by Dan Smith
I took him round the shelter and into the trees on the other side from where we had come into this place. I stood on the edge of the disturbance where our prey had dragged the snow into a pile to make his shelter and I pointed at the ground.
‘You see,’ I said. ‘Still alive. And my guess is they set out just before dawn – like we did.’
In front of us, leading out into the trees, the trail continued. Two sets of footprints. One large, one small.
12
We followed the prints which led on and on through the trees, avoiding the open spaces. The trail remained within the forest wherever possible, staying where the snow was most shallow, and we were glad not to have to venture out where it would be much deeper. On the open steppe, the snow would be over our boots, maybe higher in the places where the wind had swept it into drifts and whipped the land into a pale desert of dunes and ripples so beautiful and white one could hardly believe this weather could kill a man in just a few moments.
We’d been walking most of the morning and were all tired now, wondering if we were gaining on our quarry. Dimitri was silent, and I knew his mind would be focused on Dariya, so that all other thought would be consumed. I’d hoped we would find her early, while all the tracks were fresh and we were well rested from a good night’s sleep, but the child thief had been more resourceful than I expected and I was worried there was too much distance between us.
The shelter had surprised me. That the child thief had found a good spot for a fire, well hidden, concerned me. Whoever we were following was knowledgeable and able to survive outside in conditions that would close around most people in no time at all. And yet, with all his ability, he had left an easy trail to follow, and that troubled me. Putting myself in the place of the kidnapper, I knew that covering the tracks would be difficult. The only sure way to erase them would be under another snowfall, but even then it would need to be heavy. Under light snow, prints are still distinguishable. It would be possible to create false trails, but that would take time and I guessed the man must have decided to move quickly, keep ahead of us until he found a place to adequately erase the signs he left behind. It made no sense, otherwise. There hadn’t been any attempt to confuse potential pursuers.
We had come a few kilometres from the village, and there were other settlements in the area where we were travelling. North of our position now, the village of Uroz hid in a shallow valley much like our own, but it might as well have not existed at all. For us, there was only the snow and the trees and the wind. Nothing else. Whoever we were following, he had stayed clear of anywhere there might be people. He had skirted around Vyriv, seizing an opportunity, and then continued into the wilderness.
‘We should stop,’ I said.
‘Stop?’ Dimitri was by my side and I sensed his tension increase. He needed an enemy and, although I was helping him, I was the closest he had.
‘Rest for a moment, regain our strength. We’ve been walking all morning.’
‘I’m not tired,’ Viktor said. ‘I can walk further.’
‘Me too,’ Petro agreed as the boys came to join us.
I pulled the scarf away from my mouth and nose, allowing the cold air to bite at my face.
‘We can’t wait. We don’t need to rest,’ Dimitri said. ‘What we need is to find Dariya. How can you even—’
‘Is anybody thirsty?’ I asked. ‘We need to keep fresh.’
Dimitri turned and walked away from me. Just a few steps to show his displeasure.
I looked at Viktor and Petro. ‘Thirsty?’
They shook their heads.
‘All right then. We’ll go on.’ I pulled the scarf back over my face and began moving again. I could feel the cold creeping into my joints. My knees were stiff and there was a faint pain with each step, but my resolve was strong.
I went on ahead, walking alongside the marks in the snow, watching the land in front, squinting into the distance, trying to see any sign of movement in the trees. I knew the kidnapper would be well out of sight, but I watched anyway. Something might have happened to slow him down, and if that were the case, I needed to be vigilant.
Behind me the others followed in single file, keeping the disturbance to a minimum.
I turned when I heard footsteps quicken behind me and I nodded to Petro, who fell in step with me, walking by my side. His back was straight despite his pack and the heavy rifle he carried over his shoulder. As if he were showing me how strong he was.
‘Do you think she’s all right?’ he asked. His voice was muffled behind his scarf and he spoke quietly so Dimitri wouldn’t hear.
‘I hope so,’ I said. ‘I can’t do anything more than that.’
Petro was quiet for a moment.
‘There’s something on your mind?’ I asked, shifting the weight of my rifle. The strap was catching on the shoulder of my coat, pulling it to one side.
Petro looked at me. ‘Does Dimitri blame me?’
‘Blame you for what?’
‘For what’s happened?’
‘Why should he blame you?’
‘Because I brought Lara home but left Dariya to play.’
‘No one blames you for anything. And I don’t want you to blame yourself. No one is to blame but whoever took her. No one.’
‘And you really believe we’ll find her?’
‘Yes, I really believe that.’
‘And this man. Or whoever it is …’
‘Yes?’
‘What will you do?’
‘What would you do?’
‘I don’t know.’
Petro and I were alike in many ways – many more than I understood – but this was something that made us very different. Petro didn’t know what he would do. I, on the other hand, knew exactly what I would do. I would take whatever weapon was to hand, whether it was my rifle or my fingers, and I would take the man’s life from him. I would punish him for what he had done to the two children I buried yesterday. I would punish him for taking Dariya. And I would punish him for turning the people of Vyriv into frightened animals.
Petro lowered his head to watch his feet. ‘I hope she’s all right, Papa.’
