teeth. “The blue barn with the white rooster wind vane, past the last house at the other end of the street. Thirty meters north. A fallen tree. To the left, a dell. At the north end, in the brush, shallow. MREs. A lot. Some weapons and ammo.”

“They’re not needed?”

“No. I’m the last one. Take my boots. Over there, by the shelf. Find an officer. You have Danylko’s boots. Say: I love boots. Hear: I get my boots custom-made in Slovakia. Thanks a million for … killing those shits.” The soldier raised his head for a moment. It wobbled and fell back to his chest. “Now, hand me the pistol.”

“I can’t do it. I can’t.” Veronika looked at the others, tears seeping from her eyes. “But we can’t help him.”

Marynia said, “Are you sure, are you …”

“There’s no help anywhere near, not for this, and even if there were, there are checkpoints everywhere.” She bit her lips. “We’re too late.”

Oleksiy said, “I can do it. And I can stay here with you, Danylko. You won’t be alone.”

“No. You should go.” Danylko hissed in pain and then moaned between clenched teeth.

“You just saved a bunch of lives. Probably not for the first time. I’ve seen death before. It’s not a stranger and I’m not afraid of it. I’ll stay.”

“I can’t argue with you. I don’t have the strength or time. It has to be soon, before my fingers stop working.”

Veronika gathered the weapons. After knocking the rest of the broken glass from the high window, she handed them through to Grygoriy.

Marynia took a last survey of the room with her cellphone camera, grabbed the boots, and stuffed them in her backpack.

At the door, Veronika stopped. She whispered, “Goodbye. Thank you.” She cautiously backtracked through the house. In the backyard, she relieved Grygoriy and he returned to his post beyond the doghouse while Marynia slunk around the side to keep an eye on the street. Keeping her back to the house, Veronika knelt and used her mirror again.

Oleksiy sat across from the man, eyes shut, rifle propped nearby. He was praying.

Danylko began another prayer, asking for forgiveness, asking for care, help, and protection for his family, his people, his country. There was a moment of silence. “I’m ready. Stand to my right.” He managed to get his frostbitten finger through the guard of the pistol. Using both hands, he raised it and aimed.

Quietly stepping closer, Oleksiy gently supported Danylko’s shaking arm and hands with his own big, steady hands. “May the Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.”

Veronika closed the compact …

Bang.

She gasped and shuddered.

The light went out, and shortly afterward big feet thumped down the back stairs. Oleksiy wiped his eyes and said, “Have to go, fast. Need to leave-no-trace.”

Marynia’s unsteady voice drifted around the corner of the house. “Grygoriy and I are better at that. You and Veronika take the stuff and go to the barn. It’s where he said it is; we saw it. Meet you there.”

The gear rapidly disappeared into the wood; Oleksiy looked and sounded like an over-armored, human tank.

It was hard to see through the tears. Veronika followed as quickly as possible.

She ran with the last load. She knew the way by heart now. After a kilometer she slowed to a trot. Walk. Trot. Walk. Trot.

Oleksiy was waiting. “I found a few good spots to make separate stashes.” He wiped his face with a cloth.

“Not this time. When they’re done with leave-no-trace, Grygoriy and Marynia will head back to camp, get everyone and their backpacks. It’s too important to leave so close to, uh, what we just did.” She rubbed her eyes. “We’ll wait here. Let’s get started covering it up.”

She and Oleksiy were halfway done when the others arrived. Veronika explained the plan.

Marynia looked upset. “I know it’s important, but I don’t like leaving you here with those dead zwastikas so close.”

“We won’t do anything stupid; if more come, we’ll retreat.” Veronika sighed. “Please go now, hurry. You know the way back?”

“Yes. Just over there, follow the line of that field to the second belt and turn left on the far side. We’ll see you soon.” Marynia led off.

Veronika got back to work. The ensuing pile of branches, leaves, snow, and dirt was a sloppy job, but it would do for now. She jogged to a clump of brush about twenty meters away and scrambled under as Oleksiy scattered the trail. There was an excellent line of sight and a good retreat available out the other side. She was silent for a minute, listening. “How did you do it? How did you help Danylko like that?”

“It seemed like the right thing to do, to do what he wanted, what he asked for on his deathbed. I know a lot of people will think I just committed a huge-ass sin, but that’s between me and God. What he did is between him and God. None of anyone’s business.” He shrugged. “I’ve been at a few deathbeds. Some fight it, some are ready to go. My grandpa was ready, like Danylko was. He sent me away at the end not because he didn’t want me there but because I hadn’t finished the to-do lists. He was crabby about that in his sly way.” Oleksiy chuckled and smiled fondly. “Grandpa to the very end. I made sure I did every last thing he wanted and double-checked.”

“I can’t get over Anichka. And Mom and Dad. I just can’t. I can’t.” She gasped for breath and tried to control her shaking. Get a grip.

He looked at her for a moment, obviously confused. “Why should you? I can’t get over them and I didn’t even know them.” He sighed and adjusted his position slightly. “Fearing for my, Mykhailo’s, and everyone else’s lives and hating the deaths of innocent family and friends is not, um, not in the same class or group as not being afraid of death. I don’t know how to explain it. It doesn’t mean I want to die or that it’s all right with me if some scummy zwastika does away with me. Or that I’m not furious about this shit going on all around me.”

“After the bomb at the school, the grief, the pain, the suffering. And I just inflicted the same on other families, some other sisters, brothers, parents … How could I do it? How could I?” She wiped her eyes.

“Oh, I see. Kind of.” He was silent for a while. He sighed. “The orcs were torturing a Ukrainian soldier right in front of you, you know, after they killed your dad, mom, and little sister whose only crimes were being Ukrainians living in Ukraine. Trying to help their friends and neighbors get to a shelter because the orcs were bombing the hell out of all the grandmas who couldn’t get to their walkers in time. And the babies who couldn’t get out of their cribs.” Oleksiy’s jaw clenched, a muscle working, moving back and forth. He shook his head. “They did the same to my parents, took out the whole apartment because it was in their way. There were no survivors, not even in the shelter. There was no shelter. Just a huge hole in the ground.” He exhaled a long breath.

Veronika reached over and took his hand. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry. How many were … Oh, god.”

“No one will ever know for sure, but it was a lot. People from other buildings were there, too.” After a moment, he looked at her. “The only reason Borysko’s here is because his best friend, Anichka, was hugging him. Otherwise, he’d be dead too. And it never happened. As far as the butchers are concerned, Borysko’s a liar and a terrorist. Because the kindergartner remembers the bomb that blew up his house, his family. Bodies flying through the air at the school. His little friend landing on top of him. A liar and a terrorist. How fucked up is that? So it’s not the same. Cut yourself some slack.”

“How do you know that? That Anichka saved Borysko?” Veronika rubbed her head. The images flashed, stark, sharp, the black and white of a dark night, trails and smears of light, headlights and flashlights glaring. The light of fires coloring the clouds orange. All around. Above. She was trying to … Hold Mom … Put her back together … It wasn’t right … She shouldn’t be like that … It can’t be … Zlata dragged her away … Anichka, Anichka … More blood … Borysko. There was Borysko, underneath … “Who told you that?”

“Borysko did. He doesn’t know, doesn’t realize. But it’s pretty clear what happened.”

“I don’t want him to know. It’s too much right now, so don’t say it again. He can figure it out when he’s older. Or not.” Veronika wiped her eyes. “Oh, god, it’s so painful, hurts so bad. Still, I just … It’s not who …”

“I know Maksym’s rules as well as you, that we’re not police or soldiers. That’s not our job. Neither is justice or revenge. But I don’t know if I could have backed away, either. It’s just wrong as far as I’m concerned. But so is so much else in this war.” He made an incredulous face. “I didn’t have any trouble at all shooting the other three even though they weren’t torturing anyone that I know of.”

Talking with him wasn’t helping. She was even more confused than before. Her brain felt frozen, slushy. “Why did you? Why did you shoot them?”

“Because I had to. If I didn’t, I’d lead them and their trucks and tanks right back to the camp, to Mykhailo.” He shook his head emphatically. “They wouldn’t have given up, not after you shot them.”

“Shit.”

“I agree. But like I said before, never mind. It’s done. Except for you beating yourself up about it. If I ever get out of here, I’m going to find a nice quiet farm somewhere, I think. Grow cabbages. How about you?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t know. I can’t think at all right now. My head’s a mess. I was surprised you hit them, and the last one, through the fence like that. You’re a good shot.” Did she just say that? She did. How can she … sound normal? How can he?

“Everyone is surprised when I hit something, including me.”

She looked around the wood. Everything was quiet, calm. Normal. “Is it because of the extra training? What really happened with you and Antin that time?”

Oleksiy snorted and chuckled. “Well, I can’t talk about that yet. But Antin says I’m not the first person in history who completely forgot all training the minute it was needed. And no, the sessions didn’t make me a good shot, I just am for some reason. The extra training was to pound it into my thick head once and for all that the next time I forget, I won’t have one. He proved it multiple times every session.”

“Crap. I forgot, too. I’m in big trouble, aren’t I?” Veronika exhaled in a whoosh. “It never occurred to me not to shoot.”

“Yep.” He sighed in commiseration. “He also said that I’m much braver than is required for my future existence, to drop all thoughts of any military career, and that you and I are the worst possible team: Heroics Unlimited, LLC. If I didn’t like him so much, I’d be really offended about how he’s always right.” He looked around with the binocular. “This isn’t much use here. We should probably stop talking. If they’re coming, we’ll hear them from a long way away.”

How could he act like nothing happened? So calm and … practical. Like he was on a trip to the grocery store. What did he mean, heroics unlimited? She didn’t feel heroic. She was scared shitless and confused. But he was right. They needed to do their jobs. She listened to and watched the stillness surrounding them while her thoughts slowly chugged, churned, and slid by. It seemed like eons before the others arrived. She took a deep breath and crept out from under the bushes.

They joined her and Oleksiy by the pile. Antin and Myroslava dropped their backpacks plus two more, waved, and kept going.

“Let’s get this done.” Veronika tossed some branches away, opened her big backpack, and stacked MREs in the bottom. When it was full, she crammed more into her smaller scout pack and put it on her front. She looked around; Oleksiy was discussing the weapons with Maksym. He gestured for her to join them, and she trotted over. An open case lay on the ground. “I was wondering what was in there. That’s pretty awesome. Great-Auntie would be drooling.”

“Nice rifle.” Maksym nodded approvingly. “Heard about it, but haven’t seen one before. Is it worth it? Do you want it?”

Bako looked at Veronika. “You can really shoot one of those things? It looks bigger than you.”

She frowned at him. “Of course I can, especially if I actually want to hit something.” She flinched as the images flashed by. “I want a better look. I know we’re overloaded, but that’s a very useful weapon. And the accessories look super. Ammo?”

“Plenty. We’re taking the pistols, a few of the lighter rifles, and some other gear. If you’re ready, call in Antin and Myroslava.”

The twins glided to their packs and helped each other get them on.

“Oof. I’m glad this isn’t for too long. Where do we go?” Antin looked at Maksym and Myroslava.

“Marynia and I are vanguard. We need our best shots to the rear. Veronika and who?” Myroslava looked around.

Veronika immediately said, “Oleksiy, but he’s carrying too much.”

“I don’t have any more than I’m sure I can get back to camp, but it’s awkward.” He patted the bulging front pack that was forcing his chin up. “How about Maksym and a third, Antin? Leave-no-trace will be easier.”

Maksym said, “Done. Let’s go.”

Myroslava and Marynia slipped away. First owls. Grygoriy and Oleksiy followed with Priti and Bako close behind. Second owls. Antin led the rearguard. When he was out of sight, Veronika followed. Third owls.

She shrugged the heavy packs and rolled her shoulders, focusing on her breathing and trying to ease some of the tension in her back and neck. It wasn’t too uncomfortable, considering the haste. She scanned the rear with The Precious. She didn’t have to worry about anything else; Myroslava and Marynia were taking care of that. As she carefully backed down the trail, she passed the results of Antin’s expert work. He always made it look so easy. Between the two boys, the rearguard was hardly behind the center at all. No one spoke; no one needed to. Everyone knew what had to be done and what their part was. It was amazing how much she had learned about survival in so short a time. Tracking. Scouting. Maps. Building shelters. Fire. First aid. Clean water. Food. Meal planning. Would she ever go back to gymnastics? There was no support now. Mykola. He needed her. She couldn’t be at practice all day anymore. It really wasn’t something to think about now. Survive first. “Are you mad at me?”

“Indeed I am, but all I’ll say about that is you were very lucky that they were loafing around. I’d also like to kiss your boots.” Maksym smiled over his shoulder at her.

She tried to smile back. It felt really strange. “Why were they there? I mean, why there?”

“I can think of a few reasons off the top of my head. They don’t want an official record. They weren’t regular forces and didn’t want to hand over their prize. They didn’t think the man was important enough to take in. They didn’t have anything better to do and decided to indulge in some sadism. I have no idea whether or not any or all are true, but from what Oleksiy said, they weren’t, um … professionals of any kind. Being so off guard, yelling out, turning on lights, and inflicting mortal injuries on the subject are all pretty stupid. And it was obvious the man was never going to talk. They should have given up long ago.”

How could he chat about torture so calmly? It made her skin crawl. She was engulfed by her inner turmoil again. “Maksym, I didn’t think. I didn’t even think. I just aimed and pulled the trigger. Killed. Who am I? Who does that?”

“I can only tell you what I think, if you want.”

“All right, go ahead.” She braced herself.

“You are Veronika, the nice, popular girl from school, the hard-working, studious gymnast. The Veronika who, on her very first day of school, thrilled hundreds of little kids by taking down a bully twice her size on the playground. Why? Not because he was picking on her. She defended a stranger, someone she’d never even seen before. The extraordinarily brave Veronika, the Veronika who belongs to every club and organization that protects or promotes the helpless, the defenseless, the marginalized, the oppressed. The Veronika I’ve been extremely worried about because … Who defends and protects a helpless Ukrainian soldier from being tortured by orcs? Veronika does.” Maksym sighed, straightened, and turned to face her. “She doesn’t even think about it because that’s who she is.” He took a deep breath. “When I think how close we came to losing you tonight …” He rubbed his forehead. “I can’t ask it of you, but I will anyway. Please include Veronika among the many that Veronika defends and protects. Please.”

She was shocked. Even after what Oleksiy said, she hadn’t thought, didn’t think of herself that way. Had she considered her own safety? She had acted to protect herself, taking cover in the doghouse, but …

Maksym turned back to covering the trail. “As far as the rest goes, I think it’s something everyone needs to sort through for themselves. So, I don’t think it will help at all to tell you this, but maybe it will: I’ve had to shoot to kill. Mostly in the early days, before things were organized. Zlata and Grygoriy did, too.” He was silent for a moment. “Maybe you’ve never thought about what it’s like ordering you and the other kids to risk your lives, day after day after day. Asking Myroslava, a twelve-year-old for god’s sake, to lead, to scout. Who does that?” He shook his head. “Maksym does. One last thing. I promised my mom to put Larysa’s safety first. If not for that, I definitely would have shot those bastards if it had been me.”

“Did you really have to shoot in the early days?”

“Target practice. Like Myroslava and Antin, I was fairly certain that I was going to have to shoot to kill at some point, long before it actually happened. You were not, quite the opposite. You were lucky and a very fine scout. It never happened on your watch. That wasn’t a bad thing, not at all. It was a blessing.”

“Shit. I’m a dork. Of course you weren’t practicing.” What did that have to do with anything? She didn’t know. Her head was a horrible jumble, even worse than before. “My brain is just not working, not … connecting the dots. Are you saying, did you say that I’m the only one who hadn’t?”

