Neither spoke. They clung together. Inhaling each other’s breath and letting their hearts hammer against each other’s. Dimly Anna was aware of voices shouting in the distance but she took no notice, just held Sofia tight and felt tears hot on her skin.
‘You’re free now,’ Sofia whispered.
The familiar sound of her voice gave Anna a sudden surge of strength that cleared her mind. She lifted her head and, without releasing her hold on Sofia, asked desperately, ‘Where’s Vasily?’
Death’s Messenger was called Mikhail. Even so, Anna would always think of him as Death’s Messenger in her own mind because he’d killed her father. Mikhail confessed that fact to her himself at their first stop for rest in the forest, and she wanted to tear out his heart there and then. To slice it into forty-one ragged pieces, one for each year of Papa’s life, but she couldn’t. It was clear he’d given that heart to Sofia and Anna would steal nothing from her friend.
‘Thank you for rescuing me, Mikhail,’ she said with cool politeness. ‘The debt is repaid. A life for a life.’
But she was glad to see the Messenger’s grey eyes remain tormented, and pleased that he felt the need to ask, ‘How many guards were killed back there?’
‘A handful compared to the number of prisoners you released.’
‘Still too many.’
‘No, Anna’s right,’ Sofia said, brushing her hand against his in a gesture of comfort. ‘You’ve given those women a chance at life.’
‘If they make it to freedom.’
‘Some will, some won’t. We will.’
Mikhail nodded stiffly. He lifted both women on to the grey horse’s back once more and set off with a long loping stride.
‘What does Vasily look like?’
They were lying on a blanket together, but Anna couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts wouldn’t stop. The moon was a giant disc in the sky, bigger than any moon she’d ever seen in the camp, the night breeze was full of secrets instead of stale and fetid, and the fresh smell of forest creatures made her giddy. It swamped her senses. She muffled her cough in her scarf and kept her eyes wide open. To miss even a single minute of her freedom would be a sin. They had travelled all night and hidden unseen among the trees by day under a green canopy of branches. They heard tracker dogs in the distance but none came near.
‘Is he still as I described to you?’ Anna asked.
‘He’s tall,’ Sofia said gently. ‘He stands very upright and swings his shoulders when he walks as if he knows exactly where he’s going. You feel he’s in control. Not just of the kolkhoz but of himself.’
‘Is he still handsome?’
‘Yes, he’s still handsome.’
‘Tell me more.’
‘Well.’ Sofia smiled and Anna could hear her picking her words carefully as she gazed up at the stars. ‘His eyes are the kind of grey that changes shade with his mood and they are always observant. He’s watching and thinking all the time.’ Sofia laughed softly and something in the laugh made Anna wonder if it was Vasily she was talking about. ‘He can be quite unnerving sometimes. But he gleams, Anna.’
‘Gleams?’
‘With belief. His certainty of the future he’s building gleams like gold.’
‘Tell me again what he said.’
‘Oh, Anna.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Why? It only hurts. Just remember that he gave the jewels for me to use to help you.’
‘I want to hear it again, what he said.’
‘He said Vasily is dead and gone… We must put aside personal loyalties… This is the way forward, the only way forward.’
Anna closed her eyes. ‘He’s right. You know he is.’
‘Anna,’ Mikhail spoke in a low voice so as not to wake Sofia, ‘she is not as strong as she pretends.’
‘You mean the wound in her stomach.’
‘Yes.’
‘She won’t tell me how it happened.’
Mikhail sighed. ‘It was a group of soldiers. They were taking our horses and she… tried to stop them.’
A soft rain was falling, muffling their voices as it pattered on the canvas stretched over their heads. Anna was sitting upright in her effort to breathe quietly beside Sofia, who was fretful and restless in her dreams. Mikhail stroked her shoulder, a gentle touch so tender that it made Anna want to cry.
‘Sofia mentioned a dog,’ she prompted.
Mikhail nodded. ‘Yes, there was one, an unwanted stray that she adopted and fed. It was extraordinary. When the shot was fired, it leapt in front of her and died from the bullet.’
‘Maybe it just jumped up with excitement.’
‘Maybe.’
‘But she was hit in the stomach anyway.’
‘Yes, but only a shallow wound. The bullet went through the dog first and then into her. An old man we were with at the time – the one who let us take one of his rifles – removed it and stitched her up. He said she was very lucky because at that range the bullet should have ripped holes through her vital organs but…’ He brushed the tangle of pale hair off Sofia’s sleeping face and the lines of his mouth curved and softened.
‘But what?’
‘But I don’t believe it was luck.’
‘So what was it?’
‘Something more than luck.’
For a while they were silent, watching the rain, then Anna whispered, ‘Mikhail, where are we going?’
A shadow crossed his features. ‘To Tivil, because I have a son there. Sofia and I have it all planned… we’ll collect him and after that we’ll use the remaining jewels to buy tickets for all four of us, as well as travel documents and new identities. And medicines for you. We’ll go somewhere safe and start a whole new life down by the Black Sea, where it’s warm and your lungs can heal.’
‘My father had a dacha down there.’
The mention of her father silenced him and she regretted it. They sat for a long time listening to the wind in the forest and Sofia’s murmurs in her sleep.
‘Will we make it, Mikhail? To Tivil?’
‘The truth is…’ he paused and leaned closer, ‘it’s unlikely, Anna. But don’t tell that to Sofia. She is so determined to make it and I’ll do everything in my power to get us there, I swear, but we’re fugitives. Our chances are…’ He didn’t finish.
‘Poor?’
‘I have only four shells left for the rifle.’
‘And the pistol?’
‘Two bullets.’ Something seemed to loosen inside him and he shuddered. ‘I’m saving them.’ He looked at Anna and then at Sofia, and it was obvious what he meant. ‘Just in case,’ he murmured, lowering his head to kiss Sofia’s hair.
No wonder Sofia was beautiful. To be loved like that would make anyone beautiful.
‘Thank you, Mikhail,’ Anna whispered.
‘Can you taste the air, Anna?’
It was night. A three-quarter moon lit their path through the forest and Mikhail walked ahead with the rifle while the two women rode the horse. For hours Sofia had walked stride for stride at his side but now she was seated behind Anna, holding her firmly in place. Anna couldn’t recall how or when that had happened. Dimly she had a memory of falling off.
‘Yes, I can taste it.’
‘What does it taste of?’
‘Of wild animals and wild birds and wild berries. Of nothing in cages.’
‘Wrong.’
‘Of clean water and soap and scrubbed fingernails.’
Sofia laughed. ‘Wrong.’
‘It tastes of hope.’ Anna took in a great mouthful of air, then leaned back weakly against Sofia’s warmth behind her. ‘Sweeter than honey on my tongue.’