I shifted my rifle again and stared ahead.
When we came to the edge of the trees and emerged onto the open steppe, the first thing I noticed was the red stain on the ground. It lay there like an insult. A single splash, no bigger than a man’s fist, surrounded by spots that had sunk just below the surface of the disturbed snow. It was striking, the bright red against the bright white. Like the bold red of the communist flag flapping against a white winter sky.
From this spot, the land sloped up for a short distance, coming to a ridge, concealing the rest of the steppe beyond. There were tracks moving up the ridge, but there was also a mess of tracks running off to the right, along the line of the trees.
I held up a hand to stop the others from coming closer, waving them to one side, showing them not to disturb the tracks.
‘Is that blood?’ Dimitri asked, stepping forward.
‘Stay back.’
‘Is it blood?’ he asked again.
‘Yes, but it’s not much.’ I moved closer for a better look. The ground was a mess here, much like it was back at the shelter.
‘Is it Dariya’s?’ Dimitri said.
‘I don’t know.’
‘You think she tried to get away again?’ Viktor asked.
‘Maybe.’ I studied the area. ‘But if she did, that’s good. It means she’s still strong.’ I looked up at Dimitri. ‘She’s a strong girl. The more I see, the more I know she’ll be fine. I think—’
‘You’re enjoying yourself.’
‘What? Not this again, Dimitri.’
‘I can see it in your eyes,’ he said. ‘This is thrilling for you. That could be my daughter’s blood and it’s exciting you. If you could see yourself …’
‘I’m just trying to find Dariya.’
‘But it makes you feel alive, doesn’t it? Being a farmer could never be e
nough for you. For God’s sake, how many times did you change sides in the war? Imperial, revolutionary, anarchist. You were looking for excitement.’
I wasn’t sure what to say. There was truth in his accusation. There were times when being a farmer wasn’t enough for me. It was a very different life from the one I’d had before coming to Vyriv, and, as much as I hated to acknowledge it, I sometimes craved the exhilaration of adrenalin, the closeness to danger and the camaraderie that had carried me through the worst of times. There was no bond like the one between men who had fought together; no other experience could sharpen and focus you the way combat did. But it was more like a drug than anything else. My rational mind wanted to distance itself from those things, to think only of family and duty, but a part of me needed that stimulation.
‘You’re wrong,’ I said. ‘I joined the revolution because I believed in it, but when I saw what they did to their own soldiers, I couldn’t be a part of it.’
‘Don’t expect me to feel sympathy for you …’
‘I don’t.’
‘… or to respect you …’
‘I don’t care what you think.’
‘… and don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this. Hunting. The excitement. You’re enjoying it. I can see it in your eyes; hear it in your voice.’
‘Then make the most of it,’ I said, remaining calm. ‘Take advantage of what I know and what I can do. Stop moaning and let me find your daughter. Or do you think you could do it alone?’
Dimitri stared.
‘Now, instead of wasting time with this, have a look that way.’ I pointed north along the line of the trees. ‘See if you can find anything else. Viktor, you go with him.’
‘And me?’ Petro asked.
‘You stay with me.’
Dimitri stayed where he was. ‘This isn’t a game.’
‘Do you want to find Dariya or not?’ I asked him.
‘Of course.’
‘Then go that way and look for her.’
Dimitri hesitated, shook his head once, and turned away. I watched him and Viktor move off before I went back to looking at the marks in the snow.
‘What the hell’s wrong with him?’ I said.
‘Maybe he feels inadequate,’ Petro suggested.
‘Inadequate?’ I crouched, took off a glove and felt the tracks, put my finger on the place where the boot sole was damaged, as if I were making a connection with the man who wore it.
‘He doesn’t want to rely on you. He wants to be able to do this himself.’
‘He’s a farmer.’ I stood and shifted my rifle and pack. ‘He grows potatoes.’
‘He’s a proud man. And he’s Dariya’s father. He wants to be able to do what you can do, but he hates you, and that makes him angry.’
I looked at Petro, not sure if I understood what he was saying. ‘I’m doing everything I can to find Dariya. It should be enough for him.’
‘He’s always treated you with disrespect and now he needs you. I think he’s ashamed he had to ask for your help.’
‘He has a lot of things to be ashamed of, but that isn’t one of them.’
‘Maybe you’re too hard on him, Papa.’
For a moment I thought how grown-up my son sounded. Almost like Natalia, trying to understand why people did the things they did. ‘I’m not hard on him. Not hard enough.’
‘You—’
‘He killed a man,’ I said. ‘He and the others, they hanged a man right in the middle of our village, and that’s why he’s angry – because this is his fault. While he was murdering the wrong man, the real killer stole his daughter. That’s why he’s ashamed.’
‘I suppose they were afraid.’
‘That’s what your mother said, but she knew it wasn’t an excuse – just like you know.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Men like Dimitri are cowards. They stir people’s thoughts, swell their anger, and when the mob does something wrong, they distance themselves from it and say it wasn’t their fault.’
‘He wasn’t alone.’
