During the sisters' stay Ivan ceased taking Yao out to go ice-skating-or anywhere similar, for that matter. The first few nights he hardly noticed, having been preoccupied with dinners and talking with the sisters. They, once having opened up to Yao, had become increasingly interesting. Natalia proved herself to be highly intelligent. Her flashing eyes cleverly noticed a multitude of details that otherwise would have gone unseen. She could perform her sums offhandedly. Once Yao walked up to her while she folded laundry and launched and unexpected quiz. She answered each question correctly without looking up.

However she scarcely smiled or showed any signs of happiness. Morosely she looked out windows, crumpling her dresses in her slender fists, and puckered her face in misanthropy. At other times she spoke clearly and stoically. Yao found it harder to understand her, for some reason. He felt as though she was convinced the world had committed a great crime against her and she was forced to live in constant mistrust.

Katrina, on the other hand, proved to be preppy and bright. She was thickly muscled, her forearms flexing when she picked up heavy objects. Whenever she turned around too quickly and one of the buttons going down her blouse popped off she sighed and picked it up, sewing it back on and continuing her task. She spoke often to Yao and rarely pronounced her gs. She helped him with his Russian and taught him a handful of Ukrainian phrases.

Soon Yao noticed that Ivan spoke to him less and less. When he did it was a single world or nod of head. Then again, he didn't speak to his sisters often either. At dinner he barely opened his mouth, save for the first night when their arrival was still fresh and bright.

And Yao only felt his emotions stir. They became an agitated ocean, swirling incessantly and lapping up at his eyes. He felt tears spring up on these occasions and, having never been confronted with such a tidal wave before, hid himself away, ashamed of his weeping. The ocean tumbled in his stomach, churning as though attacked by a storm. When Ivan spoke a single word to him it roared and his heart shook. His cheeks reddened and he was unable to control it.

These emotions were no strangers to Ivan, either. In him it was a blizzard, swirling and engulfing a multitude of bivouacking soldiers. The blackness of night was spotted with heavy, cold snowflakes. He didn't notice that Yao blushed when he spoke to him because he was distracted with keeping the red out of his own cheeks, nose, and neck. He could not understand them and loathed the surges. He refused to speak to Yao, out of fear of them.

One night, when Yao and Katrina had fallen asleep and only Natalia remained awake, sipping tea, Ivan approached her. He sat across from her, looking at her. She caught his glance and cast her eyes towards him, lowering her teacup and setting it daintily on her lap. She wore a pure white night gown, falling just short of her ankles, exposing her bare feet.

"Yes?" She asked.

"I need to ask you something, sister," he said, shifting uncomfortably.

"Is it about Yao?"

The tips of Ivan's ears turned pink.

Barely smiling, Natalia nodded as if to say: "yes, I know."

"I need an explanation." Ivan said, gathering his feeble strength.

"I see," she scratched the side of her long nose. "Go on."

"Why is it that I can't speak to him like a normal human being? I can't utter more than a sentence before being attacked by an onslaught of wretched feelings."

"I see."

"What do you see?"

"Tell me, brother, why do you even have him here? Your maid told us that he would be there but she only said that you had somehow got a hold of him. Details were omitted."

Something, perhaps the wind, stirred and caused a rustling sound across from Ivan. He looked upwards and then, shrugging, looked back at Natalia. "He was supposed to be executed for a crime I suppose he did not do. He had yet to be convicted and the people who were trying to prosecute him were some rogues from another part of the world. I don't know what the crime was but from the conditions described to me by a drunken soldier I could tell that it was horrible."

Natalia interrupted; "How do you know it was the truth? The man must have been senselessly drunk."

"At the time I didn't know. He told the story many times. I suppose it suited his fancy. At any rate I agreed to take him home, also drunk, but also trying to do something worthwhile in my miserable life after…" he trailed off. Natalia, understanding the circumstance, nodded again in understanding. "Well what you know. And so I offered to buy him off but some of his friends wanted him alive and gave him away, sending him on a carriage, and that was that. I saved his life, I suppose."

Natalia fingered the gilded rim of her cup. "Do you like him?"

"I've come to like him quite a lot." Ivan said. "He's a pleasure to have along. When we went ice skating, remind me to take him again, he would touch me to hold on. The skin he touched burned. It's an anomaly."

"Are you infatuated with him?" she asked, bluntly.

Ivan's nose turned crimson and the blood jumped to his cheeks. He looked down, curling both upper- and bottom-lip in and biting them. "You mean like a man would his wife?"

"Yes, as you are with Ira."

"I am not infatuated with her. I love her. She is one of my greatest friends. I don't understand this…"

"I don't know anything about love." Natalia said, standing up and placing her cup on the coffee table. "I have not loved anyone in my life. But I suppose you love him more than a friend. Maybe you should marry him." She turned away, her braided hair swinging at her back. She walked stiffly, annoyed that her brother didn't understand the simplest emotion, and stopped at the hallway.

"Pardon me," she said and walked past Yao.

