They'd been walking for hours in the freezing temperatures and the first of the winter snow, putting miles between them and what was left of the small Romanian village that had given them sanctuary.

Trudging along in single file to hide their numbers, if they were indeed being tracked; the dark-haired American and his Russian partner were at the rear of a column of nearly thirty people who'd abandoned the village of Sorinesti, in fear of retribution from the government forces for giving shelter to Solo and Kuryakin. They were dressed in clothing similar to the villagers, with heavy winter coats and caps on their heads to ward off the cold.

Lookouts had warned troops were only miles away, and the villagers quickly gathered up what few belongings they could, heading out after Illya and Napoleon had pleaded with them to do so. They'd convinced them it was best to escape, as they were sure there's be retribution. The UNCLE agents couldn't sway everyone and some decided to remain behind. Illya he shook his head in disappointment, knowing the village would be laid waste for giving him and his partner shelter and those who stayed would surely die.

Those who chose to stay were led to believe the plan was to escape to the Western border. It was hoped that would get the troops off everyone's tail for a time, though it wouldn't be a permanent solution.

The Secret police called the Securitate, were in proportion to Romania's population, one of the largest secret police forces in the Eastern bloc. Under Communist rule they employed innumerable agents and had close to a half-million informers. For a country with a population well under twenty-million, the percentage was at a very high ratio, even surpassing that of the East German STASI.

The conflict with the Soviet Union became more acute in 1962, when the Romanian communist leader Gheorghiu-Dej again rejected the Soviet plan for his country and announced the signing of a contract with a British-French consortium for the construction of a large steel mill at Galati.

Romanian-Soviet relations began to deteriorate as Gheorghiu-Dej exploited the Sino-Soviet dispute and supported the Chinese position of the equality among the communist states and rejection of the Soviet party's leading role. In November Romania had declared its readiness to mediate the Sino-Soviet dispute, a suggestion that Moskva treated as a hostile one.

The UNCLE agents had been on a mission to document what exactly Gheorghiu-Dej's plans were, but were caught in the act of photographing key documents, and barely escaped with their lives. They'd taken refuge in a small village, hoping from there to make it out of the country. Though they'd be coming home empty-handed, as they had to abandon everything, at least they'd be alive to tell what they'd learned.

Illya, with his eidetic memory, could recount all the information he'd been able to read through, but that wasn't all of it. At least the mission wouldn't be a total loss...unless they didn't make it back of course.

At the moment, they were actually heading northward to another village fifteen miles away, and after seeing to the safety of the innocents Solo and Kuryakin would head east to the Black Sea. Once arriving there, they'd commandeer a fishing boat to take them to Turkey.

.

Napoleon was limping with a sprained ankle as he held onto his partner's narrow waist, trying to keep Illya walking, as his gait was unsteady. The Russian was suffering from the effects of a fall into a ravine after having been shot in the shoulder. He was lucky nothing had been broken, much less to be alive.

"Look at the sky," Kuryakin muttered, "Heavy snow is coming and we had best find shelter soon."

"Are you sure?"

Illya cocked his head, looking at his partner with dismay."Napoleon I grew up in a country that has more snow than you could ever possibly imagine in a lifetime and I know what snow-filled clouds look like."

One of the village leaders walked to the back of the line, announcing that same fact, confirming Illya's prediction. He tried not to look back from where they'd come, but he couldn't help it, seeing distant columns of dark smoke in the sky. That told him his village was gone...

"We make camp here among heavy pines," Gavril the village leader spoke softly. "Storm it comes soon and we make lean-tos. We are blessed, until now the light snow has been masking our tracks through forest. The next snow will cover everything."

Though the villagers left their homes in haste, some remembered to bring hatchets and saws, those they immediately put to use to cut thick pine branches, and fashioning poles. They shaved bark from smaller trees, making strips of thin wood that served as rope to supplement what they'd brought with them.

The snow began to fall more heavily as the last of the shelters were finished; they were simple, just pine branches and narrow tree trunks that served as supports, built around the trunks of some of the larger trees. The silence of the forest echoed for a time with the crunch of feet on the snow-covered ground. Everyone spoke in whispers, lest their voices carry to unwanted ears.

