Eventually, I had to carry poor woman back to cabin. The cold have taken its toll, along with the stress of previous events. She was not too heavy, but with pack and rifle I had to pause many times. She kept mumbling things during walk, most though in English, so I understood very little. It kept mind from going insane from the silence of surrounding. By time I made it back to cabin, it was nearly nightfall. I sighed at the long day, or at least the stressful recent events.
I entered cabin and set the women on my bed and started a fire. This “Rarity”, if that were truly her name, needed to get warm for fear of developing hypothermia. She was already pale as is, showing early signs of shock. Pulling her wet parka off of her, it revealed slender but curvy body. She was definitely not from around here. Not giving it a second thought I pulled blankets over her and wished sleep would do her well. Tending to the few cuts on her face, I left after there were nothing more I could do.
I gave her space, finding a spot on couch in front of fireplace. Somehow, I found one of my few books, in English even, and began to softly read aloud to self. Eventually bottle of vodka and few pieces of meat found their way into my hands. Pausing to stretch and churn fire, the night went by quickly.
* * *
“Arkady,” a voice called out from all around. I looked around, but there were no one, save for the bright white walls that surrounded me. I was alone, but not. I could feel presence of something.
“Arkady,” the voice called out again. Voice was woman, though not of one I saved yesterday. It was confident, soothing, motherly even. I turned around, still looking for source of voice. This small white room was still bare as bone.
I finally shook my head, “Hello? I am here. Who am I talking to? It is difficult to talk to someone who I do not know or see.”
“Then turn around and address the one who has brought you here,” the voice now coming from behind me. It was both speaking my mother tongue and in English. Strange.
Turning around to face this person, I found, not to much surprise, a woman. She was clad in flowing white dress, accented with gold lining. Her turquoise hair seemed to flow in the non existent wind. Her features were soft and smooth, like a rock smoothed over by river’s flowing water. Maybe early forties, but did not look it. She too was curvy, like woman I saved, and was nearly as tall as I.
“So,” I laughed. “Woman clad in white, I am speaking to Mother Winter?”
She returned the laugh, “If that helps you understand this, yes. I am Mother Winter. And you have saved one my children.”
“The woman I saved?” I thought back to the woman sleeping in my bed. “She is one of yours?”
Mother Winter nodded with a smile. “I would ask that you take care of her, please. She is much loved where she is from, and many would mourn if she were not to return.”
“And where is that? The West?” I scoffed. “Mother Winter asking me to save a woman from the West, a woman who wasn’t wise enough to bring anyone else with her.”
Mother Winter sighed, “I cannot explain everything at this time, but where she comes from is not important.”
I grew agitated, “If I am to help get her back, I must know where she must go in order for her to return to family and friends.”
“All in due time Arkady.” She placed a hand on my shoulder, “You must be patient. I ask that you just keep her safe.”
“Safe?!” My frustration flowing out, “I have killed three men to keep her safe, I could not place why I chose to save her, but my head is on line. Soon, I will be sought out, and I may be killed!” I had to force self not to grab and pin her against wall, but I got in her face. “Now, I want answer. What is she? Your Snegurochka? Your Snow Maiden?”
Even after such outburst, she was still smiling. “There are things in this world and other worlds, Arkady, that you don’t or ever will, understand. Sometime we have to have a little faith and pray that our… generosity will carry us through the day.”
I fought to answer, but placed two fingers on my forehead, then there was great flash of light.
* * *
I woke with start. Still in cabin, nothing had changed. I rubbed those thoughts continuously into head. You are not crazy, Arkady. Just shaken up. Only dream, you were not talking to Mother Winter about her Snegurochka, that would be crazy. I had to fight natural instinct to grab nearest bottle of vodka, drink it, and then roll over back to sleep.
Sun was slowly rising through windows. It was brand new day, but it had strange taste to it. Like mother’s stew that she decided to add new spices to it. At its base, it was the same stew, just was different that one could not usually find unless told. The fire had gone out, so I shivered a bit before getting off the couch. Stirring the coals, I was rewarded with small flame, which I slowly began to feed with more wood. Eventually, my efforts earned me a fire, licking for more wood-which I granted it. Slowly, the room and cabin became warm, welcoming even. I sighed happily at accomplishment.
With fire started, I went to check on guest. Quietly opening the door, I gazed at the figure in the bed. She was still asleep, her quiet breaths filling up room. Though it was hard to spot her figure in the mound of blankets that covered her. I laughed a bit. She was much like Nada, my sister, but I should not once think my sister would brave the harsh Siberian winter to come visit me. That would be very much unlike her.