“You and Priti and Bako. I’m sorry to welcome you to the Target Practice Club, and hopefully Bako and Priti will decide they don’t want to shadow after all. None of us like to talk about it, but it has to be documented, in detail, everything you can remember, what you thought, how you felt. You choose whether you to talk to me, Zlata, or Antin, so let us know when you’re ready. For your campfire story, I suggest that you found a dying Ukrainian soldier who told you about the MREs.” He turned and looked at her, concerned. “Are you good being rearguard? Would you rather move to the middle?”

“I’m hyper-alert. I’m just worried about myself. I don’t know who I am, or even if I ever did. It’s, uh, I don’t know … bizarre. I’m a stranger.” She took deep breaths again. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I’ve got too much to think about already. Thanks.”

“All right.” Maksym smiled. “You’re not a stranger to me. Never.” He turned away.

The rest of the journey was made in silence. Thick clouds scudded low in the dark sky. At last. The guards challenged. Veronika felt light-headed with relief as she looked around the camp. She was trembling.

Mykola was on guard with Zlata, and the other children were in bed. Marynia relieved him, and he ran. He hugged Veronika tight.

She hugged him even harder. “I’m all right, I’m all right. Help me with the backpack. It’s really heavy.”

“You made it, you made it back!” He helped slide the pack to the ground by the shelter and hugged her again, shaking. “I was so scared. What happened? No one said. Just that there was trouble and all the backpacks were needed.”

“I can’t talk now. I need a little time.” She steadied her voice. “It was bad. If you don’t mind too much, I’d like to sleep by you tonight. I know you don’t like that, but it would help.”

“I don’t care about that stuff anymore. Nobody does. I do like it, it makes me feel safe, but I’m not supposed to say things like that because I’m too big. I don’t care.” His voice quavered and a tear rolled down his cheek. “I don’t care anymore if I’m too big.”

“Thanks. It makes me feel safe, too.” Veronika rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes. Little Mykola. He was taller than she. When did that happen?

He buried redundant munitions by the mound of other unnecessary gear, and then examined the remaining inventory stacked neatly by the assigned backpacks. “It’s good. We’ll be able to move fast.” The sun was rising. “Who’s on?”

“Grygoriy and Marynia.” Myroslava dusted off her hands.

“Try to get a few more hours sleep. Antin and I are going to scout. Whenever we get back, we need to move.”

“We’re going to move by day?” Zlata looked up from her spreadsheets, surprised.

“Yes.” Maksym shrugged. “After the shooting, we have to go. And we’re heading into the country. There aren’t going to be roads or villages for a few days, just an isolated farm or two. After that, there’ll be a couple of tiny neighborhoods, but we’ll give them a wide berth if we can.” He looked at Antin. “Ready?”

“In a minute.”

He loped along at his favorite pace. The immediate area had recently been thoroughly reviewed; he could mostly ignore it. When he reached new territory he slowed. Time for The Precious. Maksym smiled to himself. It had never occurred to him to name gear. Antin and Myroslava were very funny. Bossy, the multi-tool pocket knife, would seldom agree that the appropriate tool could be used on any particular occasion without a long, fingernail-breaking argument. Felix, the lantern, beamed continuously and inappropriately at everyone. Antin had to stuff Felix in a dark bag on most nights, but when the question of Felix’s practicality was raised, the twins had looked at him as if he had suggested abandoning Viktoriya. Maksym chuckled to himself. Superficially gregarious, they were isolated. Fortresses, always on guard, especially Antin. As grateful as Maksym was for Bako and Priti, their arrival had caused the drawbridges to slam shut again. True, the twins had each other. That was something, a big something.

Switching back and forth between viewing options, he scanned the distant trees and shrubs while Antin zipped up a tree and unleashed the scope purloined from BFF, the new sniper rifle. There was a single outpost far to the southwest with a vehicle farther in, but it was impossible to tell what kind with the obstructions. The pace slowed to a careful trot; it was necessary to keep within the brush and wood as much as possible now. Maksym led to the north with regular forays to the east and west, trading the lead with his partner every few kilometers or so, comparing notes. Three hours. Time to head back. He jogged and thanked his lucky stars again for Antin. Beside Zlata, he was the only one who could keep up with Maksym and was a much better scout than she. Together, they covered the maximum amount of territory in the least amount of time. The brutal, terrifying time when Maksym had been the only scout seemed a distant memory; so many close calls, day after long, miserable day. Rounding the thick brush at the top of the slope, he saw that everyone was ready and waiting. Zlata was wonderful. She handed him a warm plate of something. She was fabulous, a goddess. He took a huge bite of whatever it was. “This one’s not too bad.”

She laughed. “A lot of them look much worse than they taste, but there was one that even Borysko refused. Grygoriy claimed that it looked and smelled like it had been previously rejected by multiple armies.”

He chuckled through his full mouth, finished the meal, took a long drink, and washed his hands and face with the remaining water. After ensuring all his gear was where it should be, he checked the signal detector on The Precious: no drones or other snoopy devices nearby. “How are the kids?”

“Happy about the cool soldier-food. The sooner we go, the better.” Zlata conducted a last inventory of the children’s backpacks. The youngest ones were known for ditching unnecessary items such as underwear and toothbrushes in favor of rock collections. “We’re ready.”

“Let’s go.” He joined Antin for the rearguard; it seemed strange to not shuffle the positions, but Myroslava was correct. No one needed training, and now was the time when everyone should be assigned to the jobs they do best. The well-oiled machine took off, and he slid into the routine like donning a favorite pair of slippers. They quickly left no trace through the first two fields and then caught up to the group. After the initial energetic two hours, the pace slowed. And slowed. Break-time. He notified Antin and headed up the line. Larysa ran over and hugged his arm. He kissed her forehead. “Good to see you. Is everything all right?”

“I wish I could walk with you for a while. It’s such a beautiful day.” His little sister pushed back her hood and looked up at him with her beautiful, dark eyes. The bright light glinted and sparkled on her long, black hair in its single braid.

In a few years, boys were going to be falling all over themselves. He sighed inwardly. He was not looking forward to her teenage years. “I would like that. I’m sorry I can’t. The roster says I don’t get any time off for a while.”

“I know.” She hugged his arm again and then let him go.

“I’ll see you later. Be good.” The kids knew they were going to move fast for a few days, but not that it was due to ever increasing danger. They were excited about being so close to freedom, full of energy. That was great, perfect. Maksym hoped it lasted through the hard times ahead.

Larysa rolled eyes at him as she rejoined Nadiya and Mykola.

Zlata smiled. “She seems to be recovering from the scouting trip.”

“I hope so. I talked with her about it again a few days ago. The gist of the conversation was that she’s not in a hurry to grow up anymore. I don’t know if that’s good, bad, normal, or what.” He flung his hands out and shrugged. “But she does seem happier than she’s been for a while, so I’m hoping it’s good. What do you think?”

After a pause, she said, “Maybe before, she wished you and she were closer in age. I wouldn’t worry about it for now.”

“You’re right. She used to. Thanks, that helps. How’s the hike going? How’s Viktoriya?”

“Doing remarkably well with the crutches and proud of it. I think we’ll be ahead of schedule.”

“Veronika?”

“As far as her job goes, she’s better than ever.” Zlata’s brows climbed her forehead. “Myroslava is thrilled and wishes Veronika had shot zwastikas much sooner. She has such an awful sense of humor sometimes. For the rest, Veronika’s working through it and isn’t obsessing anymore. She had to talk to Mykola about it because he knew there was something very wrong, and as young as he is, that’s actually turned out well. He’s been a big help and hasn’t said a word to the others, understands the dangers.”

Maksym was fairly certain that Myroslava wasn’t joking. “Mykola’s such a great guy; I don’t know what we would’ve done without him. He pitches in, never complains, doesn’t wait to be asked or told, gets things done, sets a good example. I was a selfish brat at his age.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m glad he’s been able to help. It just about killed me when Veronika sounded like she hated herself. I wanted to go back and shoot the assholes again for making her shoot them.” He cocked his head as faint birdsong sounded from the vanguard. The way was clear. “See you later.” He reached his spot just as it was time to move along.

Antin shot down from a tree.

He should say something. “You’re going to break a leg one of these days.”

“Feeling a little slow today? Of course I’ve broken my leg. A burrow gave way. Hurt like crap. These days, I check for burrows.” The boy gave his dense, declining elder a patient, kindly look.

“Wonderful, because no one is interested in hefting an Antin kidpack.” Grandpa stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I could probably talk Oleksiy into it for an hour or so. He’s pretty nice.”

The vision of Oleksiy trotting across Ukraine with an Antin kidpack was obviously highly repugnant. The mouthy little tweenie shuddered. “Thanks for the reminder. We can’t afford any injuries.”

“It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but it will certainly wreak havoc upon the roster which will make Myroslava mad as hell.”

“Ooh, that’s so tempting. Nah, there should only be one broken leg in the family at a time. I’ll be extra careful from now on.” Antin finished stowing his gear and ambled ahead.

“Tell Zlata to assign more guards and then catch up.” Maksym raced into the wood at the correct angle to intercept the scouts’ trail, slowing when he found it. On and on. He eventually heard Antin’s small sounds nearby. On and on, following the signs of passage, small boots in soft soil, here, there, to the left. The trail suddenly vanished. He stopped. He could still follow it either with The Precious or by spotting the code of gouged tree bark and twisted, folded branches and sticks, but he shouldn’t. What had alarmed them? Cutting north, he spotted a good lookout and belly-crawled to the edge of the wood with The Precious. Nothing.

“She heard something.”

“Right.” Myroslava wouldn’t be concerned with anything to the south. Any danger was closer to the road and rail corridor, within the west-to-north quadrant. Maksym scrambled back and crossed to the south side of the wood belt before following it west. It soon ended in a perpendicular strip of woodland and he turned south. Snoopy devices, signals detected. After ten minutes, he cut in and slowly worked his way north. Another kilometer. Another. Where the hell were they? Another. Was he going to have to go back and follow the trail after all? Snoopies, close by. Slow quiet steps, deep shadow to deep shadow, keep near as many obscuring obstacles as possible. He stopped. The orc was leaning up against a tree with his cellphone. It looked like he was playing a game. What a guy.

He motioned Antin forward.

After a few minutes, the orc suddenly and soundlessly disappeared.

So did Antin. Where did he go, that rascal? Ah. The nice, healthy evergreen up ahead with the great view was trembling oh-so-slightly. Maksym carefully climbed up. When he was as high as was safe, he quietly removed a few of the smaller branches with the little saw.

Fuck. A tank, way the hell off road. Bad news, really bad news. No wonder Myroslava was alarmed. The turret was facing east and the hatch was up. Where was the slacker crew? Over there, with the group surrounding Myroslava and Veronika.

The girls were disarmed but not bound, sitting by the eastern edge of the clearing. They were chatting with the orcs, and from the looks of things, the clueless globs were well on the way to being wrapped around little fingers. They would probably grant the girls mascot status any minute.

The contents of the scout packs were scattered over the tank, but there was nothing personal in them, just generic, identical survival gear. The girls’ cellphones would only display the usual preteen texts, games, websites, selfies, and that they were currently lacking any service. An orc was putting the gear back in the bags, minus any weapons. He tossed the packs to some other orcs who handed them back to Myroslava and Veronika. The girls were delighted and then appeared to be arguing about which was whose for a few moments before beaming admiring smiles at the orcs.

Who was in charge? Maksym studied the scene. Where was the rest of the unit? According to The Precious, nowhere near. Since they had bothered to post a guard at all, there were probably a few more orcs around the perimeter. He focused the signal detector and then switched to thermal. “Can you find a tree to the north-northeast? North guard is currently using a cellphone. East guard is quiet, screened, hard to detect.”

“I don’t see why not. I’m not too happy with the filthy pests, swiping my sister like that. And I’m relieved you’re planning on doing something about it instead of leaving it all up to me, friend.”

Maksym ignored the tone; Antin was on the verge of his worst nightmare being realized. “I know as well as you that we’re screwed if the girls don’t get the hell out of there. This is the granddaddy of bad situations. If you want, we can wait and see if they can do it, just let them know we’re here.”

Antin shook his head. “Now is better than later. Every second, something could go wrong. Orders?”

“I want you to start with whoever is near them and then keep it up, relentless, all attention on you until you’re sure they’re gone. Then get the hell back here with them. Don’t forget there’s noise between us. Loud birds.”

He picked and prioritized his targets carefully, slightly adjusting his position for a wider range. He wasn’t a great shot. Should he insist on hitting a target or just work his way down the list? It depended on the target. Top five, hit for sure, the rest were negotiable. Antin seemed to be taking a very long time. Just as he was getting really worried, Maksym heard the right owl call from the correct direction. He double-checked to make sure that the girls were out of the lines of fire, cleared his throat, and issued a long series of hoots in return. There were a few glances in the direction of the unusually noisy owl, but attention swiftly returned to the captives.

Myroslava wiped her eye with surreptitious salute, and Veronika nodded as she clasped her hands over her heart and reverently gazed up at the zwastika who was holding forth about something.

He waited, watching. No hurry, no rush. Top target moving, moving, perfect, now. He called.

Antin shot orcs.

The girls stole rifles. Of course they did. They scrambled into the brush.

Maksym shot the leaders, anyone who was looking his way, lights, communications equipment, and an orc who was contemplating launching a rocket in Antin’s direction. He held his fire.

The orcs took cover on the south side of the tank while a grenade flew through the air from the east. Then another. It bounced off the open hatch and into the tank.

Shit, Myroslava! Of course you stole grenades. Would you just leave already? Get out of there! Get!

Maksym made himself as small as possible behind the tree trunk. The explosions took out some of the orcs, but a good number had managed to save themselves since the first grenade had fallen well short of the group and the second was semi-contained. The tank probably wasn’t going anywhere soon without a few repairs to the interior.

Captivated by Antin’s fierce barrage—he had obviously managed to acquire another rifle or two—none of the remaining orcs seemed to know that any enemies were southwest. They were focused on the north and east, and it took them a while to notice that they weren’t being shot anymore.

He stayed still and silent behind the trunk. Eventually, he heard the stealthy sounds of Antin and Myroslava climbing the tree while Veronika stayed on the ground to protect the retreat.

He watched the leftover orcs having a freak-out about what to do next. Retreat, you boneheads. The fools didn’t retreat. Oh, well. “Antin, highest up takes the farthest. Myroslava, closest. I’ll handle the middle.” Maksym waited patiently. It looked like some were going to come around to the south side, make a dash for the rocket launcher, yes, here they come, others shooting covering fire at the northeast. Perfect. “Now.”

Shots rang out in quick succession.

No orcs moved.

He patted the tree trunk. “Thank you.” There was no way to check for false negatives; time was more important. If there were any live zwastikas, they seemed uninterested in tracking little girls anywhere. “Let’s go. To the south, follow our trail here. Myroslava lead, stay close, Veronika cover the rear while we leave no trace.” After an hour of silence, he glanced back at Antin. “What took you so long?”

“East orc was actually paying attention, so I cut behind, took care of north first, double-checked west—no guard, but signs of one—and scouted the position I wanted. East took a little longer.”

“Veronika, do you feel like reporting?”