Yao walked into the kitchen, trying to resume his original course of action from earlier. He had felt parched and found the carafe in his room to be empty. Now the empty silver-colored jug hung from his hand. His face was pale and his flowing hair loose around his shoulders. He walked into the kitchen, finding another carafe loaded with ice and pouring a portion into his.

Ivan stood up and, padding softly, followed Yao. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Botches of red still tingled on his face. Yao, sleepy, peered over his shoulder at him.

"Hello," he said quietly.

Ivan nodded, puffing breath from his nose.

Yao, having completed his task, started towards his room. Ivan reached out and took hold of Yao's arm. Yao paused, looking back and feeling the heat of Ivan's large hand on him. "Yes…?"

Ivan knitted his eyebrows together. "You heard that all. Didn't you?"

"Unfortunately that is the case."

"Good. I heard you coming. I wanted you to hear why I brought you hear. The other part I would advise you to forget." His fingers still locked onto Yao's arm.

"Will do, Ivan," Yao said, addressing Ivan by name for the first time in uncomfortably dark tones.

Ivan let go, his hand falling limply at his side.

In his room, after putting away the carafe and forgetting to take a drink, Yao slumped on his bed. He laid his head back on the crumpled and warm pillow, looking towards the ceiling. Moonlight bathed the walls and bedspread, highlighting Yao's pale, exposed legs. He stretched his toes and placed his hands on his stomach, breathing slowly.

Nothing made sense to him anymore. Ivan was mysterious and often forceful and to have that feeling from him directed at Yao was… strange. Yao had never felt very interest in the fair sex. Women were beautiful, of course, but it ended at that. He knew he would have to marry and bear children, but that was a vague, distant dream. But pressing his lips to Ivan's was….

No. Yao rolled over, covering his face with his hair and screwing his eyes shut. He curled his knees up to his chest, holding them tightly.

Spring had already come. The buds were blooming into beautiful psychedelic flowers. The sky gleamed bright blue—as though enameled. Trees rustled in warm winds. The snow capping the mountains now melted away, fading to a dim white in recollection of the winter. The lake once frozen was now clear, moving, blue water. Ivan didn't have time to take Yao out again for another go. By the time he asked Natalia to remind him the ice had already melted.

The morning following Yao's eavesdropping, he woke up to the sound of twittering birds. He stood up, happy to greet another spring day. He dressed in a cotton shirt and similar pants, pulling on sandals rather than boots, and ventured out to the backyard.

Outside, carrying an empty basket, Katrina stood singing to herself.

..Come to the edge, Katyusha

To the very highest edge

Come forth as the song goes on

For the one you loved most of all

Oh you, my maiden's song

Go fly to end of the sun's brilliance

And from Katyusha give him her word

Let him remember a plain girl

Let him hear how she sings!

Let him save his motherland!

Let him save his lovely Katyusha!

So fall forth the apples and the pears…

She hummed the rest to herself. Her fair hair partially hid under a checkered kerchief. She wore a simple dress, swaying as she moved around and sought mushrooms. She squatted down on her heels, pushing away grass and crying out, her song ending abruptly. Yao rushed over to her, for she was on the far end of their property, and asked her what had happened.

Scooting away, she kept her dirt stained hands lifting a patch of grass. Below it, chest heaving and splattered in blood laid a wounded bird. Its black eyes gazed at Yao, its tiny head barely moving. It was a brown and black sparrow, desperately trying to lift its damaged wing. Gently, he picked it up, holding it in its cupped hands. It winced and writhed, trying to scrabble away.

"Give it to brother at once!" Katrina said, dropping her basket and standing to her feet. She placed her hand at her chest. "He'll know what to do, go on know!"

So Yao did, holding the fragile body delicately but running at top speed. Once at home, he found Ivan in his study, reading again from his hefty volume. "Ivan?" Yao called in urgently.

Ivan jerked his head towards him, causing his spectacles to slip off. He stood up, placing the book and glasses away, and rushed to Yao. Yao held out the bird, which breathed rapidly in fear, flapping its good wing.

Laughing, Ivan took the bird in his own hands and walked down the shelves. "You looked so panicked, I though Natalia finally fell down a well or something." He picked up a small box from one of the shelves and opened it, finding a bandage. It came from his war days, battered and stained, but otherwise in perfect condition. He started to fix the bird up. "She worries so much over these poor animals. Whenever she found one limping or hurt in any way she would pick it up and run home crying. We must have tended to a dozen strays then. But then again…" he paused, watching the bird inspect the bandage. It must have realized that Ivan's intentions were good and helpful. "Then again it did help me later on. In the army they were surprised when they found out I could bandage any wound up in a matter of minutes."

Yao smiled. The bird hopped around on the shelves and Ivan gathered it back in his hands, holding it out to Yao. Yao cupped his hands and the bird jumped in. Ivan smiled back. "Give her back to Katrina. She will know how to take care of him."

So Yao did. Katrina made a small nest-like structure out of fabrics and her basket. She laid the bird in, warmth spreading across her face. Ivan watched, placing his hand on his sister's shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Thank you," he muttered.

She, tears springing in her eyes from her brother's sudden gush of emotion, rounded on him. "For what?"