The cry of a red-footed falcon came from above as it hunted for it's last prey before the snows made it impossible to hunt.

Pine needles provided bedding for the floor and the branches ample protection against the wind and snow; that was as long as the snow continued to blow in its current direction. Still, a few strategically placed branches across the entrance to a lean-to would work well enough and keep them dry.

A single campfire was built within the circle of these shelters and with several pots, the women cooked what victuals they had were metered out for the day, being careful to ration what they had. Turnips, potatoes, and few rabbits the men had managed to catch in snares... that was it, but with herbs added, it actually made a decent tasting stew, though being rationed, there was still barely enough to go around.

The villagers gathered near the fire and one by one the cooking pots were passed among them along with crudely carved wooden spoons. Everyone took a few mouthfuls and passed the food along. Some had thought to bring loaves of bread with them, and that too was handed out.

When one pot got to Illya and Napoleon, it had little to nothing left, and the two of them scraped the bottom with the spoon, desperately seeking some morsel to ease the hunger in their bellies as trekking through the snow, injured and tired, gave them a mighty appetite.

What food had been brought would be only be enough for two more days at most and would last to get them to their destination.

Someone handed Napoleon a bit of bread and he broke it in two, giving the larger half to his partner.

"Nyet," Illya refused, "equal shares."

"Nyet, back at you chum. I know how you get when you don't get to eat and there's not an ounce of fat on your body to sustain you. I need you to stay strong...with no headaches."

"Napoleon, you too need to stay strong," he tried handing back more of the bread. "And I already have a headache."

Solo laughed,"I have a few pounds on you, and I can stand to lose a little weight; you on the other hand can't and you may recall, I wasn't the one who got himself shot."

The Russian knew his friend was right, and finally accepted the extra bit of bread, nodding his thanks. Illya bit into it greedily, though it did little to ease his hunger. He reasoned that he'd felt worse, having nearly been starved to death several times in his life. It would be only a matter of a few days with little food, and if they kept moving, the promise of meals and better shelter in the next village would solve their dilemma.

Krasna, the place they were heading to in the north was their safest bet. Napoleon figured those pursuing them would assume they would head to the western border as they'd let slip in front of the villagers remaining in Sorenesti and not farther in country.

Snow hissed as it drifted into the flames of the fire; it quickly blanketed the area covering their tracks, but still their guards could not be let down.

The UNCLE agents and a few of the men were the only people with guns. They would be the ones to stand guard tonight in the woods surrounding the camp, and would take turns near the fire as long as it could be kept burning. Their meager arms were no match against the Securitate, but it was wolves they'd be guarding against as well.

"I'll go first Illya," Napoleon said, handing his blanket to his friend.

"Keep it, you will need it," he tried pushing it back.

"No, it's cumbersome. I'll be all right if I keep moving. Get some rest, as it'll be your turn soon enough." Solo didn't like the look of his partner, and had a feeling Illya was sick. Though it was hard to tell since they were all shivering, and their noses red from the cold; it wasn't until Kuryakin had developed a slight cough that his suspicions were confirmed.

Napoleon decided to let him sleep and would take Illya's watch for him. It was dawn when the Russian woke, cursing under his breath when he realized the American had not come to get him; that was when he broke out into a bad coughing fit. He felt like he was burning up, and no doubt had a fever, now shivering from that instead of the cold.

Solo crawled into their small shelter. "Hey how you feeling?"

A glazed blue-eyed stare gave him his answer as Napoleon leaned forward, putting a hand to Illya's forehead.

"Crap, you're burning up. I'll see what I can do about some food for you and more blankets.

He wanted to answer, but Illya simply closed his eyes, feeling too miserable to argue.

Daciana, wife to Gavril, returned with the American to help him, carrying with her a bowl of potato soup and an extra blanket..apparently one of the older men had died during the night.

The shelter was filled with the strong scent of pine as she and Solo crawled inside and she immediately tried to feed the soup to the Russian, but Illya refused.