“Sure.” She sighed. “There was an orc with some skills and equipment to match. From what Antin said, probably the west guard. He found a little ditch, and I missed him. Before I knew what was happening, I had a gun to my head. Myroslava was superb, no hesitation. You’d think someone had just snatched a three-year-old’s favorite lollipop.” She assumed a sweet, high, over-emphatic voice. “‘What are you doing? We’re playing here. You go play somewhere else.’” Her voice returned to normal. “And she held the rifle by the barrel in her left hand and swung it around. I almost laughed. I followed her lead: ‘Ow! Ow! You’re hurting me! Who are you? This is our wood.’ And then, ‘Oooooh. You’re a real soldier? Oooooh.’ Orc was expecting enemy agents and wound up with a couple of brownie scouts sneaking out the window at night with their cousins’ gear to play army in the wood. The orcs in camp were laughing so hard that they didn’t bother searching us, so they never found the pistols. It wouldn’t have mattered. We would have asked them if we had them on right, or do they go somewhere else. They tried to find out where we’re from, but we don’t know north from south and we’re not from around here. Over there somewhere, maybe, no that way, uh-uh, the other way, is not, is too, just arrived, staying with auntie and uncle most-common-names who just moved here because they’re rashists, and they’re going to be really mad, we’re in so much trouble! We tried to get them to leave our stuff alone, claiming that we’re going to be grounded forever if we don’t bring it all back, but no luck there. And of course, we don’t know the correct name of anything: bullet holders, doohickeys, and thingamajigs.” She snorted. “It’s amazing how the twins manage to look so innocent all the time.”

Myroslava’s voice floated back from the front. “Veronika’s a pro, so natural, so normal. She did it all, really. In retrospect, I should have known since she’s been competing for years.”

 Veronika sounded amused. “Yes, there have been quite a few sessions of professional charm training, not that I needed it. You came across as overawed. Just as good. Anyway, the orcs are going to be digging in through this entire stretch of wood.”

Maksym thought for a moment. “Do you know if they reported in?”

Myroslava said, “Not that we heard, and I don’t think they mentioned us if they did, but I can’t be sure. Leader didn’t really want to get us or our zwastika cousins in trouble, so he was waiting, hoping the cousins would track us down and drag us off so he didn’t have to deal with it.”

“It’s possible that any survivors have no idea who threw grenades, but your prints are there, and there are probably pictures on someone’s phone. They may never notice, may never put it together, or may just conclude the scared-as-shit little brownie scouts ran off into the night, but we’ll assume otherwise.” Maksym cleared his throat. “I’d like to take the opportunity to mention that my orders didn’t include stopping to steal rifles and throwing grenades.”

“Well, you didn’t specifically prohibit it, either.”

“I thought you forgot that part, you know, stressed out or whatever, because of course you would tell us to throw grenades and steal rifles if you were thinking clearly.”

Maksym grunted. Ungrateful wretches. “How the hell did you manage to get one in the tank?”

“Because I wasn’t trying to. I was trying to throw over the tank, but I’m not good enough. I was so surprised I almost forgot to take cover.”

Antin said, “It was truly awesome. I almost fell out of the tree. Any other news?”

“The fields are still too muddy for most heavy equipment, slows it down too much, but that won’t be for long now,” said Veronika. “They aren’t doing anything particular here, just spreading gear out and hiding it so it’s not a big, fat target. They tried to downplay their unimportance, but it seemed pretty clear that they’re not allowed anywhere near a battlefield. They’re the zwastikas who stay behind and shoot peacefully protesting citizens.”

Maksym stood upright and stretched for a moment, envisioning the troop movements on the maps in his head. “They probably had no idea where they’re going. I can’t guess, there are too many equal targets from here, and I don’t think it matters to us as long as we didn’t piss them off too much. We’ll know in a few hours.” He sighed and got back to work.

“Thanks a million for rescuing us. If our icky relatives didn’t show up, they were going to send us to headquarters in the morning when the rest of the unit arrived. That would’ve been a very serious problem for everyone once dear Daddy got wind of it.” Myroslava paused for a few moments. “One of the tents was in a good spot for sneaking out a hole in the back. I considered pretending fatigue. What do you think?”

He probably shouldn’t encourage a twelve-year-old kid to throw grenades even though she obviously didn’t require any inspiration. “It was the best option if you couldn’t wheedle them into letting you go. However, from what I saw you were likely to run headfirst into an orc coming from the other direction.”

Veronika made a rude noise. “You’re right about that. One of the tank crew was a serious perv. The creep could barely keep his hands out of his pants while drooling over us.”

“There seems to be a large number of pervs in that army of saviors. Makes me wonder what life is like in their hometowns.” Maksym looked back at her. “How are you?”

“I’m all right. I’m glad I didn’t have to shoot, but I definitely would have. I won’t let those monsters hurt me, Mykola, or anyone else anymore if I can stop them. That’s the bottom line.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

He nodded in resignation. “If it were up to me, I’d take you off the scout-forager schedule. But I’m pretty sure Myroslava and Zlata would veto that.”

“You got that right. She’s not foolhardy. It’s a risk we have to take,” said Myroslava.

“I’m glad you brought up foolhardy. Was there something wrong with retreating when you suspected there might be a tank or multiple-rocket launcher near?”

A loud, wet raspberry floated away from the front. “Yes, there was, and you know it. We have to know if we can use the fields or whether we have to stay entirely to cover. It changes everything, so don’t try to give us a guilt-trip for doing our jobs! I’m sorry you were scared shitless, but so were we.”

“All right, already. Don’t blow your stack. I’m just suggesting that next time you come back and get The Precious and maybe some backup before you go investigate tanks.” Maksym rolled his eyes at Antin who made an exasperated face back.

“Fine. I’ll admit it. I already chewed myself out about it any number of times. Thank the stars, your camp urchin advice worked like a charm.” Myroslava sounded glum. “Whew, I’m glad that’s over.”

“Me, too. I want you to go ahead with Veronika, get the camp ready to move. I think it’s safe enough for now. What’s the campfire story?”

“Let’s see.” Veronika handed The Precious back to him. “We had to hide in a culvert, the loitering orcs were eventually distracted by explosions to the west, we escaped and met up with you about ten minutes later, and you want to move camp because we’re too close to the action over there. See you soon.”

He checked in with The Precious and then worked in silence for a few moments. “What would you have done?”

Antin laughed. “I would’ve stolen a grenade and lobbed it somewhere when they weren’t looking.”

“Yes, you would. I’m surprised Myroslava didn’t. I wonder how she got her hands on two.” He chuckled, glad to hear Antin sounding more like his insouciant self. The boy seldom spoke of the journey from Mariupol and when he did, he made it sound like a lark. But Maksym knew better.

“I’ll be surprised if it was just two. They had gear strewn all over, so many tempting opportunities. If the orcs had asked her to take off her coat and boots, I bet all sorts of crap would’ve fallen out. Distraction grenade was probably on her to-do list.”

“I’d better search her first thing when we get back. But it sounds like a suicide mission to me. Where could she have thrown one and not get taken out herself?”

“Oh, now. Neither of us are in favor of that sort of thing. She’d have her safe spot worked out, almost certainly in the tank. You can’t leave a tank lying around like that if Myroslava’s near.”

Maksym mentally reviewed the scene at the enemy camp and laughed. “She definitely had her eye on it and a clear path. Holy shit, Myroslava joyriding with a tank.” He looked around the wood again. “I think we can leave off here. Let’s get back.”

Closer and closer. Yet another gray, drizzly day with minimal visibility. The kids trudged down the muddy lane under the grizzly sky, quiet and subdued after a long, damp trek that began in the wee hours. A faint, clanking noise drifted sluggishly through the clammy air from the lonely farm several fields to the east. He decided to take a look and notified Antin.

Through the binocular, the door to the equipment building was wide open, and an older man had a big tiller taken apart. A grinder stood ready nearby. Maksym considered. In the end, he decided to check for news about this neck of the woods, play it by ear. He trotted over the field, strolled across the farmyard, and stopped in the doorway. Something smelled really good. A little loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, and a beer stood ready on a workbench nearby. His mouth watered as he knocked on the wall.

The farmer glanced up. After a moment he said, “That’s some mighty fine gear you’ve got.”

“That’s a mighty fine loaf of bread you’ve got.”

The man straightened and inhaled deeply. “Mmm-mmm-mmm. That it is, that it is. Where are you from?”

“Near Berdyansk.”

“Why aren’t you joining the Territorial Defense?”

Maksym hesitated. The tractor had a custom paint job, blue and yellow. He decided to trust his judgment. “There’s someone I have to get to safety first, then I have to lie about my age. But I’m not sure I should because the person needs me. Safety might not be enough. I have to think about it.”

The man nodded. “My three boys are on the eastern front. They say they dream of Mom’s fresh-baked bread every night.” He examined Maksym. “I could use some more ammo for my rifles.” He twitched his head at the empty hooks over the workbench. “Keep them put away these days.”

“There’s more than a few of us avoiding deportation. How much and what kind of ammo do you need?”

“Ah. Well, good thing today’s baking day. That’s a little joke. Around here, every day is baking day. I need .22 and .308, just what you can spare. But why do you have that second pistol? You ambidextrous or something?”

“I didn’t want to leave it lying around for the orcs to find. It’s not fancy, but it’s a good one. Almost like it wants me to shoot something.”

The farmer stroked his chin. “I could do with some backup. Orcs have been through here a few times. They eat all my cookies, drink my beer, and steal weird things. I had to ask: Why do you want to come all this way to steal a smart TV? Didn’t any of your neighbors back home have one you could steal? We never watched it anyway, we like to listen to our old records on the phonograph, but still, it was a gift from our boys! Some people have no manners! Be right back.”

Keeping watch, Maksym removed the holster. He left the clips and magazines in his vest alone, shrugged off his backpack, and removed the heavy container from the bottom compartment.

After a long while, the farmer returned carrying a large, green, plastic bag by its single strap. “The boss thought I was driving too hard a bargain, so she put in tins of muffins, cookies, and my cake! You can’t have my cake, I’m taking it out of there.” He fumbled with the buckle.

“I kiss her feet.” Maksym wanted to dive headfirst into the bag, it smelled so good.

“In that case, you can have it.” The man refastened the flap as he examined the gun and pile of ammunition. “Done deal. The boss is looking forward to trying out her new pistol. Thanks.”

“Thank you, and thank the boss for me. There’s going to be a lot of very happy people tonight.”

“Glad to hear it. You take care now.”

“You, too. Thanks again.” Maksym carefully hoisted the treasure and jogged away. The return journey was a blur as his totally unreasonable stomach threatened to mutiny if the delectable items were withheld one more second and the entrancing whiffs brought forth memory after memory of previous ecstatic occasions of gastronomic abundance.

Antin stepped from behind some bushes and scowled. “I’m glad you’re back. Zlata was annoyed, so I have to beat you up, you clod. She said—” He jerked to a stop as if he had run into a wall. “What the devil is that?” His stomach growled while he inhaled deeply and eyed Maksym as if he were indeed contemplating combat.

“Another stroke of fortune. It almost makes me nervous.” Maksym knelt and opened the bag, making sure no rain got inside. “Zlata said?”

“Um. Hmm. Said that the kids are getting really cranky and can’t go on much longer.” Antin was obviously fascinated by the bag, unable to tear his eyes away.

“Local news is that zwastikas do regular patrols, but are leaving the farmers alone. I guess they don’t have anyone to replace them with, yet.” Reaching through the plastic wrapped loafs of bread, Maksym shook the tins at the bottom slightly, one after the other. Ah. The cookies. He handed over the round, colorful tin and secured the flap. “That should help and there will be more treats for anyone who refrains from whining.”

“I’ve never whined in my life, not once. I’ll be right back.”

Maksym fisted his hands on his hips and loomed. “Stop right there. I know you. Hand one over. Now.”

Antin gave him a poisonous look, opened the tin a crack, and snitched a cookie. “I’d better check and make sure they’re all right first.” He stuffed it in his mouth and closed his eyes, enraptured. “Mmm. Chocwate spwinkulz.”

“Ahem. Don’t make me kill you.”

“Mmm, mall wight, malweady.” Antin rolled his eyes as he handed over the tin. “Thywant.”

“It’s like some kind of drug. I feel high just smelling it.” He took a tiny nibble. “Mmm, mmm. Coconut pecan.”

“You look a little tired today. Want me to take that bag for you?”

“Go away.”

“Fine.” Antin snatched the tin and ran to catch up with the gang.

Maksym walked slowly, savoring the treat. He made a mental note to send flowers to the boss of baking every year. Every month, even. He hoped her boys made it home safe someday.

“Maybe sugar before bedtime isn’t a good idea.” Priti watched the little ones career around the camp.

The middle kids played a game by the fire that involved a lot of shrieking, yelling, and laughing. The guards had moved much farther out since it was impossible to hear any enemies over the racket.

Zlata smiled. “Five minutes before they all start keeling over. It’s been a very long day.”

Marynia frowned at Maksym. “This was your idea.” She seemed disinclined to partake of Zlata’s optimism.

He shrugged innocently but inwardly agreed that something would have to be done soon. The ruckus could probably be heard in Kyiv.

Yaryna suddenly gave a huge yawn, lay down, and went to sleep.

“Huh.” Marynia scooped up the very muddy, limp baby and vanished into the shelter.

One by one, the kids were put to bed. Borysko insisted that he wasn’t tired until he fell backward off the log.

“All right, young bull. There’s nothing so interesting going on that you need to break your head.” Maksym picked him up and headed to the potty-place.

“It’s more better than sleeping.” The little boy’s stubborn lower lip made its appearance.

“I’d rather sleep than wash dishes. What do you want to do? Wash dishes or clean mud off stuff?”

“Oh. I’m sleepy.” Borysko rubbed his eyes, adding smears to his splattered face.

“I thought so.” Maksym held him steady by his hood while he peed and then carried him to the fire. He gave the kid a quick wipe with the not-pristine cloths steaming on the small clothesline and passed him through the opening to Zlata who was doing her best to prevent all the mud from getting into the shelter. He checked the time. Four hours. After a skimpy clean-up, he crawled into the small tent; he didn’t feel like slinging a damp hammock. Myroslava, Antin, and Veronika were already there and muttered a few sleepy, crabby complaints as he squeezed in. Forcing his attention away from the route and to-do lists, he focused on relaxing. Mmm. Breakfast. The boss had also slipped a tub of farm butter and a round of heavenly cheese into the goody bag. Sweet dreams.

His eyes flashed open.

Antin was putting on his boots.

Maksym donned his footwear and scrambled out. The gray skies had departed. The night was clear and cold. That was good; the gear would dry faster. He yawned, stretched thoroughly, and looked around. Next to the extinguished fire was a mysterious lump, and he was drawn forward like a bee to honey. In the cookie tin were slices of buttered bread and cheese. “Yum.”

Antin appeared at his elbow. He had on his scouting backpack, along with his vest, harness, and gear belt. “Oh, you found my breakfast! I wonder where yours is.”

The rightful owner slammed the lid shut before Antin’s encroaching fingers could filch anything. “Twelve-year-olds don’t get breakfast. Everyone knows that they can survive for weeks on a couple of the stale potato chips and cans of soda stashed under their beds, and—”

“Don’t make us drag Bossy into this.” Myroslava materialized at Maksym’s other elbow.

Across the fire pit, Veronika was preparing to launch, her narrowed eyes calculating the trajectory.

Maksym stuffed the tin into his coat. “I don’t see why anyone thinks I’m going to share my breakfast with a bunch of bottomless pits, especially that one.” He pointed with his chin at Veronika.

Grygoriy’s voice came from the shadows. “I don’t see why a bunch of bottomless pits think our supper is their breakfast.” He planted his fists on his hips.

Oleksiy crossed his arms over his chest.

Maksym waved off the falsehood. “Nah, supper was hours ago. Sorry you missed it.”

“Hand it over or I’m going to tell Zlata on you.” Oleksiy was smugly superior.

“Snitch!”

“Traitor!”

“Thug!”

“You would be so cruel?”

“Yes, I would, and then some.” The big thug nodded enthusiastically. “Zlata specifically said bread and cheese for the guards in the cookie tin by the fire pit. So there.” He stuck his tongue out at them. “Did she even mention breakfast to you?”

The scouts glanced guiltily at each other.

“Fine.” Maksym reluctantly relinquished the swag and slunk dejectedly to the gear pile, arms dangling.

