Taking a drag of a Prima I stood in front of the statue at the centre of the village, having learned her name was Gabriella I wondered what sort of woman made for a guardian angel.
Then again perhaps it was only natural? The Motherland statue in Kyiv is such a case.
It was noon now, the day was still bright with soft white clouds partly covering the blue skies as I turned my eyes upward to the face of the statue, I wondered just how she was supposed to protect the village.
She may come to life and fight for them?
My thoughts were interrupted as I stood there by the smells of the village, nearby a baker prepared goods for a gaggle of children laughing and excitedly begging for something from him. Though we had eaten such a filling lunch only an hour ago, my soldiers' stomach ached for freshly baked pastries, walking over to the storefront that reminded me of a bakery I had seen once in Moscow while visiting my sister.
There was a counter window that looked out into the street with many ovens behind it with several other men wearing white outfits moving about, kneading dough, crushing wheat and other activities I couldn’t quite see.
The man in the window who was speaking with the children looked up at me raising a brow.
“You must be Illya?” He greeted me, breaking the attention of the children and turning them to me.
His eyes were like a goats, yellow irises with rectangular black pupils stretched horizontally. His face was pale, his hair was black and brown and had ears like a goats as well. I hadn’t noticed them before but he had great swirling horns growing out from the side of his head.
“I am, you are?”
“Yarhm, you’ll find everyone in the village knows who you are.” He breathed a huff of laughter. “Happens when a strange man appears covered in blood and mud carrying enough weight for three men dressed in odd clothes and delivering news of death.”
With little pause between his words he next asked-
“If you’re hungry I don’t mind sharing a loaf?” The man jammed his thumb over his shoulder toward the ovens as several loaves came out steaming with heat and perfectly cooked golden brown.
Shaking my head I denied myself the pleasure. “You can give mine to the children, they were here first and deserve it more.”
My answer caused a chuckle to erupt the man who agreed with my sentiment.
“Alright, well be safe Illya, men who wander are often robbed out on the roads- I’d hate to hear you and that girl died.” With that Yarhm completely shifted his attention to the kids and I took that as my leave.
Taking his warning to heart I put out my cigarette and lit up another as I headed back for where we were staying to sort through mine and Ivanovich’s packs properly.
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When I arrived however I wasn’t given the chance to get that far as Sveta launched herself into me as I entered our room, the small girl hugging me tightly as her gaunt face stared up at me with dull red eyes.
“Dobryy den’ little one.” I greeted the girl and she watched me with an expectant look.
I rubbed her head as I had done in the night and she tightened her embrace enjoying it, releasing herself when I stopped a moment later.
“Do you like it here, Sveta?” I asked, gauging her thoughts on whether she would like to stay with Miriam and Jun.
I didn’t wish to rid myself of her presence at the drop of a hat but I didn’t want to drag her around this country while I looked for the others in my squad.
Snow white hair bobbed as she nodded her head following me as I made to grab what I wished to sort through, she sat opposite me on the other bed in the room as I sat my bag on the bad and began removing things.
“Do you like the wife and her husband?” I followed up with and she was silent for a moment until I turned around to look at her for a response.
“Yes.” She answered in that quiet hoarse voice she had through the days.
“Would you like to live with them? Stay here that is?” I asked directly, she shook her head.
“I like…” Her face turned to a frown as she tried to find the words. “I want to stay with you.”
She smiled at drawing one out of me for a moment before I turned back to my sorting. I started first with setting aside the guns making sure they weren’t loaded and were safe before picking out the extra equipment such as the flashlights and knives.
“Do you remember the faces of the men who attacked your village?” My question received a shake of her head again.
Jun had called them Barivans, men who slaughtered those who did not have Angel Guardians. I wondered what the likelihood was that we encountered them on the road and my mind turned to teaching the ghostly girl how to fire the spare Makarov I now held.
I did not wish to see a child wield a gun, I had seen a ten year old boy buy a PTUR from our commander and who later was found dead near a blown out BMP steel melted and men killed inside by the same PTUR he had sold.
What made war the worst was that it was in colour no matter how much you think or wish it wasn’t, many days passed where gunfire raged day and night with no stop in sight and yet- the birds still sang and the sky was still blue.
