Illya Kuryakin grew to be that smart boy his babushka had predicted he would be.
He had been quick to talk and was constantly asking questions while following around his mother, father and brother Dimitry, but mostly his grandmother.
She would tell him stories and legends, while his brother would tell him of the forest.
"See Illyusha, moss grows on the northern side of a tree," Dimitry pointed out to his little brother. They weren't far away from the dacha as their mother forbade them to wander. Illya was too young, as was Dima to go off into the forest on their own. Though the eldest Kuryakin boy was a bit headstrong and thought he could manage it.
There came one day when both boys decided to disobey their mother, though they planned to only do it a little bit.
As Dimitry walked along with his brother following him, he talked of the forest and all the wood lore he knew about tracking and finding your way around.
Dimitry was in fact quite learned for a twelve year old, and his six year old brother hung on every word he said.
Illya was crazy about his big brother, and Dimitry knew it, and he loved his little brother as well. They had a sister now, little Katiya Nikolaevna, and as much as Illya adored Dima, he adored their sister even more.
The two of them seemed to have a special bond, and she made him laugh. The serious little blond child that Illya was changed when he would play with his little auburn- haired Katiya.
She loved Illya too and in her simple baby talk she would communicate with him and he seemed to understand her.
Marina said the boy had a gift for languages, even baby talk, she laughed. He was nearly fluent in French, German, Ukrainian and Russian though she never ceased tutoring him. He seemed to remember everything, he'd read it, and that never ceased to amaze her. Truly God had gifted the boy with some very special abilities, and Marina would see they were well honed.
She hoped some day when the world was a better place, her grandson would grow up to be something more than a farmer, perhaps a teacher or a leader of men.
Dimitry would be tied to the forest, that's where his heart lay, and always would. There was nothing wrong with that.
Illya continued to wander along with his brother; Dima now pointing out the flowers telling his brother their names and if they were good for anything like settling an upset stomach, or treating a wound.
That was knowledge their mother had taught him as she was wise in the ways of healing herbs and flowers gleaned from the fields and forest.
"Let us rest for a bit little brother, then it is time we return home. Mama will be angry with us if she finds out where we have been."
Dimitry leaned back against a tree, and Illya sat beside him. He was not as talkative as his brother, preferring to listen and take everything in, absorbing and remembering it all.
He wasn't tired and as Dima closed his eyes and fell asleep; Illya decided to pick some flowers for their mother, just in case they were caught disobeying her. The flowers would make her smile and perhaps would keep her from being too angry at them.
He spotted some bluish ones growing along the edge of the woods. Barvinok, his mother once called them, a sort of periwinkle. She said it was a symbol of eternity and of being, as well as a harbinger of Spring.
He remembered reading from a book..'Halya carried water from the well to the house. Ivanko, like a blooming periwinkle, followed her…Barvinok, periwinkle, help bring Ivanko back — I'll take a good care of him, Like I've been taking care of you…"
Illya continued to wander, plucking flower after flower, filling his arms with them, and thinking his mother would indeed smile at the sight of them.
Dimitry woke from his nap, realizing immediately his brother was not beside him.
"Illyusha? Illya?" He called, but there was no answer. "ILLYA!" This time he shouted but still nothing.
Panic rose in his throat.
"Calm yourself durak. Look for his tracks," Dima told himself.
He spotted the small footprints, and following them he found a trail of barvinok. His brother must be picking flowers for their mother; that was the way Illya thought as he was very clever.
Dimitry continued to follow the trail, though the footprints were becoming harder to see, and the barvinok were no longer being dropped by his brother.
The sun was setting and there was still no sign of his little Illya. If he lost him, Dima knew he was in for it, though he was sure the boy was smart and could survive a night in the woods. Still their parents would be angry he'd taken Illya into the forest by himself, even if it had only been to the edge of the woods.
The light was fading, and Dimitry knew he had to go home and face his parents. His father would already be there, returned from working; papa had been building new shutters for someone who lived many miles away and he would be tired from the work and traveling on foot.
Nicholaí had to carry all his tools with them in a wooden chest slung from a strap over his shoulder. Dima had once tried to pick it up but it was too heavy for him to lift.