Grygoriy called, “We’re going to restart the fire and make grilled cheese sandwiches.”

“Sadist!”

Veronika sighed. “It’s a fine lesson about teamwork. If we hadn’t wasted time arguing, we would’ve been finishing off the last crumbs before those slackers showed up.”

“It’s all his fault, that hog.” Myroslava gave Maksym a dirty look as she retrieved her scout pack from under the tarp.

Maksym found his backpack in the proper place, reached into the top compartment, and pulled out a cloth-wrapped rectangle. “I snuck a huge piece of cake when Zlata wasn’t looking. I didn’t agree with her plan of wasting it all on Borysko and crew after I risked my life for it.” He tore off a chunk and handed it to Myroslava. “She seems to have some very odd ideas about the nutritional needs of scouts.” He gave pieces to Veronika and Antin.

“You’re an angel! No one could have a better teammate.”

“Exemplary, impeccable morals.”

“A guiding light leading young souls through the wilderness of liver and anchovies.”

“I kind of like dried anchovies.”

“You don’t think they look like mummified centipedes from under your bed?”

“Ugh, did you have to say that?”

“Why are there mummified centipedes under her bed?”

“Don’t look at me, she’s not my fault.”

“Zlata’s going to scalp Maksym next time she looks in the tin.”

“Bummer.”

“We’ll take up a collection for his new wig.”

“Last bite. Mmm. Unbelievable.”

“As good as the first.”

“That’s better.” Maksym licked his fingers and moved his bath kit to the scout pack. He would take care of that on the run; they were already behind schedule. “Antin and I are northwest, six hours?”

“That’s right, see you soon.” Myroslava disappeared between bushes.

“You and The Precious are lead.” Maksym hung his binocular around his neck and handed over the scope. “Ready?”

“Almost.” Antin turned away and took a few steps into the deeper shadows. There was a zipping sound. “Aaahhh. That’s better.”

“Hmm. Me, too.” Maksym glanced around to make sure that neither Zlata nor Marynia, the current guards, were in evidence. Marynia in particular cut boys no slack for their slovenly habit of urinating wherever.

Antin vanished into the gloom.

Maksym checked his rifle. Birdsong. Another long day, begun.

There was nothing unusual under the starry skies as he zigzagged around the fields, following Antin’s trail through the hedgerows and wood belts. Except the stars themselves. They were glorious tonight. Not as much light pollution these days. He would enjoy it while he could; the flotillas of clouds would be back soon. Hours passed in the usual routine. Soft hoots: Caution. Antin was in the next field. He reached him in a few minutes and leaned against the tree. “What’s up?”

“Orc swarm.”

He steadied the binocular on a branch. After a long while, he was rewarded. Shadows moving among shadows. He slowly scanned. The view was at the far edge of the binocular’s capabilities. “Looks like a big one. Swap.”

Antin clambered down and handed over The Precious.

He focused the scope. Big encampment. Loads of chatty devices, none of which were moving in their direction. Antin had already intercepted samples; storage was close to capacity. Artillery in the fields, mostly facing toward the town and roads. “We’ve come pretty far west. My lead. Slow and easy does it.” After passing through the belt, he began the long, painstaking process of working his way east, keeping to cover. He spotted an outpost in the wood by an outlying village. After that, there were only empty fields. He checked his bearings and the time. Two hours left. He picked up the pace heading south, zigzagging to the west and back whenever the opportunity arose. For the last stretch, he raced straight down the east side of the wood; Veronika and Myroslava were waiting at the rendezvous. Maksym bent over to catch his breath, hands upon his knees.

“You were almost late. Report?” Veronika was obviously uninterested in the heroic effort to avoid being tardy.

Antin floated in and came to a graceful stop.

“Ask Hermes of the winged feet. I haven’t caught my breath yet.”

With an insulting lack of physical distress, Hermes said, “We went a long way west. Big problems. Northwest to north, everything’s good for a march. Then we have to earn our cake again. If there’s any left. How are things over there?”

“There’s a burned out farm a couple of fields off-route. All the enemy cows, sheep, and chickens were thoroughly annihilated. Other than that, nothing to report. Everything’s quiet and there’s great cover. But I’m nervous.” Myroslava knocked some mud off her boots against a tree.

“Do you know why?”

“The advantage of being behind enemy lines is that it’s not the front. It’s all around us now, closing in. Activity, everywhere. The animals were skittish before, now they’re either gone or keeping to deep cover. It feels tense.” She sighed. “Oh, well. We’re as prepared as we can be. Ready?”

“Do you suppose there’s bread and cheese waiting?” Antin sounded anxious.

Maksym straightened up. “Only if Zlata hasn’t looked in the cake tin yet.”

Veronika gasped. “We’d better hurry.”

“Yet another day.” Maksym rubbed his beard. He wished he could shave. Having an extra mat of hair that needed to be kept clean was annoying.

“It’s hard to believe we’re so close.” Zlata looked up from the loaf she was slicing. The sun came out from behind a cloud and her golden hair lit up as if it had been plugged into a socket.

His mouth was watering. He would be fine gnawing on the delicious, half-circle of perfection, but she was particular about how bread should be served. “Blessings upon the boss. That’s the best bread and butter I’ve ever had.”

She smiled. “When this is over, I’m going back to beg for recipes and lessons.”

His vest pocket vibrated again which was unsurprising. Today was a perfect day to launch all sorts of snoopers. He double-checked the silent mode and signals maps. The location was well screened and the fire was out cold; anything would have to be directly overhead or practically upon them to spot them, but with all the new activity it was probably a good idea to have a quiet day. He looked around, automatically taking a headcount. “Where’s Yaryna?”

“Katryna, where’s Yaryna?” Zlata stood and walked to the shelter.

“She was just there!” Katryna whirled around in a panic. She ran. “Yaryna! Yaryna! Where are you?”

Maksym darted after and grabbed her back. “No, Katryna, don’t. Be quiet now, we’ll find her. Where did you last see her?”

“There, over there by the bush. She went to play with Borysko and Ayana and Dalila. She was happy.” The amber eyes were huge and she was hyperventilating. She covered her mouth with both hands.

He checked with the guards.

They shook their heads.

He waited until Zlata finished looking in the shelter and tents.

She shook her head.

He patted Katryna’s shoulder. “We’ll find her. Go sit down by Grygoriy and Bako, try no to be so upset.” He gently turned her in the right direction and then strode over to the little ones. “Where did Yaryna go? Did you see which way?”

Dalila looked up from the toy animals and shook her head.

Ayana said, “She didn’t want to play zoo. Look, the zebra and giraffe are friends.”

“I see that. That’s very good. Borysko, did you see where Yaryna went?”

The toy soldiers continued the battle for a few moments. Borysko gazed up at him. “No. I heard.” He looked over his shoulder. “She went that way. There was a bird? Something pretty. Pretty, pretty. I heard from that way.” He looked up again. “She should come back now. It’s time to eat.”

“You’re right. I’d better go get her.” Maksym stepped into the brush, studying the ground.

Veronika appeared next to him, pale and distraught. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how it happened.”

“It’s not your fault.” He passed The Precious to her. “Wake up Antin and Myroslava, they’re conked in the big evergreen, give the scope to them, get back, and sound the alert without alarming the kids. Be ready for anything.”

He readied his rifle, smiled cheerfully at Zlata, and jogged out of camp. They had partnered many times, almost nonstop in the early days. She knew what to do. She would keep back so he could hear without distraction and she would stroll into the wood, rearguard. No hurry, no worry.

“We’ll be right back. Yaryna can’t have gone too far.” Her voice faded away.

But the baby could have. After weeks of marching and outdoor living, she could walk much farther and faster than the average three-year-old. Maksym trotted onward, eyes on the trail. He wished he knew how long Yaryna had been missing. Down this slope. Around that tree. Where now? Trampled, dead grass between the bushes.

He froze for a fraction of a second. Engines. He ran, crashing through the brush. Louder. Across the field. Birdsong: Go back. Run away. Go back, go back. Run away. Through more bushes. Trees. There. Bushes. There. Clumps of dead grass. Here. Little boot prints. There. Louder. Trees. Here. More trees. There. Here. Here. Here. Here she was. On top of the toddler slide next to the barn, clutching a kitten.

“Kitty!” Yaryna smiled her beautiful, loving, trusting smile.

Maksym ran.

Zwastikas poured around the side. Yelling. Aiming.

Little Yaryna in the line of fire. “The baby! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” He raised his hands high in the air, throwing the rifle far away. “Children! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”

Yaryna’s head exploded.

White, wispy clouds floated in the bright blue sky. They seemed so close. He could touch them if he tried.

So close. So far. Yaryna. So very far away. Larysa. Mom. Dad … I love you … I’m sorry … The sky is so blue today … He closed his eyes …

Yaryna. Oh, Yaryna. Oh, my god, no, please, no … Little love … No, no, no … Please, no … The baby slid head-first, face-down to the bottom of the bright yellow slide in a river of blood.

Zlata dived behind a tree and crashed to the ground, burying her face in her arm. She put the pistol to her temple. Was it worth it? Was anything worth living for? What … Yes! Yaryna had been worth living for! And dying for! Krystiyan. What … Get up! Move! Now! She lowered the pistol and scrambled to her feet. Yaryna could not be alive. Maksym could be. Larysa. Krystiyan. She gasped for air, doubled over. What … did he say? When she was running. The birdsong. She couldn’t hear it. The birdsong. What, what … To leave him. Go. Now. Run! Save them!

Myroslava flashed by, carbines in each hand, Veronika leaped over a log with BFF, and farther away through the trees, Antin was a glimpse, a suggestion.

She ran after them for a few paces. “No! No! Come back!” She sounded the retreat.

Shots ricocheted in her ears.

She raced back through the wood, trees flashing past, branches scoring her face. The sounds of battle faded behind her, drowned out by the pounding of her heart keeping time with the rhythmic thumping of her feet. Run! Run! She crashed through the bushes. Run. Fast. Run. Across the field. Around the bushes. Faster. Run. Fields. Grass. Bushes. Trees. Faster. Faster. Run away. Up the slope. Run away. Through the bushes. “Abandon camp! Abandon camp!”

Marynia and Oleksiy were frozen. Priti and Bako were shocked and confused.

Krystiyan flew over and hugged her. “What’s happened? I’m so scared. Where is everyone?”

Bako said, “The twins flew through here like bats out of hell, then Veronika took off. What’s happened? Where are Maksym and Yaryna? We thought we heard shots.”

An explosion shook the air. The little ones screamed and fell to the ground, sobbing, terrified. Close, so close. Then another. The ground rumbled. Krystiyan crouched and covered his head. Viktoriya shook like a leaf on her crutches. She fell, and Oleksiy raced over and scooped her up.

Zlata couldn’t explain. “No time! Now! Move! Kidpacks, nothing else. Abandon camp! Leave everything! Now! Bako with Lyaksandro. Oleksiy, with Viktoriya. Priti with Ayana. Dalila with me. Marynia with Borysko. Mykola with Bilyal. Mykhailo with Krystiyan. Nadiya with Sofiyko. Katryna with Larysa. Grygoriy on rearguard. Krystiyan, please, get up. Help me, help me get the kidpacks.” She reached down and grabbed his hands, and he staggered up, glasses awry.

Grygoriy looked up from Katryna, tears running down his face. The little girl was biting on a rolled up cloth to muffle her screams. “I can’t. I can’t leave her.”

Larysa started to run from camp and staggered back as if she had run into a wall.

Zlata covered her mouth and nose with her hands. There wasn’t time, there just wasn’t. “Please do what you’re told, now! Maksym’s orders, abandon camp! Larysa, help Katryna. Katryna, stop right now. Right now. Stop. Nothing is your fault, nothing. You can help by stopping, you’re scaring the little ones. Please, please stop. Krystiyan, get Dalila.”

Larysa turned and walked to Katryna as if she were in a trance. “Stop. We have to go, let’s go right now, we promised, let’s go.” Her voice quavered as she spoke in short, quick gasps.

Grygoriy hugged his sister tight. “She can’t do it, she can’t. Katryna, nothing is your fault. Stop blaming yourself. Please stop.” He brushed her hair back from her pale, clammy face. “I’ll carry her. I can’t guard, I can’t, I won’t.”

Larysa held her friend’s hand. “Please, Katryna, please. We have to go. We promised.”

Zlata finally realized she wasn’t helping. She must stop panicking. Grief and shock had to wait. Any orders had to be the correct ones. “Grygoriy with Katryna in the middle. Larysa, with me. Oleksiy to the rear with Marynia. Everyone, please help, I need help.” She ran to the gear pile and pulled out all the kidpacks, handing them off to Krystiyan.

Dalila clutched her leg, trying so hard to be good. The beautiful little angel’s eyes were terrified, begging for help, for comfort, as tears streamed down her face. Zlata kissed her as she lifted her into the backpack. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I scared you. We have to run because of the bad soldiers. I won’t let them hurt you. We’re going to run and hide. They won’t find us.” Krystiyan helped her stand, and she took deep breaths. “To the middle now, Krystiyan. Stay with Mykhailo. I love you.” She hugged him. “Larysa, I’m sorry, I need your help. Maksym told me to ask you for help if I ever needed it. Can you help me lead?”

There was a long silence. Finally, she whispered, “Yes. I think so. Where are we going?”

“Straight north as much as possible, keeping to cover.” Zlata pulled up the emergency route on the terrain map and passed the phone to her. “I’m not good enough. I get confused.”

Larysa zoomed the map. “All right. I see.” She put it away in her vest pocket.

Zlata handed the girl a pistol in a holster. “You know this one?”

“Yes.” Larysa checked it carefully and fastened it to her belt. She looked up, her face gray and blank. She pointed. “That way.”

Readying her rifle, Zlata led. And led. And led. And led.

It was brutal. Cruel. She felt like a slave driver. The forced march of over twenty-four hours was finally over. Done.

The middle children were beyond fatigued: hollow-eyed, reeling, staggering, falling down. All had had to be carried, swapping off with the little ones. Katryna couldn’t speak and wouldn’t look at anyone. Viktoriya and Mykola had alternated bouts of unconsciousness with inconsolable sobbing. Their eyes were so swollen that when they were able to stand, they had to be guided. They sat together now, holding hands, motionless, chins tucked to chests in despair. The little ones were terrorized. Borysko sucked his thumb with his arm over his eyes. Lyaksandro rocked, wringing his hands, trying his best to deal with yet another overwhelming panic attack. Dalila and Ayana huddled together, a clam shell, faces hidden. Nadiya, Krystiyan, Sofiyko, Bilyal, and Mykhailo were heroes deserving of every medal on the planet, helping their friends, caring for the little ones, and staggering onward while suffering from their own shock, grief, and horror. And Larysa. Oh, my god, Larysa, curled into a ball under the evergreen tree. Crushed, destroyed, but keeping her promise to her brother. 

Everyone knew that something beyond horrendous had happened. The worst. Zlata had refused to explain. She could not. She could not handle that. She could only focus on Maksym’s last order: Save the children.

Oleksiy and Bako were ready. They didn’t know what to do. She helped make the shelter, an A-frame. Her hands shook. They were low on rope. The branches of an evergreen adorned the sides. She covered the ground with more evergreen and dead grass. As soon as possible, everyone was inside. Everyone. It wouldn’t do any good to post guards. All were shattered.

Under the big coats, she hugged Larysa, Krystiyan, and Bilyal. Oleksiy cradled Viktoriya with Mykhailo and Nadiya. Marynia held Mykola, with Sofiyko and Lyaksandro on either side. Grygoriy held Katryna. Priti snuggled Borysko, Dalila, and Ayana. Bako sat cross-legged by the opening, head drooping, pistol holstered.

