I hold my breath. My lungs start to burn, but I don't dare exhale. If they hear me, if they see me?—
A boot appears on the other side of the log. Less than six inches from my face. I can see the tread pattern. The way the snow clings to the leather. The frayed lace on the left side. I feel like I’m going to cry, but I can’t let myself. If I cry, they’ll hear me.
I press a gloved hand over my mouth, muffling any sound. Any breath.
"Anything?" Another voice, farther away.
"Nothing yet. Keep looking."
The boot moves. One step. Another. They're walking past me. My vision starts to tunnel. I need to breathe. I need to?—
I let out the breath as slowly as I can, a thin stream of air that I pray doesn't make a sound. Then I inhale, just as carefully.
"—probably froze to death by now anyway?—"
"Iosef wants proof. We can’t go back without a body."
Their voices are fading. Moving away. I wait. Count to one hundred. Then two hundred, my heart still beating so hard it hurts, until the forest falls silent again.
Where is Kazimir?
The question loops through my mind, growing more frantic with each repetition. What if they got him? What if he's lying somewhere in the snow, bleeding out? What if he's dead and I'm alone out here?
I can't stay here. If they circleback, they'll find me. And if Kazimir is hurt, or dead?—
I need to move. I ran away in order to get out of here on my own, somehow, and I can still do that. If I can get out of this forest, if I can get to a road…
Maybe I can flag down a car. Maybe someone will help me. I can do this, if I can just…
I push myself up slowly, every muscle screaming in protest. My feet are in agony when I put weight on them, the brief respite of sitting makes the pain worse when I stand. I look around, trying to orient myself, and it’s completely hopeless. I don’t have any sense of how to navigate, and the trees all look the same. The ground is a uniform white, our tracks already filling in with fresh powder as a lazy snow starts up again.
I have no idea which direction we came from. But I can’t stay here.
So I pick a direction and start moving.
8
SVETLANA
As the dark starts to close in, I know I’m lost. The realization feels as thick and suffocating as the snow falling around me.
I've been walking for... I don't know how long. Everything looks the same. The same trees, the same snow, the same gray sky visible through the branches. I try to retrace my steps, but my tracks are already disappearing. The wind is picking up, blowing snow across the ground, erasing any trace of my passage.
I stop, turning in another circle. My breath comes faster, clouds of white in the freezing air.Which way? Which fucking way?
I pick another direction and keep walking, listening for the sounds of the men again. My feet are beyond pain now. They're numb, which should be a relief, but I know it's not. The thought of frostbite keeps running through my head, thoughts of hypothermia, and all of the other ways I could die out here.
It’s better than being caught or sold again… but I don’t want to die. That’s become very clear to me, no matter how good it would feel to just sit down and stop.
The light is fading. I look up at the sky, and I can see that the gray is deepening, turning darker. Dusk is coming. How long until full dark? An hour? Less?
I need to find shelter.
An hour later, I can barely see where I'm going. I'm stumbling more than walking, my feet catching on roots and rocks hidden beneath the snow, so cold and numb that it feels like they’re detached from my body. The shaking has gotten worse. My whole body is trembling in violent shudders that I can't control. My teeth chatter so hard I'm afraid they'll crack. I need to stop and rest, but if I stop, I'll freeze.
Keep moving. Just keep moving. One foot in front of the other. That's all I have to do. One foot, then the other.
My thoughts are getting fuzzy around the edges. Soft. Like the snow. The snow is pretty. White and clean and?—