"For making me remember what true compassion is," he said and returned to his study.

Katrina watched after him, her big cow-eyes becoming sad. "Goodness," she said, picking up Yao's hand and pressing it gently. "How can you stand to live with him? He never gives a straight answer! He always has to be elusive. Ha! As if he fools anyone with the act. Oh-h-!" Tears rolled down her cheeks and she pulled Yao into a very tight embrace. Yao stiffened, unable to breath. She pulled away and, muttering something, pressed his hand again and went on with her business, pulling the kerchief from her head and using it to wipe her cheeks.

The bird's nest now sat in the living room. When Natalia wandered there after returning from a walk outside, she found it there. Approaching it with an outstretched hand, Ivan cut her off.

"Watch out, Natya, it might peck your eyes out."

Natalia jumped, looking fearfully at the basket. She had not seen the contents yet. "Ivan," she warned, looking around for where he spoke from. "What's in there?"

Ivan exited the kitchen, holding a piece of black bread topped with salmon. "It's just a bird, sister, I was only kidding."

"Oh." Natalia said, deciding to leave the basket alone for the time being. She turned away and paused before Ivan, feeling his heat and presence—a kind that all men seem to give off. "Have you felt any better since yesterday?"

"Yes. Katya brought the bird in."

Natalia smiled. Her pale lips revealed her small, white teeth. It lightened up her face and gave her the look of a princess. "Just like when we were children?"

"Exactly so."

The smile fell away. "Where is she? Where is Yao?"

"Yao is in the study doing some Russian reading. I don't know where Katrina is."

"I suppose we should leave her as she is." Natalia said and walked away, her shoes clicking against the floor.

Later that day the two sisters decided to make dinner. Katrina busily set a pot of water to boil and began chopping beets. Natalia, sitting at a chair and hunched over a bucket, peeled tomatoes. Her sleeves were rolled up and her hair braided back tightly.

Katrina started to make a conversation with her several times, hesitated, and fell silent again. Around the tenth time she did so, Natalia sighed.

"No, sister, I refuse to play match-maker with you. We are not wealthy old women with nothing else to do. I refuse." She placed the clean potato in a bowl and picked up another, digging the knife into it and testily slicing away the brown outer layer.

"But you know how hopeless men are. If one of them was a woman then maybe there would be some sense, but alas…" she sighed and placed the beets in a bowl, her hands stained red. She moved on to carrots. She held the knife right above the end and then set it down gently. Hunching her shoulders, she leaned against the counter. "I feel so terrible letting the two walk right past each other. I bet neither realizes the extent of their feelings!"

"Give them time and they will mature." Natalia said warily.

"Oh but I am so tired of waiting!" Katrina cried, chopping the carrot angrily, "I don't want to watch them suffer! I want them to embrace and kiss warmly!"

"And what if Ivan is sent back to the war? You know things have been going badly for our side lately. It's only a matter of time before they call their best man back."

"But he's retired, sister!"

"So he may be, but they'll grab him by the hair and drag him in no matter how much he pleads."

"And what if he—he—doesn't return?"

"That is exactly what I was referring to, dear sister. It is not a good thing for him to fall in love. On that matter, where will Yao go?"

"Back to Moscow, I suppose. Or home, even, or perhaps they'll send him to Paris or Milan."

"And furthermore, where are they?" Natalia looked up and down the hallway, into the vacant living room.

"I believe Ivan went out to see some of the townsfolk. He told me that some have invited all of us to visit tomorrow. It will certainly be interesting! Imagine all the different personalities we'll meet. And as for Yao," Katrina paused, checking the boiling water. "I think he's outside." She stood on her tip-toes and glanced out the window into the backyard. Sure enough, Yao was there. He stood by a tree, apparently busied with something small in his hands. The air was warm enough to warrant his thin silks again. Earlier Natalia had tied his hair into a braid, though she didn't admit it to her siblings. "Yes he is." She confirmed and fell silent for the rest of the preparations.

The borscht that night was impeccable. Though Ivan arrived finally when the three there were half-way done. His cheeks were rosy and his lips red, but his eyes were brooding and gloomy yet again. He stood at the door way, his shoulders pushed forwards. He wore his cotton shirt, unbuttoned at the top and exposing his chest and the top of a long, ropy white scar. His feet were far apart and still, his fingers pale and the cuticles starting to become red.

"What is it?" Katrina asked, wide-eyed.

Grudgingly, Ivan shook his head and entered the room, slumping down on his chair and pulling his bowl filled with lukewarm soup towards him. The red concoction slopped down the sides with his gruffness.

No one ever found out what had happened to Ivan that evening.

BEFORE YOU ASK ABOUT IT, PLEASE READ:

The song Katrina was singing was Katyusha, a very notorious Russian song. The translation here is NOT exact. It was slightly modified to be more poetic, if you will. But the meaning holds true and I hope the emotions are conveyed truthfully as well.

Usage of Katya and Natya - they're nicknames. There is no exact nickname for any Russian name and these are just possible ones. Katyusha and Nastya could also be used, I suppose.