"No, it would be a waste of valuable food, as I am sure I would not be able to keep it down. Just cool water please?"

There was no shortage of that, as the snow was getting deeper, if it continued, they would not be able to keep a fire burning much longer.

Daciana left, returning a few minutes later with both cold and hot water and in the steaming bowl she crushed a handful of dried herbs. She let them steep as a tea and after draining the liquid into another bowl , the woman ordered Illya to drink it.

"No, please just cool water?" He whispered.

"First swallow this as it will help bring down your fever."

Illya complied, after which she checked his wound, cleaned and dressed it. "Close your eyes," she whispered, wrapping him in the extra blanket. She gave him a cup of cool water that he downed in a few gulps.

Daciana turned to Napoleon,"Keep giving him much water, we cannot let him become de...de...dehydrated. Here, since he will not eat this, you should. You need to keep up strength to care for him. This will probably be last meal we can cook."

Solo knew better than to argue with the woman, and gratefully accepted the soup, and after she left, he got his partner to take a few mouthful, though as Illya had predicted, he was unable to keep it down.

"Gee thanks partner, now we have a stinky shelter," Napoleon tried ribbing him.

"Sorry, I warned you I could not keep it down. Now have you gotten a whiff of yourself lately, " Kuryakin jabbed back, mustering a crooked smile.

"Thanks for reminding me. Waverly is going to scream bloody murder at my expense report for this month."

"He should be happy you are alive to submit it to him," Illya joked but began to cough again.

"So true," Napoleon snickered.

Daciana returned again, handing Solo a thick homemade candle and some matches. "This will not provide much warmth but it may be a comfort against the night. I fear it is going to be long one with this snow...very bad storm."

"Thank you for all your help," he smiled at her as she left for the last time, returning to her own shelter.

Napoleon turned his attention back his partner.

"Now close your eyes and get some rest chum." He could see Illya shivering beneath the blankets, and decided to climb beneath them, letting his body heat offer added warmth to his friend. Between that and three blankets, he hoped they'd be all right through the night.

The winds began to pick up during as the storm intensified, whistling among the branches of the trees, and in the darkness, at a distance a lone wolf howled. Napoleon pulled his Special from its holster, opting to lay with it in his hand. There would be little sleep for him as he listened to the outside world as well as feeling his partner shivering beside him.

Illya began to mumble in his sleep; it was names and the word for grandmother in Russian making Solo guess they were his family, though Illya had never shared their identities with him.

Napoleon lit the candle, keeping his vigil over his friend until he quieted down, and that was when he too finally drifted off.

The next morning Napoleon woke, finding Illya in a deep sleep, as he was able to touch him without waking him, and after checking, the fever had broken during the night.

He carefully crawled from beneath the warmth of the blankets, blowing out the candle and made his way to the opening of their shelter. Some snow had blown through, creating a little mound at the base of the branches. Napoleon moved one of them aside, peering out into the camp.

Everything was covered in a blanket of white and from the looks of it, at least two to three feet of it had fallen during the night. Snow was still lightly fluttering down among the trees.

He watched as others stirred from their lean-tos, checking on their neighbors and families; he spotted Daciana, heading his way.

Napoleon moved aside the pine branches, and the woman crawled inside, greeting him with a smile and carrying something under a bit of cloth.

"It is good to see you made it through the night...how is your ankle?

"Better, I'll live, and how are you beautiful lady? He smiled at her, managing to make her blush.

"We managed well enough, and everyone survived the night. And Illya?"

"Fever is gone, but he's still out cold."

"It is no wonder as his body has had so much from which to recover. Your friend, I think, is very strong for such a slight man. He needs good woman to fatten him up, enh?"

"I do not need fattening up," Illya's voice came from beneath the blankets. "Why do women always want to do that to me?"

Daciana laughed heartily. "That is the instinct to mother coming out in each of us! Now here is bowl of cold potato soup for the two of you. After you are done eating, come outside as Gavril wishes to speak with you Napoleon."

