One night, Katya watches the snow fall as she goes to sleep. And thinks back of a stories she used to tell her brother and sister. Three little children, innocent and unaware, and the world that succumbs to their will. And another, of an older sister that abandons her little brother to play, who wanders off and she is left to save him, where the world does not bend to children's innocent wills, and of the challenges that she takes on. And she thinks of her brother, and her sister. And remembers.

('Sister, do you remember when-')


When Katya was young, (yet growing) when they were children (but not nearly as innocent as before) and when things so much different (they were even more different than from what they were like before) - the cold made its first move.

She saw it when Ivan came to her, shivering and pale, telling her, "It's so cold," over and over again, and he was smaller and younger and more fragile than ever, at that very moment. She saw him shake and tremble and realized- that yes, suddenly it was so much colder in her little brother's house. Patted him on the head, pale soft hair and looked at his expression. And smiled for him, remembering someone telling her that it works as the best of comforts.

"I met," He tells her, trembling voice, "a man. A ghost. W-We, we made a pact. And then- he told me that- we-" He stops, and does not talk anymore. Because there is nothing more to say, except, "He said that he will protect me" and the cold that surrounds them reaches not just their bodies.

The word, the name, that pops out in her mind is Зима; the figure that is constantly somewhere among them, spreading and writing with ice everywhere that he can reach, sometimes they stay forever, sometimes it stays just for a few months, but he comes here every year, and he had been there before she existed, and he is the cold that surrounds their neighborhood.
And Katya understands. Suddenly the cold is even worse because she starts to tremble because she knows what this means for her younger brother. "He will help you, I know he will," She tells him, and doesn't lie, "But h-he, h-has t-to… to stay. Do you understand me?"

One glimpse into his eyes and Katya almost turns away. She does not want to see so much fear in them ever again. And Ivan understands too.

Dressed in a heavy coat, Katya's boots click as she walks; the only sounds she hears besides her steps is the quiet ruffling and walking somewhere far away, and the gunshots that are louder than ever in this silence. She does not look at the blood and the breathless bodies that cover the streets as she walks; she wants to close her eyes and not have to see, but she will not avert her eyes from anything ever again, as she promised herself, and her brother and sister. Yet the smell of blood covers her path, surrounds her, traps her; she walks through the bodies like a fog until the gunshots are closer than ever, and there is only her and Ivan.

Ivan, dear and grown Ivan, no longer so much of a little brother, yet still her brother, for whom she will be as long as she can. And she is there for him even when neither of them know if she has to be there. ('And if, there is always an If, how pointless. All that matters is what happened, and that you came here,' A different Ivan inside her head tells her, and she wonders if the real one is thinking this too. And it really doesn't matter. Because she's just there.)

He does not look at her. His clothes are spotted with a dark red, brighter than ever against his clothes, and those spots probably smell of blood. Except the scarf, which stays on him and had stayed on him for so long, the one that stays clean, and Katya can't bring herself to understand how but does not think about it, because she focuses on Ivan, the gun in his hands and his face. Maybe he's just not seeing her but he still ignores her in some way (Katya does not really wonder why she does not mind; not until so much later.) and then- bang. The sound of a body dropping dead. And then, again, and again, and Katya is wondering how she looks right now, and how she feels about the fact her brother is killing- Ivan, her Ivan, has killed all them just like that.

She walks closer to him and observes- his hair is as clean and as pale as ever, yet there are marks and smudges of blood on his cheeks. She sees this, but focuses on his eyes- and realizes that something changed.

And that something in Ivan, the same Ivan that she and Natalia know and love, snapped.

When he lets the gun drop and turns around, Katya only gives a little jump. Ivan is smiling. And smiling too much, smiling so blissfully and cheerily, like he does not understand what such an expression means. There are some tears in his eyes. And that smile. Too cold and too different, showing the Ivan she had always feared seeing. And Katya never wants to see it again.

Keeping it on, he tells her, as though she accused him of something and he's just brushing it off, "Yes. I know. But sister, you see… it's not my fault. After all, I rather keep the children who can play nice. Isn't that right?"

She keeps looking him in the eye. "I didn't want to get your gift dirty," he adds, "But I couldn't take it off. It…comforts me."


She does not like to remember it. She likes to think, yes, I left, I did, but now I'm happy because I am on my own. And yet, that also means being alone. And that means having to see and feel two things.


Katya puts a hand on Natalia's shoulder. Her younger sister, hair like silk and deep blue eyes, turns her head away. "It's time for us to go," she tells her.

Natalia looks at her with a regretful face and Katya does not tell her, "Do not regret it. You have the right to leave." Either because Natalia knows this too or she does not believe it, neither of them know. Sometimes, Katya thinks with shame that she finds Natalia so hard to understand.

The door closes and Katya does not want to see so much sorrow on Natalia's face.

They face each other outside, in the late afternoon, when the skies are darkening but still pale blue. And Natalia tells her, "I'm going to be alone for a while."

Katya shakes her head, "No, Belarus. You are independent. You don't have to rely on brother- make the best out of it."

Natalia is looking at her silently, and replies, "But I relied and depended on Big Brother for long. And you think I can handle taking care of myself."

Katya smiles weakly, "I know you can. Natashechka," She calls her by that old nickname, "Things are going to get better. Vanya and you and me, and everyone- do not worry."

Natalia turns away, and Katya cannot see her face as she says, "Ivan has so many friends. We don't have anybody to help us. We need to rely on him."

Katya wonders how to tell her everything that she is thinking of; how she decided to do the very opposite, how she worries about what is going to happen her, too, and how she is finding it hard to make friends, and how, yes, your worries are justified, and worse of all, she wonders how to show her younger siblings that she, their support and older figure, is afraid.


A kiss on two cheeks, a hug between them three, a smile and a laugh, and another pair, equally shining, and two pairs of eyes staring down, both glimmering with innocence.

The three of them, surrounded by everything that they had known well since birth, ignore their surrounding and sit together, and in moments like these, they love.


Katya remembers her earliest days, and smiles.

;fin.