Anya dropped to her knees in relief at the first glimpse of light twinkling through the trees in the distance.
Lights meant civilization. Civilization meant a place to lay her head that wasn't made from dead leaves that smelled faintly of animal piss.
Most of all, civilization meant real food, something neither Anya nor her bone-weary companions had seen since they'd left that nameless village. And even that hardly made a blip on the satisfaction scale in taste or quantity.
A clump of felled trees had made the only westward road from the village impassable, turning their planned 25 kilometer trek into four hellish days of wandering in the wilderness.
Pooka disappeared that first day. After hours of searching, the three of them returned to their makeshift camp that night with the pup - and a mysterious rash that had them each scratching hard enough to draw blood.
When they were starving the next morning, Dimitri got the bright idea to eat their way through a thick patch of mushrooms they stumbled upon in a clearing.
"They're not poisonous," Dimitri had said in response to Vladimir and Anya's dubious expressions. "I've seen this kind before. They grow wild in the woods outside St. Petersburg, too."
Anya's hunger proved stronger than her doubts. She gobbled mushrooms by the handful before she could stop herself, not even pausing long enough to brush off the moist soil. They tasted like dirty air, but it was only a matter of minutes before they had demolished an area large enough to feed a small deer.
The violent stomach cramps and nausea that kicked in soon after lasted much longer than the mushrooms did.
"Dimitri," Anya had gasped, clutching her stomach as she and Vladimir writhed on the forest floor in agony, "if we live through this, remind me to kill you." But Dimitri was too busy vomiting into the nearby bushes to toss back a snide response.
It took them another day and a half to recover enough for walking again, this time on legs that were decidedly less steady. When the queasiness subsided, Anya couldn't remember her stomach ever feeling emptier; the hunger pangs felt more like knife stabs in the gut. Dimitri's cheekbones already seemed more prominent, and even Vladimir was looking slimmer around the jowls and belly.
She hadn't been a picture of feminine vitality before their ordeal, so Anya was grateful there weren't any mirrors around to show her just how wretched she looked.
Not that she had anyone to impress.
No one spoke as they made their way at a snail's pace through the thick underbrush, each trying to conserve what little energy remained and praying they were at least stumbling in the right direction.
On the fourth day, a miracle: they discovered they had been ambling through the woods more or less parallel to the main dirt path.
"Please, God...tell me this is Ludza." Anya lifted her heavy head to find Dimitri at her side, doubled over with his hands braced on his knees.
After their adventure in the tree, she thought they'd finally chipped away enough at the wall between them to come to a friendly understanding, but Anya hadn't missed the fact that Dimitri had been avoiding eye contact with her ever since.
It stung a little - more than a little, if she was being honest - but she'd shrugged it off. He'd made it clear that his friendship was not a prerequisite for Paris, and Paris was all that mattered, after all.
She mentally kicked herself, dragging her wayward thoughts back where they needed to be. Her quest did not require Dimitri's friendship - or anything else, for that matter. Just her commitment, her grit. Things she could always rely on.
It was focus she lacked at the moment, so Anya took a deeper breath than she needed to, only to catch Dimitri's glance when she moved to stand. He held her gaze, then bent his head in such a way that a crystalline swath of sunlight made his eyes glow like burnished copper.
Nothing could have prepared Anya for the sudden upswing in her heartbeat; she had to brace herself against toppling over with a palm flat on the ground. She recoiled to hide her reaction, but Dimitri's attention was already refocused on Vladimir as he waddled up behind them with their remaining luggage.
"If this is not Ludza," Vladimir grunted, tucking Pooka more securely inside his coat as he maneuvered around them, "it will be today."
Anya would have been willing to share a mudhole with a herd of wild boar if it meant leaving the countless horrors of the forest behind. To that end, she shuffled to her feet and followed her party to the fringe of town.
The treeline met its gradual end in the wild tangle of an unfenced back yard, where the towering pines dwindled in size before disappearing in favor of unkempt grasses and weeds. The moss-covered shack on the property looked like it had been birthed by nature straight from the verdant landscape.
Anya jumped when an owl hooted at their passing from its perch in one of the windows. The innards of the long-abandoned home yawned dark and unsettling beyond the sill. What remained of the windowpanes looked like translucent, broken teeth, sharp and gleaming.
Shivering, Anya hugged her arms and tiptoed along behind Dimitri, fighting every ridiculous impulse to grab his arm and cling to his side. She didn't need him to protect her.
Low clouds dark as gunmetal misted them with a cold drizzle as they emerged onto a wide road that led them westward. Frowning, Anya eyed the neat, bricked-in gardens of the homes arranged in a row on either side of the curving gravel path. The little houses were clearly occupied, but not a single person seemed to be home.