‘No, but he whipped those people into a frenzy. What happened was his fault, and that man they hanged deserved better.’ I stared at the blood in the snow. ‘You know, I once saw a mob of revolutionaries turn on their officer in Galicia, and it wasn’t much different from what they did to that stranger.’
‘What happened?’
I thought about telling my son what I’d seen. My own unit was refusing to march because the committee hadn’t yet made a decision, so our officer had climbed up on an ammunition box and tried to reason with us. When that didn’t work he tried threatening us. I could see what was happening – the men beginning to taunt the officer, throw pieces of bread at him, insult him, spit at him – and I told him to go while he still could. The officer refused, so I dragged him down from the box and told him to run, but the men misread my actions and they cheered as the officer stumbled. They moved closer, jeering, pushing him to the ground. I tried to stop them, just as I’d tried to stop Dimitri, but when the first man put his bayonet in him, the others followed, and I could only stand by and watch, as helpless as I had been in Vyriv two days ago.
‘It’s not important,’ I said to Petro. ‘It doesn’t matter any more. We have other things to worry about now. These are their tracks.’ I indicated the disturbance in the snow. ‘But it’s hard to tell what happened here.’
Petro watched me, perhaps wondering what it was that gave me such a pained expression. ‘Maybe he’s tried to confuse us. Leave a trail in each direction so we don’t know which way he went.’
‘Mm. Maybe. But I don’t know.’ I shook my head. ‘It’s as if he wants us to follow him.’
‘What?’
‘It’s just a feeling.’
‘But you still think Dariya’s all right?’
‘She’s a fighter,’ I said. ‘Who would think an eight-year-old girl would have such fight in her? Look at all this mess. I think she tried to run from him, push him away maybe, run out into the snow. She went that way.’ I pointed at the tracks that led away in the direction Viktor and Dimitri had gone. ‘That’s why it’s so messy – they were both running. But he caught her and brought her back to this spot before heading across the steppe.’
‘If that’s what you think, then why send Viktor over there? Why don’t we just go on ahead?’
‘Because I need to be sure there’s nothing that way,’ I said. ‘And because there’s blood. I’m afraid of what we might find over this ridge, and I don’t think Dimitri should be here.’
‘Maybe this isn’t her blood; maybe it’s his blood. She might have hurt him.’
‘Let’s see if we can find out,’ I said as we began following the tracks, cresting the ridge that led out onto the open steppe. ‘These marks were made by people moving quickly. See how the snow is dragged and pushed rather than pressed underfoot?’
Petro followed, both of us walking twenty metres or so out onto the steppe where the land swept away on all sides, open and clear. Here, out in the open, we came to another area where the snow was disturbed.
And here there was more blood.
Like before, it was concentrated mainly in one place, but there were also spots of it splattered around the surface of the snow.
I could sense Petro waiting for an answer.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ I told him. ‘There’s no way of knowing whose this is. No way. But it looks like someone had a fight. Like a bloodied nose or … I don’t know … like someone’s been spitting blood.’
‘Maybe he hit her.’
I shook my head and turned to look at the place we’d just come from; survey the line of trees behind us. ‘It looks wrong.’
‘What?’
‘It’s not right. As if someone intended to make this mess here. Back there, that looks to be where something happened, but here?’ I searched for an answer. ‘This here looks de liberate.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’m not sure I do either, but whatever happened here, th
ey went that way.’ I stared out at the land ahead. ‘I’m sure of it.’
‘Doesn’t he get tired?’ Petro asked.
‘Are you tired?’
‘A little.’
‘Then he will be too. Don’t worry; we’ll catch him.’ I took my binoculars and scanned the clear expanse of white, broken only by a single line of tracks. To the left and right, the country looked almost identical. In the distance, perhaps four hundred metres away, there was a low hedge, almost buried on this leeward side. The snow had drifted against it, piled thick and heavy, and I could just about make out the place where the tracks led to it. Beyond that another stretch of open steppe before more trees.
And as I watched, something caught my eye. A movement. Not much, but enough to make me look again. A slight disturbance in the natural order.
‘You see something?’ Petro asked.
I focused on the spot, inspecting every inch of the land, then began to sweep the binoculars from side to side, looking for anything that broke the clean lines of the snow. A bird in flight low over the steppe, or on the ground searching for food. A rabbit, a wolf, anything. Perhaps a man leading a child.
I watched, expecting more movement but seeing nothing.
‘Is there something there?’ Petro strained to see into the distance. ‘You see something?’
I took the lenses away from my eyes and stared out at the steppe hoping to sense movement again. ‘I don’t know. I thought I saw something. Maybe a bird.’ I continued to watch a while longer. ‘Must be all this snow playing tricks on my eyes.’ But I was sure there had been something.
If it had been a man leading a child, perhaps I’d had a glimpse of their movement as they entered the treeline in the distance, beyond the hedge. At this distance, with the snow as it was, maybe that’s what I had seen. Not something close to the hedge, but something further away. That would explain why I couldn’t see it now.
Petro looked up at the sky, turning, seeing the grey clouds moving in from the west. ‘I think it might snow,’ he said.
‘You’re right; we need to go,’ I agreed, telling Petro to move forward with me, away from the blood, before I called to the others to join us.