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Sigh
“Sveta,” I got the girl's attention and she hopped off the bed padding over to my side as I retrieved Ivanovich’s pistol.
“Tomorrow I will show you how to use this, we may get attacked as we travel and I would like you to be able to defend yourself.”
Her dull eyes sparkled with curiosity that further imprinted the idea of a cat in my mind.
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On our third day of being in Grennich after helping our hosts with their work I asked them where I could go, where It would be safe to make a lot of noise and not have to worry about causing harm to anyone. They of course found this odd and I spent a long time trying to explain my guns to them eventually settling for just showing them which got the point across.
This led Sveta and I to the outskirts of the village past the farmland to where it bordered the woods, using my knife to carve several targets up for the girl. I first showed her how to dry fire the weapon and general safety with it.
She was as a sponge to water, taking in all the information I gave easily and understanding everything without much extra effort. This made short work of loading the Makarov and showing her how to fire it. Not wishing to see her knocked off her feet and hurt, I knelt behind her and helped stabilise her as she held the pistol with gloved hands after we found even only a little sunlight on her hands was too much for a few minutes.
The longer I spent with the girl the more it began to feel like taking care of a daughter than caring for an orphan.
“Are you ready Little One?” I asked and she nodded her head, the hood of Maksym’s jacket bobbing.
BANG
The recoil in her small hands, I thought, would have been too much, but she held it firm and easily.
Arching a brow I looked to our target, a set of circles marked on a tree some twenty feet from us.
“Впечатляющий” I said like it was a curse under my breath, she had hit dead centre, far better than I could have.
We were barely trained to fire our guns let alone hit targets, all posterity of marching like good soldiers, but none of those qualities were any good when the houses were firing on you from the windows and the tanks were unable to fight back. We would fire blindly into nothingness simply putting our bullets where the BMP cannons fired or others shot with no idea of whether it was doing anything.
Looking back the hooded girl was bright with excitement giddily looking up into my face for praise.
“Can we go again?!” She asked as well, her eyes were no longer dull, but as if the shot had woken that other side of her they glowed staring at me.
“I- yes…” My voice trailed off as I retrieved another 9x18 round from my pocket and gave it to her to load into the magazine and cock the gun.
Offering my hands to steady hers again she fired shortly after.
The pistol locked into its empty state as my eyes stayed on the target, thankfully she hadn’t hit the same point again but far lower down the tree almost out of the carved rings.
Her missing the target made me feel better about myself.
We continued like this until we’d fired twenty bullets. I had double this left, but did not wish to waste them all on training we would need them for the future.
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On the night of the fourth day I was ready to continue my journey to find those from my unit.
I hoped with all my being that God would spare me seeing the Kombat again, motherless bastard.
When I woke the morning of the fifth day, those early hours before dawn, Sveta waited with patience as I checked the packs a second time. Then she feasted like a starved beast on the hearty meal our hosts gave as a good luck and farewell. I took my time with the food- savouring it as I was unsure when we would have the hospitality of goodfolk again.
When it came to our supplies I had sold the bloody clothes of Ivanovich to a seamstress in Grennich, she had found them of poor make but thought she could use them as reference for a better garment giving me a handful of silver coins marked with a likeness to a man with a crown and the value- each worth five.
Five of what? I could not say.
It did not matter as I spent most of it purchasing a pair of dresses and a set of shoes for my charge as well as a sewing kit and food, said food was dried and smoked meats.
As she was small enough for it however I opted to put the holster of the Makarov around Sveta’s torso so it was easy to carry- though this was mostly because it did not fit elsewhere on her.
Setting off westward out of the village we were seen off by a troupe of those in the community I had interacted with in our short stay, Yarhm the baker, our hosts, Henrietta and Maor, butcher Kristen, seamstress Elania and few others who could spare time from their work as they needed to meet the quota for their ruler.
Placing a Prima between my lips I wordlessly lit the cigarette and turned my eyes toward the where our hosts had told me of a large town one- the one their levies were sent before transport to the capital.
There are only five left
My thoughts grew sorrowful for my treasured vice, there had been two half smoked cartons in Ivanovich’s pack and on his person which were now as one in my hip pocket. Exhaling the nicotine plume I shifted my weight ignoring that of the pack over my back, gun over my front and albino girl on my shoulders.
And so we walked.