She stared at the ceiling. Was it worth it? Yaryna. Maksym. Dalila. Ayana. Marynia. Nadiya. Danylko. Dmytro. Anichka. Mom. Dad. Grandpa. Friends. Neighbors. Homes. Schools. Hospitals. Yes. Anything was better than living in the proximity of such a people, such a nation. Zlata closed her eyes.

The sun was setting when she woke. She crept to the opening.

Bako jerked upright and peered with bleary, puffy eyes, the tracks of tears visible on his cheeks.

Zlata hugged him. “Thank you. There are no words … sufficient …”

He rested his forehead against hers for a moment, took a deep breath, and nodded. “Are we far enough?”

“I don’t know.” She pushed aside the branches and crawled out.

He followed her outside.

She gathered what she needed to start a fire. After rummaging through the kidpacks, she pulled out two plastic pop-up buckets from Borysko’s carrier and handed them to him. “Can you get water? I think the stream is over there.” She pointed to the east. “Here’s a lantern.”

He looked at the sky and took the lantern. “Be back soon.”

She checked all the packs, taking inventory. So little. She covered her face. Yaryna. Maksym. Yaryna. Maksym. Veronika, Antin, Myroslava. What happened? Would she ever know? Larysa, Mykola, Viktoriya. She put her head down on her knees. The hideous images wouldn’t stop. Shuddering, she sat up and counted out the meals again. Enough for a few days of very short rations. Soap, very little. Some basic first aid. She wished she had something to do. She wanted to keep busy but she couldn’t remember what needed to be done. It was unlikely that the children would be up soon. If they were, they would eat and go back to sleep.

Bako was back. He gave her the buckets and moved to the shadows to guard.

She added the treatment to the water. Food next. Which were the most popular MREs? She put them close to the fire and protected them with a screen of evergreen. The buckets didn’t hold a lot. It would take all morning for clean-up. It couldn’t be done. For drinking only. The water was ready. The empty water bottles took it all. She checked her pistol, followed Bako’s tracks to the creek, and sanitized the new batch. It wasn’t fair for Bako to be the only one on guard. She retrieved her rifle from the stash and returned to the fire. It was getting colder. She pulled up her hood. She should add another layer to the shelter; there was a young evergreen next to the stream. After several trips back and forth, she ran out of things to do again.

How were they going to survive without Maksym, Myroslava, Antin, and Veronika? And Yaryna? The bright, sunny, little bundle of joy who had made every hard day worth living. Zlata lowered her head and covered her eyes. She had done what Maksym said to do, but she had no idea what to do next.

Screams blasted sweet oblivion away. She leaped up, disoriented.

Borysko was emerging from the shelter, sobbing. Priti’s head followed.

Zlata put her rifle aside and ran over. She grabbed him up and rocked. “Oh, Borysko, sweetie. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. You’re going to be all right. I’m here, I’ve got you. Shh. It’s going to be all right.”

“He’s not awake. A nightmare. I can’t wake him up.” Priti turned back into the shelter to calm the other children. “No, Krystiyan, you can help more by staying here, help me with Dalila and Ayana.”

Borysko’s big, brown eyes radiated terror as he wailed and babbled things that made no sense.

Zlata carried him to the fire, trying to soothe him. She rocked and sang a lullaby. And another. He was quieting. She sang the first lullaby again.

Oleksiy carefully squeezed from the shelter. He took Zlata’s rifle and joined Bako in the shadows.

Grygoriy crept out a few minutes afterward. He helped Katryna to the fire, sat, and pulled her into his lap. “See? It’s not Yaryna, it’s Borysko. He’ll be all right in a little while. He had a bad dream.”

Above the dark circles, Katryna’s blank eyes stared at nothing as tears spilled down.

Borysko’s thumb crept into his mouth.

Zlata didn’t have her big coat, it was needed in the shelter. She opened her jacket, wrapped it around the little boy as much as possible and pulled his hood farther forward to screen his face from the cold breeze. And rocked. And sang.

Bako came and squatted by the fire to get warmed up. He had been crying again.

Grygoriy looked over. “Could you build up the fire a little? Thanks.”

After adding a small log from the pile, Bako took his gloves off and held his hands to the warmth. “That’s better. I love snow and cold weather, but I still haven’t gotten used to it. It’s always hot and sticky where I’m from. I had to learn a lot my first winter here if I wanted to keep all my toes and fingers. People helped, donated the clothes and shoes I needed. It was great. They also helped with my homesickness. I missed my country so very much. I missed the wildlife, the animals. The birds, especially. I’ve been to many of the national parks in my country, camping and hiking. My first trip was to a park that has gorillas, chimpanzees, and drills. Not many people know what drills are.”

Zlata rocked Borysko as Bako told stories about the wildlife he’d seen. The young man was ostensibly speaking to her and Grygoriy, but she knew he was really talking to Katryna.

Borysko’s thumb popped out of his mouth and he sat up. “Did you really see a pippotomut?”

“Yes, and I was scared to death because it came right up to our boat. They sometimes get mad at boats and knock them over. But they’re not as bad as the crocodiles. Hippos just want you to get out of their river. Crocodiles want to eat you.” He crossed his arms over his knees and smiled. “I thought that was the stupidest thing I’d ever done, getting into that boat on a river with a bunch of hippopotamuses and crocodiles. But in retrospect, it was one of the best things I’ve ever done. It changed me forever.”

“Why did you go in the pippotomut river?”

“Because I wanted to get pictures. I got a whole lot more than pictures.”

Zlata snuck food into Borysko’s mouth. Just as suddenly as he had woken up, he fell back asleep.

Katryna whispered something.

Bako lowered his voice to a murmur. “Lions? Yes, but there are only a few these days. There are some other big cats, too.”

Zlata’s head nodded.

She slammed awake as if someone shot her. After a paralyzed moment, she gasped for air while her heart hammered, louder and louder. It reminded her of the first days, when her home was bombed, when Anichka died in her arms. She forced her mind back to the present, forced herself to take calm, deep breaths.

Bako was gone. He must be sleeping. Across the low fire, Grygoriy was still holding Katryna. Her eyes were closed, and he rested his head on top of her hood as he stared at the embers. A tall shadow moved through the trees behind him, circling the camp. Oleksiy. It was amazing that he could even stand upright after all he had done; he needed food. She would take some to him in a minute.

She had slept for hours sitting up; she hadn’t known she could do that. And it must not have gotten that cold after all or the shivering would have woken her. She checked Borysko; he was warm. Her arm was numb, and her back and neck were stiff. Everything was stiff. Zlata looked around. It was a little foggy. It would be morning soon. She sighed, reached over, and added a few logs to the fire. Once the children were up and cared for, she would ask the others what they should do next.

Grygoriy suddenly sat up, looking to the south.

Zlata froze. Was that …

Birdsong.

She whispered, “Please, oh, please. Did they … Are they …”

Veronika fell to her knees as Oleksiy sprinted to her side. His knife flashed out and cut the ropes tying the rough, homemade stretcher to her body. She slumped over and was still.

Zlata rushed to her feet and almost dropped Borysko. She placed him on the ground and raced to help Veronika. She tried to remove the backpacks.

“No. Help Maksym. He needs help.” In the flickering firelight, Veronika’s lips were cracked and bleeding; her voice was a low croak.

Grygoriy cut Antin free from the other end of the stretcher. He managed to catch the semi-conscious boy and lower him to the ground.

Zlata knelt. Maksym was wrapped in blankets. There was a small, blanket-wrapped bundle tied to the stretcher as well. She drew her knife and cut the bonds around Yaryna, crying. She hugged and kissed the cold, still, cloth and placed her to the side.

Another commotion. Myroslava staggered into view, grabbing onto trees for support, a huge backpack on her front as well as her back. She managed to shed them before collapsing.

Zlata looked back at Maksym. She was afraid to cut the ropes. It looked like they were holding the stretcher together, too. She looked up. “Oleksiy, Grygoriy, I need the stretcher over … there, and I need a shelter built over it and a fire right out front. Bako, they need water first thing, but don’t let them guzzle.”

Bako ran for the water bottles.

“Right away,” said Oleksiy. He looked at Grygoriy. “Ready. One, two, three. Up. Show us where.”

Zlata picked up Yaryna. As she stood, a scream startled her.

Viktoriya stood by the shelter on her crutches. She tried to run to Antin, slipped, and Priti grabbed her before she could fall. She struggled away and crawled on her hands and knees, sobbing.

Borysko woke and wailed, “Zlata! Zlata! Yaryna! I want Yaryna! I want Zlata, now!”

The other children boiled from the shelter.

Focus. Prioritize. Wiping her eyes with her sleeve, Zlata led the way to the sheltered spot where she wanted Maksym placed.

Larysa walked next to the stretcher, crying softly. Her hands reached out for her brother and jerked back, over and over.

Zlata looked for an assistant. “Marynia, search the backpacks. Find my first aid and help me. Priti, you and Bako take charge of the camp. Food, water, inventory.”

Priti called, “Katryna fainted.”

“Get her into the shelter, make sure she’s warm, Grygoriy will be with her as soon as possible. Nadiya, help Priti and then help Borysko.” She gently placed Yaryna under a bush and started cutting through the ropes around Maksym.

Grygoriy and Oleksiy used some of them to erect the frame of the shelter. Krystiyan, Bilyal, Mykhailo, Sofiyko, and Lyaksandro raced back and forth in the predawn light with their hatchets, bringing the sturdy branches for the supports and the limber sticks for the walls and ceiling.

Maksym’s lids fluttered and opened, drooping over dull, bloodshot eyes. He looked at Larysa and whispered, “Hi. It’s good to see you.”

She gasped for breath. “I thought … I would never … would never …” She covered her mouth and nose with both hands, breathing fast. “I did … what you said. I didn’t … didn’t …” She choked.

“I thought that, too. I told you and Mom and Dad that I was sorry. That I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t save you. I’m glad you saved yourself. It’s the best news in the world. Thanks.”

Larysa doubled over and sobbed.

Zlata said, “Maksym, I need to look at your wounds. Do you want Larysa here?”

His eyes drifted shut. “Sunshine, you can stay, but if you get too upset … it won’t help me. It won’t help Zlata.” His eyes slowly opened and gazed at Zlata. “Thanks for saving Larysa. Saving everyone.”

She pressed her eyes, overwhelmed by the memories. Not now, not now, stop. The living, think of the living. When she was able, she whispered, “You’re welcome. I couldn’t have done it without her.” She started gently pulling the blankets aside.

“I’m going … over by the fire.” Larysa wiped her eyes. “I … can’t stop, I can’t.”

“It’s all right.” Zlata glanced over at her. “He’s in pain and looks like he’s lost a lot of blood. I’ll get you right away if anything changes.” The shelter was almost completed. She looked out. “Oleksiy? Could you bring one of the water buckets? And find more and get them started?” The last blanket was adhered to the left shoulder and right thigh. She peeked under. Bandages. She was relieved to see that Maksym’s clothes had been removed; that was one less painful procedure. She would wait for her kit.

Marynia knelt opposite. “Found it. They all knew it was there but couldn’t remember where.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Zlata opened the case and grabbed the hand sanitizer. She passed it to Marynia. “Now, what can I use? That.” She dumped pills from a mostly empty bottle into another mostly empty bottle. She rinsed it with a little water. “Maksym, can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to give you some painkiller and antibiotic.” She slid her arm under his neck so his head was slightly elevated. “Don’t try to sit up. The water is in a small bottle.”

He managed to get the pills down without choking. He grimaced as his head was lowered. “The water was good.”

“Are you thirsty? Of course you are, stupid question.” She looked across at Marynia. “Grab a couple of water bottles and tell Oleksiy that we need large socks, mittens, and blankets warming by the fire.” She checked. Maksym wasn’t as visibly dehydrated as the others; they must have given him their water. She sat back and waited.

“What?” He looked up at her.

“It’s going to hurt getting the blanket and bandages off. A few more minutes for the painkiller.”

“All right.”

Marynia was back.

Zlata added a little salt to the water and helped him drink. She took a deep breath. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

She surveyed the camp first. Priti and Bako were preparing meals, and the tents were already up. Dalila, Ayana, and Borysko had calmed down. Nadiya had them all in her lap and Priti was singing to them in a voice that sounded like a bird. Oleksiy and Grygoriy were helping Antin, Myroslava, and Veronika to the big tent while Mykola unrolled sleeping bags inside and Viktoriya stood nearby on her crutches, never taking her anxious eyes off the twins’ slow, stiff, limping progress. Zlata studied Maksym one last time, checking her list of things to do in which order. “All right, here we go.” She was able to detach the blanket from the bandages without too much distress. The leg bandage had to be pried away from the wound.

Maksym spasmed and hissed between gritted teeth.

“Is it too much?”

“No.”

There was little new bleeding. She didn’t know if that was good or bad. She investigated the injury. The bullet was lodged just under the skin on the back of the thigh. “How much does this hurt?” She pressed lightly on the lump.

“Not as much as it did.”

“The bullet is right there, under your skin. I’m going to make an opening and remove it. Is that all right?”

“Yes.”

She cleaned everything as well as possible and made a small cut, feeling the bullet under the sharp edge of the knife. She began another incision perpendicular to the first.

His leg jerked and he moaned. The bullet slid halfway from the wound in a trickle of blood, and his teeth bared as he gritted them.

“Maksym, could you do that again? Contract your thigh muscle a little?”

“I think so.”

The bullet fell to the ground, followed by a clot and a little fresh blood. She cleaned and rinsed the exit wound and applied the topical ointment and bandage. Then she cleaned the entry, gently flushing it with the syringe again and again. Maksym liked it even less than she did. She applied a lot of ointment and padding. Fortunately, there were still plenty of supplies left from the gift of Nurse Petra and Sergiy.

There were beads of sweat on Maksym’s brow. His eyes slowly opened. “What about my shoulder?”

“Getting ready for that. How are you?”

“Surviving.”

“Good. Let’s take a look.” The wads came away easily. They were sodden. “I don’t think it’s the same type of bullet as the other. The wound is different, there’s more damage, but the circulation to your hand is good. I don’t dare rinse it; I’m afraid to disturb it. You can’t afford to lose more blood. I’ll clean around the entry, and hopefully the antibiotics will keep everything in check until we can get help. Unfortunately, right now you need to lie on your right side, on your injured leg. Do you need more pain meds?”

“I guess it couldn’t hurt. Ha, ha.”

She laughed softly. “Good one.” She gave him another pill. “I think it might be a good idea if you have something to bite down on.”

“You’re right.”

Marynia swiftly rolled up a section of cloth and placed it in his mouth.

“You’ll be leaning slightly over your right side so that when I clean the wound, any goop runs out, not in. Do you want to wait until the painkiller kicks in?”

Maksym mumbled around the cloth, “Should probably do it now while I’m conscious.” He groaned as Marynia helped roll him over, cheeks puffing out as he exhaled in quick huffs.

Zlata checked his back. No exit wound. She worked quickly. After bandaging his shoulder, she contemplated a sling. It wouldn’t do. He seemed comfortable with his arm at his side; she would pad it well and tie it to his body. She checked his pulse again; it was rapid but steady. Temperature still subnormal except for around the injuries. She removed the mouth guard and placed it nearby; it would be needed again soon. “Maksym?”

“What?”

“We’re going to make you a nice, big, comfy bed and then Oleksiy and Grygoriy will torture you by putting you in it, face down so your shoulder and thigh can drain.”

“You’re a goddess.”

“Be right back.” She crawled out, handed the warm blankets and socks in to Marynia, and then stretched her back and neck.

Larysa ran over. “Will he be all right?”

“Your brother has very serious injuries, but he’s extremely healthy and fit. And tough. He’s sleepy right now.” Zlata looked around. “Where’s Grygoriy?”

“He’s with Katryna. She won’t leave Yaryna, so he’s staying there, too.” She looked anxiously at the trio under the bush.