It was not his father's anger he feared though, but his mother's and his babushka's.
Their voices would cut through him like a knife, and he feared it more than the beating he would get from his father' that was once papa returned home after finding Illya.
Dimitry walked slowly up the steps leading to the back door of the dacha, his hat in his hands as he tried to put together the words to tell what he'd done. He was not smart like his little brother, and words failed him at times, unless he was talking about forest lore and animals.
He opened the door slowly, spying his family sitting at the table as they were preparing to eat supper.
Dimitry's eyes went wide when he spotted his brother there, and behind him on the counter was a small bouquet of barvinok.
"And where have you been young man?" His mother demanded." I was beginning to worry about you, thinking you had gone into the forest again...look, are these flowers not beautiful? Your little brother gathered them for me, though I know they grow near the woods."
"We did not go into the woods mama," Illya piped up, telling a boldfaced lie. "These were growing in the field behind our home and Dima showed them to me. Did you have a nice nap in the field brother?"
"Ummm, yes, though it was much longer than I planned little brother."
"Ohhh," Tanya nodded, knowing her boys were lying to her. Yet somehow, the way they were sticking up for each other pulled at her heart. She knew her sons loved each other dearly to risk her wrath and their father's belt.
"Dimitry, go wash your hands as we are ready to eat."
"Yes Mama," he looked at his brother, seeing Illya wink at him.
After a dinner of venison stew with vegetables and brown bread, the family retreated to the sitting room where Nicholaí softly played his concertina for them.
Once evening prayers were said, everyone went to bed and Illya and Dimitry lay in the darkness of their room, finally able to talk to each other.
"Illya, why did you wander off? Did you not know how dangerous that was to do?"
"Sorry Dima, I was busy thinking about picking the barvinok for mama. They made her smile."
"I am sure they did, but if anything happened to you she would have been crying and I would have been in big trouble."
"Sorry, I did not think of that. Will you still take me into the forest and teach me more?"
"Only if you promise not to wander off again Illyusha. I got scared when I couldn't find you; I know you are smart and could have probably survived the night alone out there. Still there are many dangers, and people, bad people, wandering in Bykivnia. They say there are graves there, many accused of crimes and buried by the secret police. Would you want to end up buried here in the forest where no one would ever find you? We would never know what happened to you."
"Dima I saw periwinkles growing near some big mounds, but I stayed away from them. I think they were those graves, and I remembered barvinok growing at a grave were there to conjure up the image of the dead. Do you think God put them there so those people would be remembered?"
"That I do not know little brother, but it was good you stayed away from those mounds if they were indeed graves.."
"Dima, you asked what would happen if the secret police found me and I ended up buried in the forest... would that not be true for you too?"
Dimitry paused, thinking his brother had made a good point.
"Yes, you are right. So I promise you I will not go into the woods by myself, and you promise me too that you will not wander off or go by yourself again either."
"I promise,"Illya yawned. He'd told a white lie to his brother as he'd gone to the mounds, and there he felt compelled to leave most of the flowers he'd gathered.
He said a little prayer, asking God to take their souls of those buried there to heaven and to give comfort to the families they left behind. It seemed the right thing to do.
"Now go to sleep little brother." Dimitry yawned. "I am tired, no more talking."
"Mmm, yes Dima."
Illya fell fast asleep, and he dreamt rather vividly of people standing around him in the forest. He knew none of them with their pale faces; their eyes darkened and lifeless. At first he was frightened, but then he saw a little girl in a red dress. Her golden hair was pleated in braids and she smiled at him, holding out the blue flowers he'd left in the forest.
"Spasibo Illyusha," her voice echoed, as if riding on the wind and it disappeared into the rustling of the leaves on the trees. Her image faded away.
Illya woke with a start. It was morning already, and the sun was shining brightly through his bedroom window.
He rubbed his eyes as he lay there. The boy's thoughts went to his dream and decided he had done the right thing, leaving the flowers there at the grave and praying.
Someone needed to remember the dead, and his dream told him they knew what he'd done for them.