Chapter Eight

"Vodka!"

The sound of running feet could be heard from different corners of the house. Within minutes three Baltic nations crashed into the dimly lit study. Night was fast approaching -making it hard to see the subordinate nations' faces- but he imagined that they were contorted with justified anxiety.

Latvia was the first to speak. "Maybe you should rest for the day. I mean, drinking will only make your mood wor-"

Lithuania covered Ravis's mouth with his hand before he could make the situation any more dangerous. "What he means, sir, is that it is getting rather late."

"Deal with the boy, Toris." Ivan took the largest bottle out of Estonia's hand. "And bring me another lamp. I will be working late."

xx

Katyusha had disappeared again, but this time she left before Ivan got the chance to wake up. He was worried. The General despised deserters and lashed out at the first person he found. This was always Ivan.

He paced the floor unable to think of anything else he could do. It was not fair. Why did he have to suffer for the decisions that she made? What she did was out of his control. It was not like he had the power to stop her. Katyusha was still stronger than him.

The sound of the door creaking as it opened made Ivan jump. He could not decide whether he should start apologizing or greet him as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Unable to make up his mind, he blurted out, "Sorry morning."

At first Winter stared at the frightened boy, but after scanning the otherwise empty shack he seemed to understand. "The girl has taken off again, hasn't she?"

Ivan prepared himself for the worst. Instinctively, he gritted his teeth and waited for the man's fists. However, what General Winter did next was a complete surprise that Ivan would never have dreamed of.

"Have a drink with me, Ivan. We will deal with Katyusha when she gets back..." At first Ivan thought that he had heard wrong. "There are still two bottles left? Why haven't you been building up your tolerance?"

It was true that the remaining two bottles had been left untouched. Not that Ivan did not want to drink the vodka; his sister had been watching him like a hawk since they had returned home. She would stay up late and wake up early to make sure that he did not go near the tempting bottles.

"I am sorry, sir."

The man handed him one bottle and kept one for himself. "Have a seat. If you puke again, I'm going to use your body to mop it up."

"Yes, sir."

The two of them sat mostly in silence; each of drinking at their own pace. Occasionally, the General would mutter something under his breath. Sometimes Ivan would watch the older man guzzle down the alcohol in consecutive impressive gulps. He was still only able to take small mouthfuls. Of course the General finished his bottle first, and as he swallowed the last few drops a new idea formed in his head.

"It's about time I taught you to shoot a gun..."

"What, sir?"

"You'll need to defend yourself in battle." The General shrugged off his rifle strap. "Right now you lack physical strength, so a rifle would be ideal."

Ivan shivered at the sight of the killing machine. He hesitated to reach for the dormant metal beast for fear that of being bitten. When he accepted it, there was no bite, no surge of power, the object simply lay dead in his hands. For a moment he marveled at the weight of the rifle. Was it really so heavy? Or was he feeling the weight of the many lives that were taken by its fatal sting?

"We'll start practicing with still targets."

Outside, the day had been dead silent without a breath of wind. It almost felt like a sin to disturb the peace, like screaming in a church or laughing in a graveyard. But they were here to interrupt the sacred quiet with the firing of bullets.

Winter helped him shoulder the gun and instructed him on how to aim. "When you pull the trigger, do so with only one intent. If your mind wavers, you will never make your mark."

Ivan's head was buzzing from the alcohol, but he manage to focus on a small tree. His heart was racing as he steadied his hands. Time slowed down as he squeezed the trigger. He fired.

"Well done!" General Winter slapped Ivan on the shoulder. The top quarter of the sparse tree lay on the ground beside its other three fourths. "A straight shot even with vodka running through your vains."

Ivan was dumbfounded. Genereal Winter was actually expressing pride in his actions, praising him. He did not know that it was possible to look at his guardian and smile. Together they finished off the last bottle and tested Ivan's marksmanship. It was a strange form of happiness.

Sadly, it could not last forever. Katyusha returned just before sun down as she always did. A nervous knot formed in Ivan's intestines. What would the General do?

Katyusha approached with her head hanging low in apology. Standing in front of their guardian, she grit her teeth, closed her eyes, and clenched her fists tight. "Good evening, General Winter."

Silence.

There was no wind. There was no words. The was no curses. There was no swinging fists. There was only a twisted smile on Winter's weathered face.

"Ivan, how many bullets do you have left?"

He swallowed hard to clear the lump that was lodged in his throat. "One, sir."

The General placed his large hands on the girl's shoulders. "Katyusha, go stand by the door. After Ivan takes his last shot, I will deal with you."

"Yes, sir."

When Katyusha was out of earshot and walking toward the shack, Winter knelt down beside Ivan. "This time you will be practicing on a moving target."

It felt like his heart would explode. Sure, Katyusha may have made him angry lately and left him to deal with General Winter whenever she went on her day trips, but she had laways been there for him. His finger rested on the trigger. Before he pulled, his sister glanced over her shoulder and made brief eye contact. She already knew what had been asked of him.

He held his breath and fired. It was a terrible shot. The bullet whizzed over his sister's head and pierced the front door of their home.

"Damn you, boy."

Ivan accepted the physical abuse. For some reason it did not hurt so much. Katyusha got hers as well. The moon had fully risen when the two were left alone laying in the snow.

"Thank you."

"What?"

"Thank you for not shooting me."

"I shot at you."

"But you missed."

"I was drunk, Katyusha. I probably couldn't hit the side of a barn."

"That's not true." His sister crawled over to where he lay. "I saw a few of your last shots. You could have killed me. Why did you do it? You knew that he would get angry. Why did you miss so blatantly?"

"Because I'm not him, Katyusha." He turned his head so he was looking right at her. "I told you that no matter how much I drink, I won't be him."

They beside each other in the cold silence for a little while longer. Ivan admired her calm blue eyes. Somewhere in the world, the skies were blue. One day, he would like to see them.

Katyusha unzipped her jacket and pulled out a pink scarf. "I know it is a little late to celebrate your birthday, but I will give you this."

Ivan sat up and looked down on the scarf. There was no other way to describe it other than pink. "Isn't this a little..."

"This is a magic scarf." Katyusha wrapped it around his neck. "If you wear this, some one will definitely come and help you."

He sighed and pulled the scarf closer. It was warm... and pink.

xx

Again, Katyusha left before morning the next day, but she did not return that day... or the next day... or the day after that. Eventually, Ivan stopped counting the days. He was abandoned.