⧗ CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE ⧗

Dmitri woke up on cold hard granite.

The wind was what first stirred him. The strange dazed existence between sleep and wakefulness, feeling the wrongness in what was not his bed beneath him, no blankets or pillows. No warmth at all. In fact, his fingers and toes were already tingling with numbness.

Dmitri opened his eyes, and was met with white nothingness.

Then his eyes adjusted to the light, and recognized where he was. Or rather, the barren landscape around him. Lying in the middle of a frozen field, dressed in clothes he hadn't gone to bed with.

Heart pounding, breath turning to clouds in front of his face, Dmitri scrambled to his feet, the sudden rush making him dizzy. Head whipping to and fro, he saw nothing, no one, for miles around. Just endless wilderness for miles.

Nearby someone had left a small pack of supplies. Spotting it, Dmitri rushed to open the pack, finding a blessed pair of gloves, as well as a hat. The rest was meager. A compass. A nearly empty matchbox. A canteen of water. A small knife for carving wood or dressing game. Or perhaps his own throat, if he decided a slow death of cold and starvation wasn't quick enough.

At least it was light, as Dmitri slung it onto his back. Adrenaline had him bursting with energy within minutes of waking, and Dmitri knew every second he wasted was another second closer to death.

He took out his compass and tried to gauge where he was. Taking deep slow breaths to calm himself before he went tearing off in the wrong direction. The day was overcast, as it usually was in this region, meaning there was no sun to tell time. It felt like morning, though — Dmitri was only a little hungry, about how he usually felt when he went for breakfast.

He tried to remember the maps they'd been shown of the one hundred miles surrounding the palace. Dmitri couldn't imagine they'd be further than that. The average human walking pace was between three and four miles per hour; Dmitri was leaning closer to four thanks to his height. And in the time between sunup and sundown, he had maybe ten hours of daylight to move. Thirty miles tops per day, if he was diligent. Longer, if and when he had to stop and gather supplies, food, and other survival necessities. Less distance as he grew weaker with lack of food and water, succumbing to the elements.

Dmitri tried not to think about that.

He looked around for any clues. Mountains in the far distance. That was south. The palace laid north of them somewhere, but which way? Easy or west? No way he should head due south. It wouldn't be so easy.

Would it?

Dmitri looked around for any signs of tracks or trails that would indicate the people who had put him here. But he didn't see anything. No tire tracks or footprints. It was as if he were dropped here by the hand of God Himself.

But south was better than nothing. Hoping he'd come across his sisters, who'd doubtless also be scattered about the landscape, Dmitri began his journey.

The walking wasn't easy, though the terrain was largely flat for the first leg of his journey. Largely rolling hills, they were covered with hard snow and ice, dead plants giving way to loose rock that threatened to roll an ankle or send him tumbling down a hill again.

An hour in and Dmitri was already sweating. But he couldn't afford to take off his hat or clothes. The weather wasn't bad, but it was easily below freezing. Keeping his hat on was an absolute necessity. He had to maintain his body heat for as long as possible.

It was far more desolate here than the maintained forest they practiced in. Not a tree for miles. Some low shrubbery he gave a half-hearted search whenever he came across them. No berries so far. No animals he cared to hunt yet.

Dmitri took careful measured sips of his water. Just to keep the hunger at bay. If he found a good patch of clean snow, he'd stuff some in his canteen and tuck it in the inside pocket of his coat to warm it up. Eating the snow itself would only lower his core body temperature.

His boots weren't optimal either. Solid leather, military grade, but not properly lined for the weather. On the third hour, his toes were getting cold again, so Dmitri scraped some dead leaves and pine needles he found. A little uncomfortable, but provided some extra insulation.

But Dmitri knew no matter how many tricks he employed, time would win out in the end. He wouldn't last a week out here. And he was getting hungry.

It felt like afternoon by the time Dmitri found some plants that looked edible. Indeed, they looked as though they'd already been nibbled on by some other creature. Dmitri decided that was good enough for him and ate a few. The taste was a little bitter, but he didn't die, so he stored the little rest in his pack. And, as the light in the sky started to dim, he began picking up whatever broken sticks and twigs he could find, and hoped to find someplace to take shelter for the night.

The mountains appeared no closer than they did that morning, but the landscape began to change as Dmitri continued further south. The rolling plains turned rockier as he hit what might be foothills. A promising river cut through a small gorge, and while Dmitri couldn't recall any river drawing close to the Red Room, he liked his odds better near a natural resource. Mostly, he hoped some of the other girls may have found it as well.

