After a few months, Ion has still not entirely gotten used to living in the camp. This was normal, of course, seeing he was just a little boy. Today, Winter said he was going to show Ion something special, or rather, important. Katerina fixed his clothes and hair just for the occasion. "Do you know where we're going, Kat-Kat?" he inquired. Ever since learning her name, he's decided to call her "Kat-Kat" instead. Much easier and Katerina loved the nickname. "Mmm-hmm! But it's a secret! You'll find out when you get there." "But I want to know now~!" he complained. "Hush now. You like surprises, don't you?" she replied. He shook his head in agreement. "Then you can wait. I'm sure you'll like it." He giggled and stood still as Katerina buttons up his coat. "Now, don't forget to say 'please' and 'thank-you' and—" Ion interrupted with a long sigh and said "I knooooow~ I won't forget." Katerina grinned at his as she put his hat on. "Good." He was about to reach over and snatch his knife belt but Katerina held it away from him. "Trust me, Ion. You won't need this." He cocked his head to side. "What kind of place are we going where we don't bring a knife?" "It's a surprise, silly."
Winter held Ion's tiny hand lightly between three fingers. Ion's other hand was near his mouth, he was sucking his thumb. "We've been walking for a long time," he thought. "I hope this surprise is amazing. My legs and knees are getting sore." He looked up at Winter. He had a bored, apathetic look on his face. Like always, except when he was angry. Then his eyebrows pointed downward toward his nose. And that space between his eyebrows would crinkle, too. "Are we almost there, oroshka?" the country asked. "Almost." Winter replied gruffly. General Winter stopped and let go of Ion's hand. He pulled out a cigar and matches. He struck the match and lit the cigar and put it in his mouth. He puffed out a big cloud of smoke and cleared his throat. For next twenty minutes, he puffed on his cigar, and occasionally taking a deep breath. Ion sat down. He always took a long time to finish his cigars. He was two-thirds done, but he dropped the cigar and crushed it into the snow with his huge boot. "Alright then, close your eyes and walk forward with me." he said. Ion got up, brushed the snow off his backside, raised his hand and Winter grasped it. He lifted his right hand and shielded his eyes.
Step, step, step. A near trip here and there. "Are we almost there now?" he asked, tired and growing impatient. "Shut your mouth and you can look." he scoffed back. Ion stopped talking and slowly removed his hand from his face. Before him stood a spacious village of small homes. Some people were walking between them, holding food and other things. He noticed there were women there. Ion's rarely seen a woman other than his big sister. All of the soldiers at camp were men. There were some lunch ladies that worked at the mess hall, though. He opened his eyes wider and pure awe. His little mouth formed a small "o" as well. A chilling but
gentle wind blew in, gently rustling his hair. It also swayed the little braided string from his hat. Since they were upon a hill, they walked carefully down before the village. Some people have already congregated over to the hill upon seeing the visitors. "Oh, goodness! Is that him?" "It must be! He's definitely got the look!" "Look at him and tell me he isn't it!" they questioned. "Settle down, settle down. Da, this is your new country. The country named 'Russia'." He glanced down at a stunned Ion. "Russia, these are your people, the Russians." He raised his arm and motioned it to the crowd in front of him. "When you're older… it will be your duty to protect them." Then he turned to the crowd and announced loudly, "People of Russia! This child is indeed your country. He's new to a lot of things so don't suffocate him. Don't frighten him either. This just a visit though." He strolled over to a cabin, leaned against it, and lit a cigar. Immediately, the eldest of the group flocked to Ion. "Oh, how precious!" "Goodness, look at his little face! I could just pinch his cheeks!" All of the sudden crowding started to make Ion nervous and he started to redden and whimper. "Give the boy some room to breathe! You heard Winter!" a man called out. The crowd gave him space and he calmed down.
One pleasant old lady named Viktoriya offered to bring Ion around the village and show him their culture. "I've just finished making pirozhki, would like to try some?" she offered. "Pirozhki~? I do want some! … please." He said, remembering his manners. "Careful, its piping hot." she cautioned as she handed him the bread pocket. He held it with caution and viewed it over. "Looks like normal bread to me…" he said aloud. "Take a bite, malysh." she said with a chuckle. He took a bite and his eyes lit up immediately. "Mmm! I love it~! Meat inside of bread is genius!" Viktoriya giggled and said "There's some rice in there too." Ion finished the snack and quickly asked for more. "Now, now, I'm assuming you haven't had supper yet. Don't want to spoil it, don't you?" "Oh… okay, madam."