Smiling and half-laughing, I closed door as quietly as I opened it. From here I went on to normal routine, but with a bit more added to it. I made double amount of coffee and cooked a bit more meat than usual. I figured in her state, she would want the coffee more than meat. I finished the meat and egg combination, leaving stove warm for her when she woke. Breakfast was worth two cups of coffee, pausing to watch snow slowly drift down outside of window was another cup, I returned to table with fourth cup, and was about to start my fifth when I opened English book and read while cleaning Mosin-Nagant. After yesterday’s turn of events, rifle needed good cleaning along with revolver.
Bolt and receiver of rifle came out of easily, after such it was easy cleaning. Though rifle did not truly need it, it was relaxing; which is what I truly needed. Killing three men, albeit criminals, for someone I did not even know. Arkady, you dumb fuck. Finding cigarette, I lit it, try to calm self down more. And now hallucinations of “Mother Winter,” Arkady, what did you do to deserve this? Taking another puff, I continued to clean. Taking time on such simple relaxing work, it kept mind from wandering too much. After thirty or so minutes with rifle, I felt satisfied with work, and put rifle together. There was slight joy when working the smooth bolt back into place. Memories of first reassembling rifle without flaw under watchful eye of grandfather crept forward in thoughts, followed with quick salute with coffee cup for great man.
Setting rifle down, I began work on revolver. It still had stains of Iosif’s blood, a reminder of yesterday’s transgressions. Though, transgressions were easily washed away. Another puff, another sip, and revolver was quickly cleaned. I spun cylinder like cowboy of old west, small smile appeared on my face.
I set revolver in holster then set it aside. I then went to work cleaning weapons I pulled off of thugs. They were only nine millimeters, Italian pieces of shit. Only good thing Italians were good for was pasta and art. Handguns not exactly highlight of Italian works. After disassembling poor excuses for guns, I found them to be in need of cleaning. I was surprised guns even worked. But guns needed cleaning and I need to clear head. So in end, Italian pieces of shit has some value. Eventually though, they would be sold to Nestor. I had very little need for more weapons.
I broke monotony between handguns to check on fire. I threw another log or two into fire to feed flames. Watching flames eat at the new food, beautiful. I took a last puff of cigarette, tossing butt into fire. I walked back to table and finished another cup of coffee; I decided to make second pot. I had saved some for woman, whenever she woke. With second pot prepared, I went to work on second pistol.
Cleaning second pistol went by faster than first, though mind seemed to wander more. More about this “Mother Winter” and of relation to woman I saved. With name like Rarity, I wondered what drugs her hippie parents were on to give her such name. I laughed to self; I wondered what I had taken to hallucinate about Mother Winter. Laughter grew when I thought that I had saved a bear yesterday, not woman, from thugs, and a dead bear now occupied my bed. I brought new cigarette to lips, lighting it.
Taking puff, still laughing to self, I thought for second, what if it were all true? Now, this stopped my laughter, what if woman was really named Rarity, and I really talked to “Mother Winter” last night? That world had finally given me my calling. I had to keep self from falling out of chair because I was laughing too hard. Even had to keep cigarette from burning me. Such a silly notion, but there had to be some truth, right?
I paused for second in thought, reassembling second beretta. Let the Italians make such a simple design need so many little parts. But it worked far better than in which I acquired it in. The action was much smoother, even tolerable. Putting unloaded magazine into handgun, I set aside and began work on the third one.
Third beretta was much flashier, probably Iosif’s personal weapon. Dual tone, with a personalized engraving on wood handgrip, something like angel of death. The irony made me chuckle. Upon disassembly, I found it in much better condition than others. It was to be an easy clean. Which left mind alone, again, to wander.
Woman spoke English, maybe from Britain, or for some reason, America. There was little to go on. Her more refined accent suggested more of former than latter, though her outfit suggested upper crust Moscow. Her name suggests American origin. It seemed as though woman was mystery. Like she came fro-
A door creaking open interrupted thoughts. Sleeping beauty was finally awake, it seemed. I turned attention away from Italian handgun to her entering the main room. Her face had spots of blue, not unlike color of her hair. She was still in clothes of yesterday, minus big white parka. Seemed uneasy on her feet, holding onto door for support.
“Good Morning,” I spoke in English, walking toward her. Offering warm smile and hand, which she took, I escorted her slowly to table. She sat in chair gingerly, still showing unease. “You sleep well?”
She nodded, looking nervously over the weapons laying on table. I sensed her discomfort and moved completed weapons away. I awkwardly stood for moment, unsure of what to do.
“Would you like coffee?” I motioned to pot on stove, slowly brewing coffee. “I admit, it is not best, but it is something, nyet?” I laughed nervously, trying to make light of situation.
Her smile still showed her unease, “A cup of coffee would be very nice, thank you,” she answered quietly.
I poured her and self another cup, putting bit of sugar and milk in her cup. I walked back and put her coffee in front of her. She stared at the grog for a bit before even attempting to take drink. When she did drink, look on face showed her dissatisfaction. But she took second sip, probably sign of her thankfulness of my generosity.
