"You could die because of me." There’s a challenge in her voice as she says it.
I laugh grimly. "I could die because of a lot of things. I live a very dangerous life, Svetlana. At least this way I'll die knowing I did the right thing."
She blinks at me. "The right thing. Is that what this is?"
I shrug again. “It seemed like it at the time.”
She finishes her stew and sets the cup down on the table. She's still shivering slightly, but it's better than before. She’s pulled the blanket back around herself.
"You should sleep," I tell her. "You need rest. I’ll find the rest of the blankets and make up the bed for you.”
"What about you?" She peers at me. “You’ve been up all night, haven’t you?”
I nod. "I need to keep watch, though. We can’t both sleep. I need to make sure no one followed us."
She winces. "They won't find us in this storm."
“Probably not,” I agree. “But I'm not taking chances. I’ve been awake longer than this before."
She looks at me for a long moment, then nods. I take our cups and spoons and set them aside to clean out later. The hunters left some jugs of water here, and I set one next to the stove to thaw earlier. I pour some out in a cup and hand it to her as I go to a cupboard and find sheets, blankets, and pillows to make up the bed.
A few minutes later, it looks surprisingly comfortable, despite the simplicity. Svetlana makes her way over to it shakily, then lowers herself onto the mattress, curling up beneath the layers of blankets. She shifts, as if sinking down into what’s probably the first semi-comfortable bed she’s slept in in quite some time, and her eyes drift closed.
She’s asleep within seconds, exhaustion claiming her as her breathing evens out, and I see her relax. I add more wood to the stove, then move to the window. It’s boarded over, but there's a gap where I can see out. There’s nothing but white. The storm is still raging, showing no signs of letting up.
As far as I’m concerned, that’s fine right now. We have water and food and heat, and it’ll be nearly impossible for them to get to us in this. Svetlana can rest, then I can rest, and then I can figure out how the hell I’m going to get us out of here.
I settle into the chair, positioning it so I can see both the door and the window and keep my gun in my hand, safety off. If anyone comes through that door, they'll be dead before they take two steps.
But no one comes.
And for a little while, it feels like we might actually have made it out of this.
5
SVETLANA
Iwake to the smell of woodsmoke and the sound of wind howling against the cabin walls.
For a moment, I don't know where I am. The ceiling above me is rough wood, not concrete. There's warmth instead of cold. The air doesn't smell like mold and my own filth.
I’m in a bed. I flex my fingers against the sheet under me; cotton, nothing fancy, but it feels better than anything I’ve slept in for quite some time.
My eyes feel sticky, and I rub them gently, blinking them open to see the thin light filtering through the cracks in the boarded-up windows.
The escape. The wreck. The storm. Kazimir.
I turn my head carefully, testing my body's response. Everything still hurts, my face especially, which feels swollen still and bruised down to the bone with the particularly sharp pain that comes the day after an injury. And some parts of me, while still sore and aching, feel a little better after an actual good night’s sleep.
I feel like, if things kept going this way, I might actually have a chance to start to heal.
Kazimir is sitting in a chair by the window. He's watching the storm outside, his profile sharp in the gray morning light. He hasn't shaved, and there’s dark stubble on his jaw, making him look rougher, even more dangerous. His hair, which is slightly longer on top, looks as if he’s been running his fingers through it repeatedly.
He looks exhausted. Like he hasn't slept at all.
I start to push myself up to a sitting position. Pain ricochets through my body, and I immediately think better of it, staying lying down on my side instead. "You stayed up all night.” My voice still sounds rough when I speak, but more with sleep now than from the pain.
He doesn't startle. He must have heard me wake up. He glances over at me, his eyes just as exhausted. "Someone had to."
