Nicholaí Kuryakin had deemed it safe to enter the forest now, though he remembered the thousands rumored to have been buried there, victims of the NKVD who were executed as real or alleged enemies of the Soviet State. From the early 1920s and through the Stalinist purges, the government hauled the bodies of tortured and murdered political prisoners to the pine forests outside the village of Bykivnia and buried them in hundreds of unmarked graves.
This he had never told his children, and when the secret police were in the area, he made sure no hunting was done, and Nicholaí kept his family close to the dacha. Wandering eyes could mean death.
It was bad enough that his own father had been caught up in the purges; the name Kuryakin was one of nobility and Count Alexander Kuryakin had paid for his heritage with his life, dying in the Solovki gulag.
.
Nicholaí now crept through the forest of Bykivnia a few miles from the village of the same name, with his second eldest son Illya. The boy had been taught to fire a rifle and was now ready for his first hunting trip at the age of seven.
He'd taken him just within the edge of the great woods, hoping that they might encounter some small prey- a rabbit or a fox perhaps. They stalked the forest quietly, and Nicholaí was pleased that the boy was so light-footed, almost cat-like just like his older brother Dimitry.
The father's head cocked, hearing a rustling not far from them and pointed two fingers to his eyes, then turned his hand outward, pointing to where the sound had come from, telling his son to be silent and to look in that direction.
They sat still like living statues staring into the the woods; Illya holding his breath until he saw it... a hind, a female red deer and a decent sized one at that. His heart leapt that he would get his chance to take down a larger animal and help provide food for their family. Times were becoming hard, and he could see that care on his father's face, there was an uneasiness in his eyes, but what it was truly about, Illya did not know. He felt that there seemed to be a sense of urgency on the part of his papa to have him be proficient with a rifle.
He had heard his parents whispering in bed at night, there was talk of a coming war and Illya wondered if he would be expected to fight. Perhaps that was what had his father push him to become good with a gun.
Illya worried that he was too small to fight if asked, he worried about his baby brothers Misha and Sasha, his sister Katiya and Dimitry who would surely be sent off if there was a war. He fretted over his mother, still weak after giving birth to the twins, and he thought of his babushka.
Grandmother was old and frail in some ways, what would happen to her if there was a war? And papa, what would happen to him? He would be sent off with Dimitry. Illya wondered if he would have to go with them and be a young soldier. Another concern was added to his list; that he would only hold them back.
.
The hind stepped closer to them, calling Illya from his thoughts and Nicholaí indicated to his son to raise the heavy rifle slowly, helping to support the weight of it in the boys arms.
Illya took careful aim, putting pressure on the trigger and squeezing it slowly. He let go a single shot hitting the deer directly in the head, killing it instantly.
"YA sdelal eto papa, ya sdelal eto_I did it papa, I did it!" He proclaimed proudly.
"Da, vy sdelali Ilyushenka, khoroshaya rabota. Kotoryĭ byl i otlichnym vystrelom_Yes you did Illyushenka, good job. that was and excellent shot."
They walked over to the carcass and Nicholaí knelt along side it, blessing himself. "Come my son, you must give thanks to God for sending this creature to us, that we might eat."
Illya knelt beside his father, making the sign of the cross in the Orthodox manner as he'd been taught and gave thanks as well.
"Now Illyushenka you must offer your thanks to our sister for giving up her life so that we might live."
He looked at his father strangely for a minute and finally reached out and placed his hand on the animal's neck. " Thank you my sister for helping us to live another day, I am sorry I had to shoot you."
"Good, Illya. Always remember that a life is sacred, and not to be taken lightly, such as in the case for sport. Innocent animals have just as much right to be here as people, and we are lucky their sacrifices keep us alive. Respect an innocent life my son, never forget that."
Suddenly there was another rustle and a wolf dove out from among the trees, heading toward the boy. Nicholaí fired as the creature was in mid-air and it's body landed at his son's feet. Illya was obviously frightened and his papa scooped him up into his arms as the boy began to cry.
"Ah my son, you are not a man yet even though you have killed your first deer. It is alright to cry, shhhhush." He held Illya's head close to his chest.
"See my son how life tries to come full circle, you kill the deer for food and the wolf tried to kill you for food. That is the way of things, never forget to respect that."
"Da, papa," Illya sniffled.
Nicolaí hoisted the carcass of the deer onto his shoulders, and wrapped a rope around his waist, tying it to the wolf to drag it after him. Both would serve to feed the family, and the wolf pelt would be made into a fur blanket for his twin boys to help keep them warm in the nearing winter.
"Life would go on," Nicholaí thought, until the dark times came, then God help them all from the Nazi threat. He looked down at the innocent blue eyes of his little Illya and prayed for the boy to survive what loomed on the horizon, as would the rest of his family.
"Papa when can we go hunting again?" Illya asked innocently.
"Soon," Nicholaí answered as he looked upwards to the sky, seeing increased numbers of Voenno-Vozdushnye Sily, planes of the military air forces of the Soviet Union flying past. There were too many signs telling him that Stalin was preparing for war, in spite of the treaty that had been signed with the Germans.
The next hunting trip would have to be sooner than expected, better to salt and smoke as much meat as they could, not only in preparation for winter, but for what might come. The farms had already been cleared of their produce, leaving little for the locals.
"Yes Illuyshenka, I think we will hunt again tomorrow and perhaps for the next few days."
Illya's eye widened, surprised at the sudden change in mind. "Is there something that has you worried papa?"
"No, Illya not at the moment," he lied to his son.
The boy said nothing, but a little voice in the back of his head whispered to him otherwise. Illya Nickovich Kuryakin would watch and listen and he would remember everything his father taught him. He would honor his father by being ready for what ever life would bring to him.