She was beginning to despair that the place was a ghost town when she caught a whiff of something incredible and stopped dead.
"Do you smell that?" she asked, but she already knew the answer. Both Dimitri and Vladmimir had stopped walking, eyes closed, sniffing at the wind like hound dogs.
A grin flashed from within Vladimir's overgrown whiskers. "Someone is cooking dinner."
Anya smiled for the first time in days. At this point, she didn't care if that someone was roasting rats over an open flame. "Let's go see if we can convince them to share."
The scent grew more pronounced as they entered the center of town, where it became clear what had happened to all the residents.
A clutch of townspeople hovered around the open door of a squat building set apart from the other businesses. Tussles for a peek at the action broke out here and there, and whenever muffled noises leaked out into the evening air, members of the group would cheer or boo in response. There seemed to be standing room only for whatever excitement was going on inside. Pushing through the overflow crowd garnered all three of them more than a few curses and shoves, as no one took kindly to being displaced.
They stumbled through the doorway of the pub one after the other at last, the filth clinging to them from head to toe drawing concerned looks from some in the throng milling around indoors.
Anya didn't notice. The undiluted aroma of roasting meat wafting from somewhere in the rear of the room made her weak in the knees. "Please tell me we have enough money for food, Dimitri."
When he didn't respond, she turned to find him engaged in a spirited conversation with the wiry barkeep across the way, a frown etched deep in Dimitri's brow. The man dried a glass with a towel, unmoved by whatever Dimitri was saying. In the corner near the door, Vladmir seemed to be having a less tense exchange with one of the spectators.
Anya gave him a questioning look as threaded his way through the crush of people back to her side.
"It seems this is a card tournament they hold every year. There is a lot of money on the table tonight."
Anya nodded, half listening, more concerned with the fact that they were still standing around with no food in their mouths. Dimitri returned then, hands stuffed into his pockets.
Anya did not like the grim look on his face. "What's wrong? Are they out of food?"
Dimitri shook his head. "Nearly everyone here speaks Russian, but the house won't take rubles."
"What?" Anya's stomach clenched painfully at the news. She scowled. "You can't be serious."
Dimitri shrugged. "Looks like we might be eating more mushrooms tonight." His wry smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
Anya covered her face with her hands, a groan of frustration rumbling in her throat as she spun away from him. She ignored the strange looks from bystanders and let her eyes roam the room, trying to give herself time to think. Thank God the door was left open for the cold breeze to cool the exposed skin of her neck. Any warmer in here and she'd probably pass out.
She could make out a man with arms as thick as young tree trunks hunched over a wooden table in the room's center. He suddenly guffawed and slapped down a palm full of cards, triggering a deafening reaction from everyone around them.
There were too many people blocking Anya's view to identify the card game, but her eyes widened when she glimpsed the messy pile of local currency in the center of the table.
"Vlad," Anya asked, her gaze glued to the coins gleaming dully in the lamplight overhead, "what are they playing?
Vladimir shifted closer to speak into her ear. "The gentleman said they were playing dubinka. The next round will be the the last in the tournament."
Every last hair on Anya's body stood at attention. She knew that game. More than that, she was exceptional at it. "Is there a buy-in?"
Vladimir fell silent and Anya regarded him just in time to catch his quizzical look. "I...do not believe so. Why -"
"I'm going to win us dinner."
Anya turned her glare on Dimitri when he burst out laughing. Her jaw clenched. "I'm sorry, did I say something funny?"
He raised an eyebrow at her, still chuckling. "Definitely. Funniest thing I've heard all day, in fact, because you are not about to gamble money you don't have with a bunch of hoodlums who look like they eat girls like you for breakfast." He nodded in the direction of the table. "Actually, make that breakfast, lunch and dinner - plus a midnight snack for the hell of it." He shook his head and said, "The smallest guy in that group could snap your skinny ass in half with one hand, Anya. No, absolutely not."
It was tempting to allow herself to be warmed by what almost passed for real concern, but nothing irritated Anya more quickly than being told "no".
Instead, she flashed Dimitri her sweetest smile. "That's adorable. You actually think you can stop me from doing it."
Another cheer from the crowd made her want to cover her ears. Dimitri stepped in front of her, once again the lanky mountain that would not be moved. Anya decided she didn't have the energy to be baited into another argument.
She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Move, Dimitri."
Dimitri crossed his arms over his chest, trying to stand his ground against Anya and the people jostling them on every side. "You're not doing this."