"Not me as well?" Illya chimed in.

"You are to stay under blankets. I do not want to you getting sicker. I will be back later to check wound and change dressing. I do not wish to risk infection as I have no herbs left that will help with that."

"Doamnă, dorința ta este comanda mea_madam, your wish is my command," Illya bowed his head in compliance."Thank you for taking such good care of me. I am not accustomed to a beautiful woman doing so."

"Oh you are almost as bad as your friend!" Daciana blushed again and left the men alone.

They shared the bowl of soup, though Napoleon let Illya have more sips, distracting the Russian so he couldn't keep count.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say I'm starting to rub off on you chum...telling her 'I am not accustomed to a beautiful woman doing so,' that sounds like one of my lines."

"To be precise, it was one of your lines, as you once used it on a woman in Paris after you'd fallen down a flight of stairs...what was her name now?"

"Coquette, her name was Coquette," Napoleon grinned at the fond memories that popped into his head.

Illya handed the bowl back to his partner, leaving several mouthfuls, and signalled he was done as he buried himself beneath the blankets again.

Solo shook his head not wanting to argue with his partner and, downed the last of the food before heading out to find Gavril. It was slow going, moving in the knee-deep snow as he made his way to the the man's shelter. His ankle was still a bit swollen, though the cold of the snow felt good.

He called in to Gavrii's shelter, announcing his arrival before crawling inside.

"Ah Napoleon, I have heard you and Illya fared well during the night, that is indeed a blessing."

"Maybe a bit of Solo luck as well, " the American replied. "What did you want to see me about?"

"I have made decision, go to Krasna on our own. It is best you and Illya head East now. The weather is against you and if we continue to get more snow, it will make journey to Black Sea nearly impossible. It will be hard enough even in good weather, and with Illya not being well..."

"We promised to see you safely to Krasna," Napoleon protested.

"That I think would not be wise. The villagers there are family for the most part and the less they see and know the safer they will be."

Daciana stuck her head inside the shelter, "Husband we have a problem."

Both men gave her a hard stare, waiting on her words.

"Young Mitka is gone!"

"Who's he?" Napoleon asked.

"He is one of those who did not want to give you and Illya our help. He only came with us because his parents forced him. I fear he has gone in search of the troops. This is not good, "Gavril rubbed his brow. "We must break camp now and part ways."

"Did Mitka know we were heading to Krasna?"

"No, only a few of us knew that, so that will give us some advantage. Though now the snow will now make it easier for us to be tracked from here."

This was an unexpected turn of events, and Napoleon had to agree with Gavril. He and Illya were now a major liability to these people and couldn't risk bringing them into more danger. Nodding gravely to the village elder, Napoleon headed back to his partner.

Illya agreed with Solo, and tried to get up from under the blankets, but felt as weak as a newborn. "Napoleon, this is not good, perhaps it is best you go documents and leave me here. I can write down what I remember. This mission must be completed, and that means I am expendable."

"Not a chance in hell buddy boy," Solo cut him off, before leaving their lean-two again.

A half hour later Napoleon reappeared. "Your chariot awaits my friend."

The villagers had built a sled, allowing Illya to lay down while his partner pulled it by rope.

At first, the prideful Russian refused, but as he stumbled, falling into the snow, he realized they were right. He was helped onto it and covered with the three blankets, and beside him was laid a small sack of potatoes and turnips, along with a small cooking pot. The were given a box of matches, one of the hatchets and a hand saw to allow them to build their own shelters. It was estimated it would take them at least ten days to travel to the Black Sea, barring any heavy snow storms.

The agents tried refusing the food, but Gavril, Daciana and the other villagers would hear nothing of it.

"We will have enough until we we get to Krasna, but you must eat your supplies sparingly as you do not want to be stealing from anyone along journey, lest that alert people to your presence."

The UNCLE agents didn't argue further, and thanked these kind people for their help and generosity. These villagers gave up their homes to save them, and that wouldn't be forgotten.

The camp was destroyed and the villagers walked again, in single file to hide their numbers, waving their silent farewells.