“Yes, he’s needed there, so we’ll have to do without him for now. When you were sick, your brother wouldn’t leave you, either. Katryna is grieving, we all are, but she feels at fault. It’s no one’s fault but the murderer who shot a baby.” Zlata took a deep breath. “When you take your eyes … off a baby, you worry about … her playing in the toilet or eating bugs.” She couldn’t breathe. “You don’t worry … about her … being shot … in the head … when she’s playing … on a toddler slide.” She wiped her tears away, but they kept coming.

“Is that what Maksym said?” Larysa looked up at her with tortured eyes.

“No, it’s … what I saw. It’s how Yaryna … died. I ran across a little field. Through trees. Around some bushes. Maksym’s hands … were high in the air, empty. He yelled for … the orcs not to shoot. The baby. Don’t shoot. Children. He surrendered. For Yaryna. To save her life. The monsters … shot them anyway.” She put her arms around the distraught girl. “He fell back. He didn’t move again.” The trickle of tears became a flood. “Yaryna … little baby … dead, murdered.” She closed her eyes. “Oh, Yaryna.” She couldn’t, she mustn’t give way; there was too much to do. Inhaling deep, shuddering gasps, she fought for control. “It’s not a secret. I just couldn’t … talk before. Anyone who wants to know, you can tell them Yaryna’s story. Even if they don’t want to know, tell them Yaryna’s story, no matter how much it hurts.”

Tears sparkled like diamonds on the long, dark lashes. Larysa closed her anguished eyes and rested her head on Zlata’s shoulder. “How could they? Yaryna, Yaryna, Yaryna, sweet little baby. How could they? I hate them, I hate them, I hate them.”

“So do I. I’m drowning in it. I don’t want to hate, but I can’t not. Anyone who’s human must hate what’s being done to us.” She hugged Larysa hard. “Can you help me again? We need everyone who can hold a gun on guard duty, and we need to clear the back trail to the little river right away.”

“I can help.” Larysa straightened and wiped her face with her hands. Her chin went up. “I want to help.”

Imposters were well documented. She couldn’t be sure. Zlata watched the troops drive by.

Marynia waited patiently, peering over her end of the log at the lone figure walking down the road. An old woman. Not ancient, but old. She wore a large backpack and was walking at a good clip.

Zlata weighed the odds. She propped her rifle behind a tree, checked her pistol, stepped out onto the shoulder, and waved.

The woman startled but immediately veered from the road to meet her. “How are you? Do you need help?”

“Who are you? You talk with an accent I don’t know.” Zlata eyed the stranger.

“One of your neighbors from the west, Lisa. But I’m not here, so I won’t say which country. There are a lot of us, doing what we can.” Lisa looked her up and down. “If you like, I’ll drop my backpack right now, and you can keep it. It’s full of supplies, and you look like you could use some.”

“No, but thanks. Were those Ukrainian soldiers who just passed?”

“Yes, they were.”

“Am I out of occupied territory?”

“Yes, you are.”

Zlata closed her eyes and exhaled with a whoosh. She felt dizzy.

“My dear, you’re going to fall over.”

“Zlata. My name is Zlata. Do you know anything about bullet wounds?”

“Not much, but I have friends who do.” The woman looked her up and down again. “Who’s shot?”

“One of my friends. About eight kilometers south of here.” That was not quite correct but close enough.

“Well, you do need help and then some. Eight kilometers south of here is not a good place to be. Will you trust me?”

“No. There’s a rifle pointed at you.”

“Ah, good, that’s very sensible.” Lisa scratched her head for a moment and sighed. “Here’s what I suggest. Take me to your friend. The Ukrainian soldiers that passed by are the friends I was talking about. I could contact them with my headset, but they’ll waste a lot of time arguing about everything as well as trying to order me to get my butt in gear. They know where I am and when they see I’m veering off course, some will come in a hurry, much faster than a retrieval team can. By the time we get to where your friend is, they won’t be far behind, and that’s important.”

Zlata frowned. “Why?”

The stranger sighed louder, slumped, and rolled her eyes. “Not supposed to tell. If you think about it, you can probably guess. We should go, fast.”

Troops moving. There was some kind of operation planned. In this area. “Oh. Crap.” She tried to think. Could she trust her judgment? Lisa was willing to risk being shot to help an unknown girl and her friend. Zlata took a deep breath. “Follow me.”

Were the voices real this time? Maksym tried to shake off the mental haze that was slowly creeping over him.

“Good thing I decided to walk today. How many of you are there?”

“I never counted.” Zlata sounded astonished that anyone could suspect her of such a thing.

Maksym chuckled softly. It hurt. An unknown woman appeared around the corner of the shelter. “Who’s she?”

“She’s Lisa. She says we’re out of the zwastika zone but we have to go, right away.”

The stranger had a mop of messy gray hair under a bright yellow cap. Penetrating eyes examined him from behind smudged glasses. “Are you Maksym?” Her hands flew up into the air as Marynia’s rifle nestled at the base of her skull. “I really do need to be more careful.” She cleared her throat. “Just that I’ve heard of Maksym, a few buddies wondering what happened after you fell out of contact. They didn’t know there were so many.”

“Lisa, why do we have to go?”

“Fronts ebb and flow.”

“Ebb and flow?”

“Soon.”

Frenzied birdsong.

Yells.

Crack.

Zlata clapped her hands to her face and looked horrified. “No, they’re friends! Friends! I forgot to say!”

Lisa raised her hands higher and called in a piercing voice, “Hold your fire, stupidheads! Envoy! Envoy!”

After a few minutes, a distant voice drifted across the camp. “Permission to approach! Unarmed!”

More noisy birds.

“Approach.”

“Come ahead!” bellowed Lisa.

Maksym frowned.

The woman shrugged with her hands still raised high. “Sorry, got carried away.”

A soldier with a short, blond beard walked through the camp, stood next to Lisa, and gave her a dirty look. “Must you be such a pest? I don’t appreciate you getting me shot at again.”

“No one shot at you. A completely reasonable warning shot was fired, and don’t let me hear you say any different.” Lisa frowned severely at the reality-challenged newcomer.

“I don’t see any reason to warn the tree right next to me about anything.” He brushed some bark off his sleeve. “Did you flush your communicator down the toilet again?”

Lisa stared. “Everyone does. There’s something wrong with that?” She lowered an arm and held out her hand.

“I’m not giving you another one! You already have five!” Envoy thrust a finger at her. “And get your hand back up there before you get shot!” He gazed heavenward with pursed lips and then glanced at Marynia. “Would it be possible to point that rifle somewhere else?”

She pointed it at him.

“Fine.” He sighed in exasperation and raised his hands. “What’s the problem here and how do I solve it?”

Maksym almost laughed at the sing-song intonation but it would hurt too much. Envoy and Lisa were very good, ratcheting down the tension with their all-in-a-day’s-work manner and getting the weapon directed away from the hostage in less than a minute. There were no tells indicating imposture. “Your boots are over the top. I love boots.”

Gazing down at his ordinary boots, the man seemed perplexed. “Um …”

Lisa nodded enthusiastically. “Check out those bad boys.” She stretched out her leg and admired her generic hiking boot, twisting her foot from side to side. “Me, I get my boots custom made in Slovakia. We have to head out soon, finish admiring boots later.”

Maksym looked at Zlata. “Time to go.”

Marynia lowered her rifle and stalked to the shelter. The thirteen middle and little kids emerged, guarded by Priti and Bako.

“Oh, my god. Oh, my god.” Lisa exhaled with a whoosh. She fished a tiny headset from her pocket and stuck it in her ear. “How can we help?”

Maksym looked around. Everything in the camp was in its usual state of impeccable order, thanks to Zlata. “Keep the soldiers out of sight as much as possible. The little ones will be terrified of them. Transport to the closest hospital in a vehicle large enough for everyone. We won’t be separated. We’ll be ready in a few minutes.” He looked for Grygoriy. “Would you ask Katryna to bring Yaryna to me?”

He nodded and in less than a minute Katryna arrived, cradling the tiny body.

Maksym hugged the cloth bundle to his chest with his right arm. “Thank you, Katryna. Go get ready.”

She ran off.

Lisa raised an inquiring eyebrow at him.

“Not now.”

Zlata crawled into the shelter and fished a few bottles from the little tool box. “Your meds are early today.”

“You should probably double the antibiotic.”

She nodded. “You’ve got a fever.” She checked his wounds, tucked the blankets back around him, and then held the bottle as he drank. “The bandages are good still. Do you need to go?”

Maksym smiled at her euphemism for pissing. “No.” He watched as he was secured to the contraption. It was still holding up. Oleksiy and Grygoriy hoisted it, the shoulder harnesses were quickly fastened, and Zlata checked everything.

The envoy talked into his headset and then looked at Maksym. “We’ll be surrounded but not too close. Best I can do. My name’s Yure, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Maksym.” He checked the camp. Zlata waved. He looked at Yure. “Ready?”

“Sure,” said Yure. He spoke to the microphone. “We’re coming. Group of twenty-one.”

“Twenty-five,” said Zlata. “But Anichka and Yaryna are dead.”

Maksym closed his eyes. The painkillers were working. Myroslava’s lead.

* * *

Lisa and Yure had been taken aback that a little girl was in charge and highly amused (although they did their somewhat best to hide it) that the soldiers hadn’t spotted two of the three heavily-armed little twerps. The lieutenant was irked, unreasonable, obstructive, and increasingly annoying.

“I’m very grateful for your service to our country. We’ll continue our journey now.” Myroslava turned away.

“No, wait, you can’t—”

She gazed down the barrel into the astonished eyes. Behind her, the gang formed a porcupine, Bako and Priti in the middle with the little ones, Zlata and Larysa standing guard over the stretcher with their pistols. She didn’t have to check; everyone would do their jobs.

“You’re bad soldiers! Bad! Go away!” Borysko’s indignant, furious yell broke the silence.

“What the hell!” Lisa’s voice sounded from the rear.

The envoy appeared in the corner of Myroslava’s left eye. “Yure, that’s a mistake.”

“Shit!” He vanished.

KA-BOOM.

Damn. BFF was loud. Myroslava looked calmly down the rifle into the now furious eyes. Tsk, tsk. It was not a good time to lose one’s temper.

“Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me! What’s wrong with a tiny pistol if you have to fire a warning shot?” Lisa’s voice was closer.

Veronika’s icy-cold voice cracked out, “There won’t be another warning shot for anyone who points a rifle at Myroslava!”

Lisa appeared to the right, gesticulating wildly. “Holy shit, these are not little kids on a freaking field trip! Was there something about armed and dangerous you didn’t understand?” She jabbed a finger at the lieutenant. “Stand down! Back it up!”

The man gave Myroslava one final, poisonous glare. “Stand down!”

There was a moment of silence.

Whee-whear from the rearguard.

“In the future, you may want to think twice about assaulting cute little girls.” Myroslava slowly backed to her position in the formation. Whear-whee-whear. Return rifles to ready.

Lisa extended a hand to the prone soldier. He ignored it and thrust a finger at her. “This is all your fault, and I didn’t assault anyone.”

“Yes, you did, everyone knows that you did because it’s being recorded so everyone saw you grab her from behind and lift her off the ground, and of course everything is all my fault, so let me deal with it. You’ve got more important things to do today.” The sound of distant artillery punctuated her statement.

“Shit, I’m late!” He clasped her hand, scrambled to his feet and joined the soldiers waiting by the other vehicle, yelling back over his shoulder with a rude gesture, “You’ll be hearing from me about this!”

Lisa strolled back to the gang. “Made another fan there. Keep it up.” She seemed serious. Seeing Myroslava’s expression, she shrugged. “He’s a little ticked right now, but he’ll get over it. What did you think would happen if you shot him?”

“He’d have a sore toe and be a really crabby hostage.”

“Hmm.” Lisa rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “You almost make me wish I hadn’t deescalated. We should save the chit-chat. Can we go now?”

Myroslava shook her head. “We need to clarify some things first. No words are sufficient to express our appreciation for your assistance and your service to our country. However, my orders are to make certain that we are not disarmed, detained, deported, disappeared, abducted, searched, separated, stolen, or otherwise mishandled, not a single one, so make sure everyone is informed, please. No compromise is possible. We have a right to defend ourselves, and we will, so let’s try to avoid making that necessary. We’ll continue on foot if we must, but we’ll steal the bus first if we can.”

“That seems clear enough to me. Let’s go.” Lisa knocked on the door of the cab. “Yo! Open up.”

Myroslava watched her as the children filed in. Who was this woman? Why was she here? She examined the vehicle. She was fairly certain that it had been a prisoner transport in a former life. Possibly in its current life as well. After climbing the narrow stairs, she looked to the back. Zlata waved from her place next to the EMT, so Myroslava took the empty seat by Lisa. Through the iron bars and reinforced glass, she saw that Antin had established himself in the front compartment; he was happily chatting with the driver. The doors closed and she heard the snick of a lock. “Why are you here?”

“Boots. In a wider sense, I’m a consultant for unusual equipment. In the widest sense, I have no idea.” Lisa fished a cellphone from her pocket and started a game of solitaire. “Do you need phones?”

“We have them, but the bad news from home can wait for a few more hours.” She didn’t bother to mention that Antin and Marynia were already uploading multiple copies of the encrypted footage of the journey plus Grygoriy’s voluminous journal to various secure storage. There would be nothing of interest on any of the phones. She focused on relaxing. It felt strange to sit in a chair. And it was interesting that being in such a confined space next to a stranger was unnerving. She had changed. “What was his problem?”

“The lieutenant? Sergiy is a good man doing the worst job in the world. Serious casualties lately and now a band of little thugs to his rear who shot at his soldiers and have been traipsing undetected through his territory for days. Like I said, he’ll get over it. Do you have Danylko’s boots?”

“Yes.”

“I was afraid that you might.” Lisa looked out the window for a minute. Sighing, she wiped a tear away and resumed her game. “He was a friend. A friend of Sergiy’s, too. His cousin.”

The journey continued in silence through multiple checkpoints of very alert soldiers. Again and again, Lisa flashed a badge in a small folding wallet that was attached to her wrist and swiftly returned her sleeve to its former length, foiling Myroslava’s attempts to inspect the fascinating object. Approaching the two hour mark the driver slowed to make a right turn, and she observed with interest as Antin pointed a pistol at his head. The driver continued straight on. The pistol disappeared from view.

Lisa donned her headset. “Pooky, who changed the route? Absolutely not. Whose decision was that? Her again? Just my opinion, but she needs to be investigated. It seems to be her mission to mess everything up on a regular basis. No. Not her job. None of her business. No. What the hell. It’s approaching criminal. She’s perfectly aware that there’s a kid in the back with two bullet wounds, and now the poor driver has a pistol glued to his head thanks to her. No. No. Bye.” She snorted as she stuffed the tiny earpiece back into her pocket. “Keep in mind that everyone is very proud of you which translates into everyone wants to get their hands on you right now. For your own good, of course.”

Myroslava had been expecting that—she, Antin, and Maksym had discussed the subject several times—but not for the reason suggested by Lisa. It was a new factor. She eyed the woman. There were no communications gear in evidence except the cellphone and dinky headset; they both looked like nothing much, not worth a second glance. The hiking shoes seemed like ordinary footwear. But the mass of pointy, gray hair was a giant antenna, she was sure of it. She’d have to remember to discuss that with Antin. “You seem rather nonchalant under the circumstances. Not everyone takes a cheerful ramble through the front.”

“The number of years I haven’t been in a war zone can be counted on one hand. What did you do with the rocket launcher?”

“Which one?”

“Never mind.”

That was food for thought. Myroslava gazed out the window. It was strange, passing through towns and seeing some people out and about, a few children playing in parks and playgrounds. At a traffic light, she watched a girl throw a toy to a happy, excited dog with long, floppy ears. It was so cute. The many starving or dead animals she had seen flashed through her mind, and she looked away.