She held his hand and guided him over to a neighbor of hers. A younger man in his forties was forging metalwork. "Don't get too close, malysh. That metal is very hot." "But what is he making?" the little boy replied. "Knives," said the man. "We need a few more for hunting." "Ah. I have a knife for hunting back at camp but big sister said I wouldn't need it." Ion remembered. "Big sister? Your sister is Ukraine, right?" asked the man. "Da~" said Ion. "Her name is Katerina but I call her Kat-Kat." Viktoriya bent down and rubbed his cheek. "Oh my, you are too delightful!" she said sweetly. "I could eat you up!" Ion giggled and looked back up at her. "In speaking of eating, will we get to eat some more pirozhki~?" The woman sighed and shook her head. "Da, you will get more pirohzki, little one. But let's see more of the village, okay?" "Alright then."
Then, once nearing a certain house, a sound he's never heard before came to him. It sounded like singing, but without words. "What is that noise? It's beautiful~" he wondered out loud. "That? That, my child, is music. Nikolay but be playing it again." "It?" Ion asked. "What is 'it'?" The lady brought a finger to her lips. "You'll see." she whispered. They walked soundlessly around the perimeter of the building until they reached the entrance. There, upon the doorstep, sat a boy of possibly 16, strumming on a wooden stick-like object Ion's never seen the likes of before. He continued making music until the song was finished. Then, he opened his eyes to his great-aunt and little boy clapping at his performance. "That was beautiful!" the boy cried. "Again! Again!" he cheered. "Who's this little youth?" Nikolay asked, chuckling. "This, great-nephew, is Ion Braginski. He's our country, named 'Russia'." Nikolay slid out of his comfortable-looking position and crouched to look at Ion. "This is our country? Preeeetty small." Ion looked down shyly. It was true, he was a small thing. "But… I like you, kid." The teen said with a toothy grin. Ion immediately brightened up, then stared at the strange music-making object Nikolay held. "That thing—what is it?" Nikolay held up the instrument. "This? This is my balalaika." Ion was totally lost. "Balalalala what~?" he said, raising an eyebrow. Nikolay laughed loudly but quickly quieted down. "No, silly, ba-la-lai-ka." he said, stressing the syllables."Ba-la-lai-ka." The little boy repeated. "Can you play some more?" The teenager looked at the instrument, then back at Ion. "I could… or better yet, maybe you could." he said while grinning mischievously. "Wha—me? I couldn't play a big balalaika like that!" "Maybe not a big one like this… but let me see if I can't find a smaller one for you." responded Nikolay. He went into his home after ruffling Ion's hair a bit. Ion flailed his arms with pure elation, that he'll soon make music like Nikolay.
A minute passed when Nikolay came out of the dwelling holding a much smaller balalaika. "This is for you, Ion." he said, handing him the guitar-like instrument. "Yay! Yay!" the boy cheered, holding it. His very own balalaika! He sat down on the steps to Nikolay's dwelling and the teen kneeled behind him. Viktoriya looked on happily. "Alright, I'll help you with a simple song." The adolescent took Ion's hand and placed it on a string and plucked it. A note rung for a few seconds and faded away. Slowly, Nikolay played several notes with Ion's hand in a certain order. Then, he repeated it, with each note; he slowly said each syllable of "balalaika". He continued slightly faster, until Ion caught the hang of it. Nikolay let go and the young country slowly did it on his own. "Ba… la… lai~ ka. Ba… la… lai~ ka." He started to speed it up and got to a slightly less relaxed pace. "I can now play the ba-la-lai~ka!" he sang, strumming the last note. Viktoriya and Nikolay applauded him and Ion jumped up from his position, bowing. "Thank you! Thank you!" His deep bows made his hat fall off. Viktoriya picked it up, brushed the snow off it and plopped it back on his head. He clung to her leg and said "I love you, babushka!" he said. The old woman chuckled and said "Ion, I'm not your grandmother." He looked up with a determined and loving twinkle in his eye and said "But can I call you that?" She looked at him for a bit and said "Da, you can call me your babushka." He gasped and clung to her even tighter. Nikolay just chuckled, shook his head with a smile, and continued strumming his balalaika. Then, a chilling wind blew through and General Winter walked into sight. "Russia," he called. "Time to go. Say farewell and let's go." The country looked at Nikolay and Viktoriya. "Goodbye, babushka! I love you!" he yelled, running after General Winter.
He showed his new balalaika to Katerina. He played the "Ba-la-lai~ka" song he learned on it. Kat-Kat loved it.