"You have any other ideas?" Anya demanded, throwing her hands up.
He frowned down at her. "Not at the moment, but I think on my feet."
Right now, Dimitri was literally standing between Anya and her next meal, and it was starting to make her a bit homicidal. She ground out, "You know why you can't think right now? Because you need to eat. I can do that, okay? I can get us food."
"Are you really willing to get us all killed just to prove a point? What happens to us when you lose? "
Anya couldn't think about that. "I won't."
Dimitri set his jaw, but Anya could see his conviction starting to waver. She was counting on the same hunger that drove her to take action to make him weak enough to push aside if she had to.
"I'm putting my foot down, Anya."
Anya mirrored his stance. "Well, either it's going get stepped on or you're going to get knocked over the head with a bottle. Doesn't matter to me. Either way, it means more food for me and Vlad. So, are you gonna move, or what?"
Dimitri stared for a moment longer, then heaved a sigh and stepped aside to let Anya brush by him.
The starvation that set Anya's throat and stomach on fire fortified her against the trembling that took hold when she reached the table. Every mouth went silent at once, like a great bellows had sucked the sound right out of the room. Everyone - from the boy sweeping out the kitchen near the back to the half-dressed barmaids sloshing drinks into one hand after another - focused on Anya.
Anya wasn't concerned about them. As she assessed the seated players, she worried that Dimitri had a point.
A man with a wide scar that slashed across his face licked his lips, staring at her like she was a plate full of fat potato pirozkhi. She swallowed hard and tried not to blink. "You speak Russian?"
Scar Face nodded, never breaking eye contact.
Anya squared her shoulders. "I want in."
He snorted, then wiped his nose on the back of his hand, leaving a thin, shiny trail of mucus behind. Anya's stomach turned.
"The women no play." In one glance, Scar Face's hooded eyes took her in from head to toe. "No little girls, either," he added with a sneer.
Anya didn't move. As long as she clenched her hands into fists, she could control their shaking. No matter what, she could not show weakness - to this brute, or to Dimitri.
"Why not? You afraid to get beaten by one?"
Chuckles and surprised gasps rippled through the masses like a gust of wind through a wheat field.
Scar Face smiled, and Anya got distracted by all the broken teeth. "Watch and see how quickly you beaten. Then you lose, too. And then you go fetch my beer." More laughs.
Straining to keep her expression neutral in the face of the chauvinistic remark, Anya hung back and watched Scar Face win the current round with little effort. She spied Dimitri and Vladimir on the front lines of the excited assembly, standing behind a defeated opponent-turned-observer still seated at the opposite end of the table. Anya gulped and turned to Scar Face again.
"You've had your fun. Now deal."
Smirking and shaking his head, he raised an eyebrow at the man lounging in the chair to Anya's right, who jumped up and vacated the seat like it caught fire. Anya slid into his spot and prayed she wasn't being as stupid as Dimitri thought she was.
Scar Face shuffled and dealt the cards with deft hands, and thirty minutes later, the other five active players in the round had bowed out.
It was down to Anya and Scar Face. She fought to keep a good grip on the playing cards that slid around against her sweat-slickened palms. If the cards her opponent put down next were worth more than 21 points or the value she clutched in her own hands, Anya would win it all.
If they weren't, she'd have to pay up - likely with broken legs. Or worse.
It became harder to breathe with every inhale. The sweltering air staled by the exhaust of so many strangers didn't help. Anya licked the sweat gathering on her upper lip and watched the opposition.
Scar Face puckered his lips at her and tossed out his cards. 24 points. Everyone around them froze, all eyes shifting as one to watch Anya's next move.
Anya released the breath she'd been holding, her body tingling all over, the grin that spread across her face making her cheeks ache. She displayed her hand on the table, one deliberate card at a time.
All 19 points.
Scar Face's ruined lip drooped in disbelief as the crowd erupted in cheers. Anya watched a laughing Vladimir slap Dimitri on the back. She stuck her tongue out at Dimitri and he grinned back at her, shaking his head.
"Cheer up," Anya told Scar Face then, reaching out with both hands to scoop the cash pile toward her end of the table. "At least we weren't playing for clothes."
He got up and stalked away, quickly replaced by the ecstatic people clamoring to pat Anya on the back and shoulders to offer their congratulations. There was so much money in front of her, it would take a good half hour to count it all. It was enough to keep them fed for weeks.
Anya couldn't help herself. She rode the wave of victory right onto the tabletop, standing up to be seen by the smiling crowd, and yelled at the top of her lungs:
"Next round of drinks are on me!"
Her voice was instantly drowned out by the resulting roar of appreciation.