The outlying villages gave way to apartment blocks. People wearing bright coats and carrying colorful shopping bags walked on sidewalks. Cars waited in line at gas stations. Some stores and restaurants were open. After a series of turns, their conveyance pulled into the parking area surrounding the hospital. There was a mob by the entrance. Several other buses waited nearby.

Lisa looked over. “Would you mind letting me handle this?”

“Not at all. I will enjoy it tremendously.”

The transport pulled to a stop, the side door opened, and Lisa hopped to the ground, much to the disappointment of the throng of interested parties.

Someone tried to board and the driver slammed the door shut.

A heated discussion ensued. Lisa shook her finger in someone’s face, fished her headset from her pocket, and alternated yelling and gesticulating with intense private conversation. Suddenly, a squad of hospital security joined the melee and forced everyone away from the entrance and bus except for the legitimate employees. Hands fisted on her hips, Lisa talked with someone who seemed to be an administrator. She turned, strode back to the vehicle, and stuck her head through the now open door. “They’ve got a waiting room set aside for you. The staff is on your side, except for the director. He seems to be more interested in the media coverage than your welfare. And everybody is completely convinced that everyone else but you knows what’s best for you right now.”

“We were aware that would be the case.” Myroslava grabbed her backpack, slung her rifle, and descended to the pavement.

The rest of the kids followed in order. People shouted from behind the rope barriers. The younger children were terrified and clung to each other. Grygoriy, Oleksiy, and the EMT maneuvered Maksym out of the back of the bus. The staff discussed the stretcher and agreed that the whole thing should be placed on the waiting gurney. Oleksiy and Grygoriy blocked the way when the orderlies tried to wheel Maksym to the entrance.

Antin drifted down from the cab, the epitome of a harmless, young fellow who would never dream of pointing pistols at heads. He turned back and said, “It was so nice to meet you. Thanks so much for helping us.”

The driver smiled and waved. “It was great meeting you, too. Welcome back to civilization.”

Myroslava beamed at the man. “Thank you!” She returned her attention to the clot of hospital bureaucracy.

Breaking off a whispered argument with Lisa, the head of the security detail approached with the administrator. “Um, we’ve never had anything quite like this before and there are rules that have to be followed.”

“I understand and appreciate your concerns.” Myroslava glanced around. “We’re not safe with these unknown people trying to separate and remove us. I don’t care who they say they are. They need to stay far away, especially from the little ones. I’m sorry that we must continue to defend ourselves here.” She let that point of view sink in for a moment. “The rifles aren’t loaded, we’ve never had a single accident, and we stay together, period.” She failed to mention whether or not the pistols were loaded. So far, she had gotten everything Maksym wanted, but the stress and anxiety were mounting higher and higher: a creeping feeling of isolation, the weight of total responsibility, the absent luxury of uninhibited conversations. Taking a surreptitious deep breath, she focused on her job. Not much longer now, just a few more minutes.

The man glanced nervously at the BFF casually slung over a little girl’s shoulder, and Veronika bestowed her charming gymnast smile upon him. “Um, hmm, what needs to happen is—”

Lisa seemed to sense Myroslava’s distress, marched over, and let her temper loose again. “Look, we’re doing no good standing around out here, we’re doing harm. Once we’ve gotten them somewhere they can feel safe, we will argue about rifles at our leisure.” One hand fisted on a hip, she pointed to the entrance with the other. “Get them in that hospital now, or everyone is getting back on the bus including the critically wounded, sixteen-year-old hero that you turned away from your door!”

Go, Lisa, go! Myroslava felt some tension ease.

There was an expectant hush among the avid onlookers.

The security officer looked at the administrator and exhaled noisily. “The proper procedure for disarming large groups of children is probably in the manual somewhere, so we’re all going to get fired.” He turned back to Myroslava. “Ready?”

Lisa nodded at her and trotted back to where Zlata was waiting by the gurney with Larysa. Oleksiy and Grygoriy were in position.

“Ready.” Birdsong. Myroslava led.

Cheers erupted from the crowd and followed them in.

* * *

Someone was trying to take Yaryna away. He tightened his grip.

“Maksym. You have to let go.”

He opened his eyes. They felt hot.

Zlata and some woman. Lisa. Her name was Lisa. She had her arm around Larysa.

There were other people standing around and an empty gurney.

Larysa was scared.

Zlata’s face came closer. “They want to autopsy Yaryna and you need surgery. It’s urgent, the sooner the better.” She was scared.

He must be really sick for Zlata to be so upset. It didn’t feel like it. He felt warm and toasty, relaxed. There was pain somewhere nearby. “Yaryna …” He cleared his throat. He collected his thoughts and strength. “Yaryna can only be autopsied if it’s done right now. She can’t be in a morgue forever. She needs a funeral. We all need that for her. Who’s in charge?”

“I am.” A woman appeared next to Zlata. “I’m Svitlana, I want to help, and I’ll start immediately.”

“Can you promise?”

“I promise. I’ll take very good care of Yaryna. What’s her full name?”

Lisa said, “Just Yaryna for now. Still searching for immediate family, but it’s highly likely that there aren’t any. Again, she’s a victim of war crimes. She survived the first.”

“Understood. May I take her, please?”

Maksym took a deep breath and let the baby go. “Yes.”

Lisa’s face appeared again. “I’ll be with you during surgery and recovery.” She looked at Larysa. “They can’t let you in there. It’s a very bad idea. Will I do?”

Larysa nodded and wiped her eyes. “I don’t want him to be alone.”

“Thanks.” Maksym’s eyes drifted shut. “Sunshine, I want you to wait with the others so I know you’re safe. All right?”

“I will. I love you.” She kissed him on the cheek.

“Love you. See you soon.” He idly listened to the noise of civilization. He opened his eyes. The light was too bright.

* * *

Rifles lay on top of a tall bookcase. Outerwear and layers were neatly piled in a corner. Backpacks were arranged in order on one of the benches. The other padded rows of seating were festooned with playing children. Larysa was seated near the door with Veronika and Mykola on either side. Priti was guarding the entrance, slamming the metal slab shut in faces when necessary. Bako was keeping an eye on the little ones and organizing a bath schedule on his cellphone. Myroslava had claimed a corner where she could keep an eye on everyone. She looked like a well-mannered school-kid as long as one ignored the pistol in its shoulder holster. Marynia could feel her anxiety. She looked back at the doctor to her right. “What did you say?”

He cleared his throat. “I said that we’re ready if you are.”

“No, I’m not.” She glanced at the nurse to her left. He also seemed completely unaware of his unwantedness. Most of the pediatricians had been great, quickly agreeing to postpone physical checkups and limiting themselves to acquiring basic information after Borysko had called the police with Zlata’s cellphone, Nadiya had crouched behind Veronika; and Dalila, Ayana, and Lyaksandro had hid under the benches. However, this one insisted on being an ass, asking her these things while Maksym was in surgery.

“There are counselors available. Would you like to talk to someone?”

“No, thanks.” Marynia stared at the door. Zlata had been making regular reports, but she was late. Priti flung it wide open, and Viktoriya bounced into the room on her crutches but without her back brace, followed by Antin and a glowering Oleksiy who was doing a fine job of impersonating a misplaced Viking. Myroslava stood and in a flash, Viktoriya was in her arms.

“So, if you’ll just sign this form to agree to a medical guardian, then we—”

“You’re in my seat.” Oleksiy the Berserker loomed over the doctor and scowled.

“Oh. Um. Marynia, we’ll talk again later.” The doctor and nurse beat a hasty retreat, causing Ayana, Dalila, and Lyaksandro to dive under the benches again which infuriated Borysko.

“Go away! Get out!” A gorilla launched through the air and bounced off the nurse’s head.

Bako looked up from his phone. “That’s quite an arm you have, my lad. Have you ever played baseball?”

“I guess I should take over Maksym’s punching-bag duties. Mykhailo’s in a red-hot fury again, too.” Oleksiy sat, crossed his legs, donned his glasses, and folded his hands in his lap. “They said everything’s great with Viktoriya. They want to take a look at Bilyal first thing in the morning; the experts are busy until then. There’s security outside the door and we were escorted. Also a police officer. She seemed friendly and said that they all want to meet Borysko and give him a medal. You’d think doctors would have a little more common sense.”

“I shouldn’t have told that other doctor I might be pregnant. This busybody wanted me to fill out forms. Right here, right now. And draw blood.” She rolled her eyes. “Like I’ve any to spare at the moment!”

“He would. Why are the kids still awake?”

She shrugged. “Lyaksandro is scared about being in a hospital after the one we were in was bombed, scared of being separated after what happened to Yaryna, scared of all the strangers, and he knows what’s happening with Maksym. I think if he sleeps here for one night and nothing scares the shit out of him, it will be a big step. The doctor asked if I wanted a counselor.”

Oleksiy looked at her. “Do you? That nice nurse who brought all the pillows and toys probably knows who the best one is. I’ll find out if you want.”

“It can wait. If I am pregnant, I don’t hate it anymore. I don’t love it either, but nothing is a baby’s fault. Nothing was Anichka’s or Yaryna’s fault. I’m still full of hate, but not at a baby or myself. If I decide to have an abortion, it won’t be because of that.” She sighed and then glanced sidelong at him. “They assumed you’re the father.”

“Really? What should I be doing? Scratch my balls? Stare at crotches?” He scratched his head. “Oh, that’s right. Stare at crotches while scratching balls.” He nodded, glad he had figured it out.

“They were surprised that none of the other girls are pregnant, you slut.” She frowned severely at him.

“What!” A shout of laughter. He slapped his hand over his mouth as all the kids turned and stared. “What the hell. Surely not all by me.”

“Dorks.”

“There goes my shiny-clean reputation. Goodbye, it was nice knowing you.” Oleksiy waved farewell to his departing virtue. “By the way, dear mommy’s boy is dead and feel free to claim me as baby-daddy if you want.”

“Thanks—What? When? How do you know? When did you find out?” She clapped her hands to her cheeks, stupefied.

“I found out when I killed him a while back.”

“What! Why didn’t you tell me!” Kids were staring. She lowered her voice to a hiss. “You should’ve told me! You deceived me, deceived everyone.”

“No, I shouldn’t have told you, and yes, I deceived everyone.” He shrugged. “It was everything Maksym warned us about, over and over. I almost destroyed us all, got myself in a hell of bind. Thank god for Antin.” He looked over at her and raised the detestable eyebrow. “I deserved a court-martial and firing squad. Of course I didn’t feel that way at first. It’s incomprehensible that anyone could have any objections to boatloads of Humpers being slain. I was full of glory, deserved medals and a huge party. Antin had to pound objections into my head, literally. Of course the rotten little bastard has a black-belt in some weird-sounding martial art, and boy, was he mad. But he didn’t have it all his own way, I box and wrestle.” Mistaking her appalled stare, Oleksiy grinned. “Yes, he’s half my size. He took me down twice because I tried to interrupt his snotty lecture. I got a little hot under the collar after the second time and returned the favor. Neither of us was going all out. We blew off steam, then we were able to talk about the important stuff.”

“God, I want to whack you upside the head. Antin, too.”

“Well, don’t use a rifle, you’ll just break it. Need a jackhammer.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you couldn’t have told me. I needed to know. Even if what you did was wrong and dangerous, that didn’t happen. You got away with it.”

Oleksiy ran his hand through his hair, making it poke out in all directions. “It’s complicated. Maksym explained it better, but I wasn’t paying attention then either. Undermining the mission, people treating me like a hero when they should be kicking me out of camp. Even Maksym would have a hard time not tossing up some confetti. It starts changing from getting little ones safe and free to something else. Bottom line, I set a horrible, um, what did Antin say … precedent, and he refused to have it upvoted.” He sighed noisily. “I didn’t want to agree, it was just the thing to do because he was so pesky about it, beating me up and all. But I see it clearly now, for sure. After the snipers in the woods, Danylko, rescuing Myroslava and Veronika, we were getting cocky. It crept in, crept up on us.”

“You wanted to tell me?”

“Yes. Antin wanted to know how much was me thinking it would help you and how much was me thinking it would help me. That made me mad as shit, but it was true. I wanted to be the glorious hero in your eyes. And to be fair, he wanted to tell you, too.”

She studied him for a moment; he still looked awful. She sighed. “You’re right. It’s not the first time I’ve thought about it. But my head’s been in such a fog It started before you even joined us. We drilled over and over that if scouts or foragers had to shoot, it was because they screwed up, not because they were brave heroes.” She paused, thinking back. “That’s been bugging the hell out of me. Is it somehow my fault that filthy piece shit attacked me?” She shook her head and held up a hand when he tried to interrupt. “Don’t. Let me finish. I need to talk about this while I can. On the one hand, yes. It was my job. I wasn’t alert, was thinking about other things, just wanted to get done and back to camp. On the other, hell no it wasn’t. It’s that shitty-little-weasel-pretending-to-be-a-dear-leader’s fault: Oh, let me get you out of prison and pay you to go commit your filthy crimes elsewhere. Keep your brainless, pervert orcs in your own country, you little pissant.” She made a surreptitious vulgar gesture after checking to see that none of the little ones were looking. “We need a crabby corner in here. Anyway, there were those missions, over and over, where we backed away from danger because we saw it. We should’ve had a party. Celebrated each and every one. Instead, we’re all impressed by the times when we messed up but managed to survive.” She shrugged. “Human nature, I guess. What happened? How did you know it was him?”

“You are not to blame, period.” Oleksiy rubbed his face. “Argh. You say stuff like that, and I want to go back and kill that evil shit all over again.” After a moment he said, “You’ll have to ask Antin what happened. Like I said, I was in a bind. Everything was a confused mess from my point of view, bullets flying all over the place.” He made a face. “In addition to giving a great description, it turns out Grygoriy is a really good mimic because as soon as the scumbag pervert opened his mouth, I shot the shit out of him. Grygoriy confirmed later. I’m glad about that. Not that there’s anything embarrassing about shooting orcs due to mistaken identities, it’s just as good a reason as any other.” He rolled his eyes. “Antin wasn’t mad that I shot the scum, but that I did it without thinking about retreat, my partner, the gang, anything. If I ever endangered Viktoriya like that again, he was going to hang me by my ankles in the top of some godforsaken tree. Oh come on, you can’t hang people by their ankles in trees, they’ll just untie that shit and climb down. Seen it done in dozens of movies. That was when he started getting really mad.” He laughed and then palmed his forehead. “Oops, jumped ahead, never can tell a story straight. Back up a little. You see, what was really messed up about the whole thing is that after the leaders were all dead, the others surrendered! To us!” He flung his hands out. “What the hell. They wanted to go with us, join us, get them the fuck out. No way. Shitfaced pervert’s best buddies want us to rescue them. Unreal. It was all I could do not to start shooting again. They whined about the fact that we weren’t overjoyed with their company. Can you believe that? Expected us to pop open the champagne. We don’t want your stinking asses in our country or any other country, for that matter. That’s why we shoot you.” He snorted indignantly. “Antin told them that there was no money for them where we were going, just more jails. If they pretended they were brainless minions doing the best they could without their beloved leaders instead of mutineers who had disobeyed every order and shot a comrade in the back, they would get huge bonuses. Typical Antin, you know how he sounds when he thinks you’re a hopeless dork. It was great.” He grinned. “Total about-face. We were subhumans again. We stole a bunch of gear on our way out and that was that. Antin said the latest word is they’ve all received medals and bonuses. That’s pretty much all I know about the whole thing.”

She shook her head, amazed. “That is truly almost unbelievable. I’m looking forward to hearing Antin’s story. How are you and Veronika doing?”