“So,” I began, trying to make small talk. “Ms. Rarity, you are long distance away from Moscow. I wonder why you came alone.”
She looked at me strange, “I don’t know about this Moscow you speak of, nor am I from there,” she answered quietly. “I also didn’t plan to come here, much less alone.”
I was confused, anyone with secondary school education knew about Moscow, much less Russia. “Ms. Rarity, your answer makes little sense. How can you not know about Moscow? And how could you not plan to come here?”
“Rarity will do just fine, Mr. Sakharov,” she paused, clearly hesitant. “Princ- Mother Winter told me it wasn’t important to say.”
“You talked to Mother Winter as well?” I grew agitated. These two seemed to be plotting against me. “What else has dear Mother decided to have me not know?”
“You think I enjoy being here?” Her voice grew louder, also a bit angry. “She too has told me very little as well.” She paused, “So far all she has said is that I need to get to Twilight.”
“Twilight?” I laughed openly, another adjective name for hippie child. “Twilight? Who in bloody hell is Twilight?”
“She is my friend and the only one who can get me out of this winter wasteland!” Her response was calmer than last, but easy to tell we were now arguing. I was happy to let argument continue.
“I happen to live in winter wasteland, and it is enjoyable. You have not lived here long enough to like it.” I began to take sip of coffee, “Maybe I introduce you to bear that change your mind.”
“I would much rather meet this bear than stay here. The bear probably has a better fashion sense than you, you brute.”
“FASHION!?” I was furious. Here I was, I saved woman, and I wanted answers. Yet, I was being criticized by my attire. “I wear what helps me survive, there is little room for fashion here. Do you think those criminals cared about what you wear? NO! Get idea through thick skull of yours! You are lucky I was there to help!”
She slumped back in chair, fuming. “And I thank you for that. But, I need to get to Twilight. She can solve all this. She is the smartest po- um person I know.”
“Okay, I can help.” my anger slowly leaving after last outburst. “Where is this Twilight? I would like to meet this person who can solve this problem.”
“She is in a big city,” she thought for second. “Some like the equivalent to Manehattan.”
“Manhattan? You mean New York?” I sighed sadly, putting head in hands. “That is some distance from here. Like on other side of world.” She sighed in despair as well. “But,” I started, kicking self mentally, “I will help. I am man of word. So I will help.”
Her face shone with pure bliss, “Oh you will!? Oh thank you thank you thank you thank you!” I believe she had to contain herself from jumping over table and smothering me.
“Right now, you are no condition to travel.” I spoke, trying to even believe what I was said. “We must wait till you are well. Also, you speak nothing like local, so you must learn. One more thing, you look nothing like local,” I chuckled knowing next thing to say, “So I have to get clothes to make you look more brutish.”
She rolled eyes, clearly annoyed at the idea, “Fine, I will not enjoy that, though I will go along with it. What is the plan after that, then?”
I thought for second, realizing I had thought of it from beginning. “You are my sister visiting to check on insane brother. Da?”
“I remember you mentioning a sister,” she thought of idea for moment. “Yes that will suffice.” Another pause, “What was your sister’s name?”
“Nada,” I smiled at remembering sibling. “She was smart to stay along Volga. She was the smart one, liked to argue.”
“I am so glad I am such a splitting image of your sister. I guess this plan will work for now. But after that, the clothes, and the language, how are we getting to New York?”
“I have favors I need to redeem, maybe enough to get us to Alaska; even Canada if lucky. This is truly long shot.” I took another sip of coffee, “We also have to be wary of other criminals. Ones that captured you will not be first, you must learn to shoot.”
She looked nervously at still disassembled handgun in front of me, “You mean you that thing? You mean I may have to k-kill someone?”
“If such events occur that our lives are on line, da. I expect you to do necessary things in order to survive. Criminals will not show mercy, and will kill you.”
She looked worried, “K-kill me? That can’t happen to me. Y-you won’t let them do that, will you?”
I chuckled, “Miss, there have been many things that have tried to kill me. None have succeeded. I will do everything in power to keep you safe. Events may cause for events for you to protect yourself. It is for best.”
“What about pri- Mother Winter? I think she will help us get to Twilight. She will help us and protect us.
I started to stand, taking final sip of coffee, “The deities above can watch, we here on Earth must act. I have not lived this long to have person above tell me what I should do now. Now,” offering hand, “we have much to do, but you need rest.”
Hesitantly, she took hand and I led her to bedroom. I helped her get into bed, “I will be back with books, so you can understand few things about Russia,” I smiled, “and I will make you some soup, I hope it is better than coffee.”
She laughed, but it was strained, she was obviously still injured. “That would be lovely, thank you.” I turned and started toward kitchen, “You… you are very generous.”
I stopped, thinking for moment, “Sometimes small things we do now may or may not redeem ourselves later. It does not mean we do not do them.” Another pause adding smile, “I will be back with your soup.”