Their journey was a far from easy one. At first they had battled other refugees for space on the crowded roads leading away from the city. And, though she was feeling miserable and frightened at being separated from Mikhail, she observed the other groups on the road.

With the exception of Mikhail and a few others of noble birth, the members of the merchant class such as her family were treated with a bit of a disdain by those with titles. Somehow money was better if it had been passed down rather than earned. All the populous of Moscow, from the lowliest street urchin to the richest families with the oldest of titles were fleeing the city now, and she couldn't help but shake her head as she noticed the lords and ladies in their fine carriages.

Unfortunately, those grand carriages were never meant for long, hard journeys and more than once she saw masters standing side by side with their servants, trying to push these grand, ostentatious conveyances out of the muddy snow or try to figure out what to do when a carriage wheel broke. As she watched these people struggle, she wondered what was to become of them.

While her family might not have the right social lineage, they had been smart in their escape and had dressed and traveled in a manner that didn't draw much attention. They were even headed in a direction different from the majority of Moscow's refugees, heading to her father's hunting lodge where they hoped to avoid any encounters with French forces. She trusted her father when he said that they would be safe there, hidden away from the rest of the world until a time when it would be safe to return home.

As the crowds of weary travelers began to thin and they found themselves on the road alone she let her mind wander to thoughts of Mikhail, praying that God would keep him safe and send him to her when the conflict was done. She daydreamed about the life that they would have together, and while most young women would have let their thoughts wander to the grand home they would live in and the balls they would attend, she imagined the children that they would have. She daydreamed about growing old with him and watching their grandchildren play.

The sounds of her father and brother talking penetrated her thoughts and she let her daydreams fade as she listened to what they were saying.

"Of course he will come for her, papa. Did you not see their goodbye? Mikhail loves Katarina."

It was then that she realized they had been talking about her the whole time. Since she had been lying there next to Raya with her eyes closed they figured that she had been sleeping, and she wasn't about to change that assumption, too interested in what they had to say to let them know otherwise.

Her father coughed a bit before answering, "Of course he loves her, but that is not the issue here. This war has come to a point that many of us never thought to see. We have had to flee Moscow for the love of God! There is no guarantee that he will survive this conflict." He sighed and then added with a soft whisper, "We may not even survive."

"What do you mean, papa?" Her brother sounded worried.

"There is no telling how long this war will go on. We both know that the signs show that this will be an especially cold, harsh winter. While we have brought as many supplies as we can and we can hunt for game, what if that is not enough in the end? What then? True, it might be easier to stay within the confines of some small town than the cabin, but what of your sister? We cannot risk exposing her to those French brutes! You know as well as I do what they are capable of. We just have to pray that the cabin will be out of the way enough that we will not be found."

"Do not worry, we will be fine," her brother responded, but even she could hear the doubt in his voice.

As she continued to pretend to sleep, she mulled on her brother and father's words. What would become of them if this war went on for some time? Would they be able to survive at her father's hunting lodge for an extended period? Was she holding her family back with her presence? Life would be easier for them if they were in some small town, but it would leave them all more exposed and vulnerable. And, what about what they had said about her Misha? What if something did happen to him during the course of the war?

No. No, she couldn't think that way. He would be fine. He had to be. At that moment she prayed for him to be safe, no matter what the cost. That was all she wanted.

Curling up further into Mikhail's large coat, she clutched the satin bag he'd given her in her tiny hands. One day, this war would be over and they would be free to marry. She would wear his mother's pearls and they would exchange his parents' rings. And, with that image of their perfect wedding day, she drifted off to sleep.

It was sometime later that she finally woke up. It was night time and the carriage had stopped moving. Feeling disoriented she raised her head and peeked above the edge of the wagon. A short distance away her father and brother were sitting, talking quietly while Raya cooked up something over the open flames of a campfire.

Sitting up she stretched and yawned, stifling a moan as her body ached from being curled up on such a cold, hard surface for so long. Slipping off the wagon she shook out the long skirts of her dress and adjusted Mikhail's cloak. She tried smoothing out some of the wrinkles, but it was a futile act.

Making her way to the campfire, she smiled at her family. She knew from their looks that they were worried about her. To them she was a delicate creature that needed to be coddled and protected. They had no idea what she was truly capable of.

"Are you all right, Katarina?" Her brother asked. "I know that the journey has been difficult, but…"

Reaching out she placed a soothing hand on his arm. "I am fine. Do not worry yourselves over me."

She would prove that she could handle anything that came their way.