“I don’t know how Veronika’s doing. She’s not talking about it. I’m a little better. Today, I feel like dog shit instead of pig shit. Maybe someday I’ll work my way up to gerbil shit. It’s killing us that we were on guard when Yaryna slipped away and neither of us saw it. I don’t know, I just don’t know. And Katryna, poor kid. Shit. Shit, shit, fucking shit.”

Marynia looked across the room.

Katryna was curled up in a blanket next to Grygoriy. She reached up and pulled it over her face.

Oleksiy bent over, rested his head on his hands, and stared at the ground. “Just because she was playing with Yaryna last, she thinks everyone blames her.”

“I think the big problem is that she blames herself, like you do. Like we all do.”

He scrubbed his face with both hands and nodded. “Easy to say don’t do that to someone else, so fucking hard not to do it to myself.”

“Yes.” She sighed as she contemplated Lyaksandro and Sofiyko for a minute. “You know, now that we’re back in civilization, I should probably wash my potty-mouth out with soap one of these days.”

“Crap. You’re right, and I wasn’t anywhere near done with mine yet.” He sat back. “Bet you that I get my foul mouth cleaned up first.”

“Pooh on you. I bet you the last cookie that you don’t.”

Oleksiy gasped. “You hoarded a cookie! Whoa. I don’t have anything near good enough. I’ll have to offer my laundry services for the rest of my life. And you can have Mykhailo, too.”

Marynia couldn’t help laughing. “Oleksiy, you may not foist your little brother on me while pawing through my undergarments.”

“Darn. Well, how about a weekly pedicure and—”

“Keep away from my feet, friend.”

“Exactly. Friends give friends pedicures. Massages, too! Put avocados on faces, um, facials. And, and … do hair and stuff. That’s right!” He counted off the points on his fingers. “Have sleepovers, stay up late, watch movies, eat popcorn, play video games, talk about other people.” He nodded encouragingly. “I’m free on Saturday. Friday, too. And the rest of the week.”

“Which of your friends have been giving you pedicures and massages while sleeping over? I want to meet them.” Marynia gave him The Oleksiy. The last time she checked, it resembled a confused caterpillar.

“Oh. They all evacuated to New Zealand, but I’ll track them down when I get a minute.”

“I can’t believe that I’m chit-chatting with a cold-blooded murderer and don’t mind at all.”

Oleksiy made a rude noise. “There was nothing cold-blooded about it. I’m not interested in fancy excuses like street justice, vengeance, or preemptive defense, stuff that Antin and Maksym were talking about. That scum was just not allowed to be in the same country as you much less within ten kilometers. That’s what it was, all it was.” He shrugged. “I was furious.”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll go to jail?”

“Or get a medal or both. I don’t mind going to jail for it. And it turned out that shitface was raping his way across the countryside. I forgot to tell you that part. It’s on one of the phones Antin swiped.”

Marynia jerked upright. “Are there pictures of me?”

“Not that I know of. It started afterward. Names, dates, locations. Prices.”

“Oh, my god. I hadn’t even thought of that. And it’s exactly the sort of thing they do. God, it makes me sick. They’re so filthy.” She sat back, took deep breaths, and rubbed her temples. “How many? How many were on the list?”

“Nineteen. Let’s not talk about it anymore right now. It makes me sick, too.” He glanced over at her. “There’s something else I want to talk about. Do you mind that I tease you? Sometimes it seems to me like you do, but I can’t tell.”

She didn’t really want to talk about that either, but she probably should. She sighed and wiped away the tears. “Give me a minute. I haven’t had time to think about it much. My brain was just starting to work again. Now it’s back to the blue screen.” She tried to sort through the fleeting fragments, put it together. “Yes and no. I’m not used to it. It’s flirting. I’m not used to that. It’s, um, I don’t know yet. It’s kind of fun, but I don’t know. My mom … No, I don’t want to talk about her. But … it’s not important that I like everything about you. You should be yourself. Because that’s how I’ll trust you. If I trust you and then find out … find out I trusted … someone who didn’t exist. Because I was deceived. That you’re not … that you were never real. That would be bad. I hate that. It’s happened too many times. Just be yourself.”

“So, I should’ve told you about shooting Humper.”

Marynia tried to think. “It’s not the same, and it’s giving me a headache. I would rather you had. But you were being yourself when you didn’t.”

“Hmm. I don’t think so.” He made a doubtful face. “Being myself would’ve been rose petals strewn in my path. Marching bands. Noble statues of me on every corner.” He whipped off his glasses and struck a pose. “Fanfares whenever I—”

Zlata edged through the door.

Larysa leaped up.

“He’s going to be all right.”

Larysa burst into tears, and Zlata hugged her. Everyone nearby joined in and wound up collapsed to the ground in a pile, laughing and crying.

Marynia slumped back and covered her eyes. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

* * *

“You’re pregnant by whom?”

Zlata fisted her hands on her hips. “Oleksiy!”

“Slap him. Although I have to say I think Oleksiy will be a great dad. But I thought he liked Marynia.” Maksym stroked his bare chin. It felt weird. “You don’t think he’ll be a great dad?”

“The media!”

“Slap them first. And I don’t think they’ll be a great dad.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right. It’s just infuriating, all the lies.”

He shrugged with one shoulder. “It’s a war. With all we witnessed and documented, discredit is at the very top of some agendas, and everyone wants a story. If we ignore them, they’ll go away soon enough.”

Borysko said, “Can I slap Oleksiy?” He was admiring the Upstanding Citizen medal pinned to his chest that he had received from the police for saving Lyaksandro, Ayana, and Dalila from the doctors.

“Not right now, young bull. We have to say goodbye to Yaryna and Anichka first. Then you can slap him.” Maksym settled the boy on his lap.

“How come I’m not pegrant? I want a baby.” The young bull crossed his little arms over his chest.

“Because you never wash your face.” Maksym shook a finger at him. “Unless you start washing your face, you’ll never get pegrant.”

Zlata frowned. “You shouldn’t tell him such things.”

“Why not? At least it’s kind of true.”

“Good point.” She sighed. “Ready?”

Maksym took a deep breath. “Ready.”

She pushed the wheelchair forward. A short trip through the hospital ended at a bus surrounded by security.

Borysko was thrilled with the wheelchair lift.

Maksym wasn’t thrilled.

The journey didn’t take long. The streets near the church were packed. Barriers were up and manned by police. The bus slowly pushed forward, and the little boy’s thumb crept up to his mouth.

“It’s all right. The people are here because they’re sad about Yaryna.” Maksym hugged him with his good arm. “Look. They’re not yelling or shoving or trying to steal kids. They’re just here to be sad with us.” Hopefully. He watched the little hand press against the window as Borysko scanned the crowds, looking, searching. For Yaryna. Anichka. Mommy. Daddy. He still spoke of them as if they were just around the corner. They’ll be back in a minute.

The bus pulled to the curb, the others exited via the side door, and the driver lowered Maksym to the pavement.

Larysa handed them their flowers and took over management of the wheelchair from Zlata, pushing it forward to join the queue by the tiny, white coffin. Oleksiy, Grygoriy, Marynia, and Veronika were pallbearers. Katryna stood behind them, listing to one side, supported by Bako and Priti. Next, Mykola and Nadiya carried Dalila and Ayana. Zlata joined Bilyal and Krystiyan and took their hands. Antin stood with his Mykhailo and Lyaksandro. Myroslava had her arms around Sofiyko and Viktoriya. Bells rang and the procession paced forward.

The memorial service for Anichka would take place tomorrow. Happy, kind, brave, beloved Anichka. The little dancer, everyone’s friend. The days after were filled with memorial services for all their lost loved ones. Long, sad days.

As Larysa rolled his chair to the reserved section next to the little, closed casket, Maksym gazed at the favorite pictures of Yaryna displayed on stands. Twenty-four pictures. They were beautiful. Yaryna by herself, and then the baby with each of them. There had been so many to choose from. He had picked the one of himself carrying Yaryna on his shoulders, her puffy, pink snowsuit with the little, white bunnies brightly outlined a crystal-blue sky. She was so happy. He was so happy.

He wondered if he would ever forgive himself. The torment was ever present. He had been well aware that vicious murderers were near, and yet he had let the baby out of his sight. What should he have done differently? What could he have done?

Little Yaryna. Her boundless love, her contagious joy, her trust. After everything she had suffered. The tears started. He closed his eyes.

The children played in the small park across from the hospital. It was warmer today.

“Can I have the boots now?”

Maksym looked at his feet. “No. It’s too cold.”

Lisa snorted and stretched her comparatively short legs in front of her. “You’ll be safer without them.”

“Do you really need them?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Neither does anyone else. If it were me, I’d give boots to someone who will let me untie them rather than those who will chop my feet off to get them. Look at that!” She nodded at Borysko who was walking across the top of the monkey bars. “How does he do that? It looks like magic.”

A scream shattered the illusion of almost-normal into a million pieces. Maksym leaped up and reached inside his jacket while the children froze or dropped to the ground.

Yelling incoherently, Bilyal flew like a little rocket toward the man and woman running across the playground. Uncle Redvan scooped him up. They sat on a nearby bench, huddled together.

Maksym exhaled in a loud whoosh and sat down awkwardly, using his cane. “They made good time; Antin only found them yesterday. Uncle Redvan was stunned. No one lived in the village anymore, and the people in the closest town thought everyone had died.”

“A priceless gift.”

He sat in silence, watching the reunion. The little ones clustered around Bilyal from time to time, satisfying their curiosity. Borysko was disappointed that Uncle Redvan hadn’t brought any eagles and came to Maksym to complain about it. Eventually, the new arrivals strolled over. Maksym stood. “Uncle Redvan … I’m sorry, we’ve always called you that. Uncle Redvan of the eagles. I don’t know your last name.”

“I like it. I’m honored. You must be Maksym.” The man smiled and grasped his hand. “Please meet my wife, Aunt Selime of the eagles. We can’t express our joy. There are no words. We want you all to come stay with us. There are cabins in the park where I work, and you can use them for as long as you need. That section isn’t open to the public yet, and if you come, it will stay closed. The surrounding community is in full agreement. We want you all to come, we want to help.” He smiled at the little boy holding hands with Selime. “And Bilyal wants you to come, very much.”

It sounded perfect. A tranquil place to hunker down while plans were made, family was found, and documents were recovered or reissued. And it boded well that Redvan and Selime obviously adored Bilyal, and it was reciprocated. Maksym smiled. “Thank you. It’s very kind. We have to talk about it, but I think it’s very likely that we’ll come, if we can.”

Bilyal tugged his hand. “I don’t want anyone to go away anymore.” His overgrown, golden-brown hair floated and glinted in the breeze as he looked up at Maksym.

“It sounds great, Bilyal, but we have to make sure Dalila, Ayana, and Borysko can come. We can’t leave them here all alone. We’ll talk more about it later, when everyone is back at the apartments. Go have some fun, now.” He squeezed the boy’s hand and let him go.

Selime’s chin trembled as she pressed a handkerchief to her eyes. “I hope you’ll all come.” She smiled down at Bilyal. “May we meet the rest of your friends?”

He grabbed her hand and towed her to where the middle children were playing a loud, contentious, ball game. Redvan trotted after.

Lisa looked over. “Sit, before you fall. What are you going to do?”

Maksym sat and shrugged. “I can’t say right now. Probably fly to the eagles.”

“Pretty isolated.”

He looked at her. “That’s a good thing until they quit trying to separate us as if we’re suddenly going to stop caring about each other. We’ve had enough brutal losses. We need some time to say goodbye. And Antin, Myroslava, and Viktoriya have to leave the country. It’s a convenient spot for that.”

She made a doubtful face. “If I were their dad, I’d be having second thoughts about abducting my resentful, twelve-year-old kids who mowed down squads of my own soldiers and destroyed a tank, a multiple rocket launcher, and a couple of transports. It cost the orcs billions to kill Yaryna. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that dear Daddy is in some unheard-of gulag, thanks to his busy offspring.”

“Shit. They were recognized? Someone talked?”

“If you recall, there were a couple of fairly clear days so all the satellites and drones were yelping, racing around, sticking snouts into everyone’s crotches. That particular damp sniff was actually directed at something else, but the entire incident was captured—you with your empty hands in the air and Yaryna gunned down by zwastikas—and you were, it wasn’t just a stray warning shot or two, those stupid assholes—and we can’t assume that we’re the only ones who recorded it, either from the air or on the ground, at the scene. It’s highly unlikely. However, your rescuers were wearing gaiters and camouflage. But add in the media coverage, and the field narrows tremendously. Height can be estimated pretty accurately. Dear Daddy had put the word out for the minions to be on the watch: 160 centimeters tall, blond hair, blue eyes, angelic expressions. He forgot to mention the part about armed, dangerous, and very likely to help themselves to any anti-tank rocket launchers that are lying around and know how to use them. The zwastika survivors are officially proclaiming that they were attacked by titans armed with nuclear warheads—not tweenies—which is the absolute, undeniable, unassailable truth and they’re sticking to it, so right about now they’re all receiving the baby-with-kitten medals for outstanding bravery. Last but not least, it wouldn’t surprise me if someone talked, too.” She shrugged. “People do let things slip, not necessarily on purpose. We’re keeping an eye on the three of them, semi-protective custody.”

“That might be difficult if we fly to the eagles.”

Lisa laughed. “Everyone and their grandpa will volunteer for that cushy assignment. How are they doing?”

“Not good.” Maksym crossed his right arm over his chest, supporting the left. That felt a little better. “Nothing will ever be proved.”

“The neighbors are sure?”

“Yes. Two eyewitnesses.” He sighed. “Their mother and grandmother were abducted at night with bags over their heads by zwastikas. Grandma was dragged down the street. One of the witnesses went out the next day and collected her slippers. They were hand-embroidered, that was what Grandma liked to do. Definitely hers, all three identified them. The bodies were found a few weeks later, dumped in the basement of a bombed apartment a few blocks over. They had been tortured.”

She sighed.

They sat in silence, watching the game. Redvan joined in but obviously had no idea what the rules were, which was not surprising since they were the subject of fiery disputes every five minutes.

Maksym glanced to the right. Grygoriy was sitting on a nearby bench reading a book to Katryna. She still looked like she had just risen from the dead and there were no signs of the cheerful chatter or elfin smile, but she seemed a little better every day. Selime and Zlata joined them.

“How’s the shoulder?” Lisa cleaned her cat-eye glasses with her scarf, obviously not very interested in anyone’s bullet wounds.

He shot her a look. “Nice of you to be concerned for the poor boy.”

“Phooey. If you’re going to go hermit in some eagle-infested thicket in the god-forsaken mountains when two of your limbs are barely functional, you might want to check first if there’s a hospital nearby. Just saying.” Lisa tapped steepled fingers together meditatively. “The chances of you being able to abscond with the three little ones is very low. I’ll get with Redvan and Selime later, pave the way a little, make sure they talk to the right people. Of course, it’s quite possible to go for a weekend visit to a park and refuse to come back. Then they have to send the police who have no interest in doing any such thing, and it won’t play well. That might be the better option, vamoose and deal with the red tape later. We’ll see what Redvan says.”

“What do you really do? Why are you here?”

“What did I say yesterday?”

“I don’t remember, but it wasn’t the same as the day before. Or the day before that.”

“Huh. I usually work for the Obscure Devices Division of the Office of Odd Operations, but sometimes I get roped in by Mitigation of Monstrous Misconduct’s Misleading Information Systems Section.” Lisa blew a strand of hair off of her nose and shoved her glasses back on her face. “By the way, we’re missing a scope. Some miscreant managed to hack security and tamper with the locator, thrilling multiple departments of geeks and nerds across several continents. The gadget was last seen at the South Pole when moments before it was around here somewhere. How that was done is worth a lot of money to both the right and the wrong people. Now, about those boots.” She examined him impatiently.

Maksym rolled his eyes.