Napoleon and Illya watched until they were out of sight, and the American adjusted the rope around his chest and shoulders, getting the sled off to it's start.

"Good thing you have a skinny Russian ass," Napoleon grinned as the sled moved easily behind him, though his words fell on deaf ears as Illya was asleep again.

It was a short while later that Napoleon heard a noise from behind them , and he quickly brought the sled to a halt, turning with his gun in his hand.

"Who's there?"

A dark haired young man, perhaps barely in his twenties stepped out from behind the trees..

"It is me Radu, Gavril's nephew. I come to help you."

Illya woke up at that moment, calling out to him." Nu. Trebuie să te întorci. Tu nu poate fi pus în pericol_No. You must go back. You cannot be put in danger."

"Aceasta a fost decizia mea. Nu se poate face acest lucru fără ajutor_this was my decision. You cannot do this without help. After my parents died, my Uncle and my village raised me to do what was right. So I will stay.."

Illya peered out from beneath blankets at his partner, knowing the boy was right. "It is up to you Napoleon, as you are the one doing the heavy work."

"No it is up to me," Radu said, taking the rope from around Napoleon's shoulders, and together they pulled the sled behind them, more easily as two lightened the load.

"Your village raised you well Radu," Napoleon smiled as they hauled the sled through the woods...

The boy stayed with them through the entire trip, and as they neared the destination, the sled was now a burden. Illya was feeling much stronger and was able to walk at first with help from Radu and his partner. A few more days of walking, and though tiring easily, he finally managed without help. Napoleon's ankle was all but healed as well.

They made their final camp near a forest-lined lake on the fringes the Black Sea coast at Neptun, though they dared not go into town.

The boy had been raised well as he wordlessly went about building their shelters, hunting for food and cooking. Between the supplies and the game he caught in snares, they actually ate well.

"Radu, it was very brave of you to leave your people and come help us. You are far from home now and will have a lonely journey back, "Illya said as he sat beside the boy near the fire. He was concerned about him, but didn't want to voice his worry.

"I honor my village by doing this. Someday I hope my country will be free of oppression... maybe you can come back to visit."

"Would that would be true, and that it happens our lifetime,"Napoleon stepped up behind them. "Let's get some shut-eye gentlemen, tomorrow is the last leg of our journey and I'd like to get an early start before sunrise. Fishing boats head out just after sunup so I don't want to risk missing them."

They each crawled into their shelters, not as heavy as were built when first fleeing Sorenesti. As they neared the sea, the temperatures became warmer.

The next morning after a few hours they stared at the waters of the Black Sea, just as the sun rose into a beautiful sky filled with pinks and yellows reflecting on soft clouds. They all smiled, seeing such a glorious sunrise, and hoped it was a good omen.

A fishing village was found along the rocky shore; the agents struck a deal with a fishing boat captain to give them passage to Istanbul.

Farewells were quickly said, and the dark-haired boy stood on the docks as Napoleon and Illya climbed on board. Solo turned around waving to Radu but Illya remained with his back to the shore, looking out onto the water with an uncomfortable expression.

"Hey chum, don't you want to at least wave goodbye to the kid?"

"Napoleon, you know it is not my way to look back. He did well and I thanked him, though I fear for him on his return journey. I do not want him to see that in my eyes."

"Or the fact that you're nervous about getting seasick perhaps," the American snickered.

"Oh, thank you so much for reminding me."

Napoleon stared at the Russian. "Don't go getting all 'I have a bad feeling' on me. He'll be fine and so will we...once we get over Waverly ripping us apart for not coming home with the information."

"That is 'all' the information my friend," Illya reminded him, pointing to his blond head.

"Okay, I stand corrected. Glad for that noggin' of yours partner mine," Napoleon said as he cast off the lines; they'd be helping on the boat as part of their passage.

As the engine started with a roar and a belch of smoke, and the boat motored away from the docks, Napoleon caught his Russian friend turn back and give a quick wave to the boy...

"Hmmm, there's hope for you after all Kuryakin," he whispered to himself.