It was definitely nightfall when Dmitri found a rocky overhang near the river. It wasn't much shelter, but it was something over his head. And it was getting too dark for him to travel any further. The night was as cloudy as the day and there was no light to see by. Dmitri's stomach grumbled in complaint, cramping painfully at the lack of food over the course of the day.

Maybe he was a fool, to travel so soon and so far without pausing to gather more resources. Maybe he should have tried some hunting first so he had something to sustain himself moving forward. Dmitri's only positives was that he found water. He could survive a lot longer without food, but no water? That would be a miserable way to die.

Still, there was no denying how famished he was, and Dmitri gave in and ate the rest of the few berries he found. It wasn't great. But it was better than nothing.

His attempt to build a fire with what little shrubbery he could find did not go well. Dmitri couldn't get a match to light, and soon enough, he was out of matches. Damn it! Dmitri knew there were other ways to start a fire, but his hands were cold and it was dark and he was just so tired. His feet ached and he just wanted his warm bed again.

He went to sleep on the cold hard ground, hungry and restless.

Dmitri tossed and turned for most of the night, not getting much rest. The noises. The noises were so much more obvious now that he was lying still in the dark. Listening to the creeping and the rustling. The squeaks and chitters. Animals scurrying about. Some probably harmless. Some probably not.

The thought of Siberian bears kept Dmitri up all night.

The second day wasn't much better than the first. Dmitri continued to follow the river for lack of a better idea; it curved and weaved through the landscape, a much less straightforward route than he had taken the day before. Dmitri didn't know how much mileage he covered yesterday, but today felt like slower progress, not wanting to wander far from the river.

At one point, he saw a fish flit through the water, and started salivating right then and there. His stomach growled earnestly. When was his last full meal?

Water shut it up for a little while more.

Upon the river, he came across a rabbit drinking from the floe. Before Dmitri could even think of how to hunt it, it darted off in a flash. Not that Dmitri had anything to hunt it with. But it did give him an idea.

As he came across more sticks, he picked them up and began sharpening them. Partly as something to do, and partly as caveman hunting spears. Or walking sticks. Whatever served most useful in the moment. It kept his mind off the most dire thoughts, at least. Dmitri didn't really have an arm for spear-throwing, but if an angry deer came his way, maybe he'd stand a chance.

Night fell, and once more he had to find shelter.

He was getting weaker, Dmitri knew. He could feel it. A dizziness in his head, a stumble in his feet. He'd found a few more berries, and some mushrooms he was 89% positive weren't toxic. The mushrooms were more filling, and after deciding death maybe wasn't the worst thing after all, Dmitri tried one. Didn't die, didn't hallucinate, so he must be right after all, and picked as many as he could find.

Taking chances? Yes. But Dmitri had to trust in what he was taught. In his own abilities to discern good from bad. It's kept him alive so far. Hopefully it'll keep him alive a little longer.

This time, Dmitri really did find a cave. The terrain was becoming more hostile, the river less accessible as it plunged down small waterfalls and through narrow gorges. Rocks became bigger and bigger and the walk felt more like a hike. He was slowing down, and not just because he was losing energy.

Dmitri attempted to fish with his spears before calling it quits that night. He was tempted to burn one of his spears, which was quite substantial. But the idea of fire drawing predators spooked him, and his own waning energy convinced him to just rest. This time, Dmitri was so exhausted he passed out directly on the cold rock.

He awoke to something burning.

The smoke made his eyes tear, and for a second Dmitri couldn't tell what was going on beyond the orange glow. But some ancient, primal instinct in his brain must have been alarmed at fire and he jolted up, gasping at the sight of the flames burning only a few feet away.

Not a raging inferno.

Just a campfire. A petite frame stoking the wood, rotating a fish on a spit.

She jumped at Dmitri's sudden movement, her hands going up, "Hey, it's okay! It's okay. It's just me, Dmitri, you're okay."

Ksenia.

Her blue eyes burned in the firelight, the total darkness casting her in stark contrast against the flames. She drew nearer, and pulled up a blanket over his shoulder. No, not a blanket. A sleeping bag.

"Y-y-y-y-you got a sleeping bag?" Dmitri demanded, shocked, but the words barely came out through chattering teeth.

"And a bow," Ksenia said. "But no arrows. Or a knife to carve them. Or a compass either for that matter. Seems like we all got different tools."

Only later would Dmitri realize that would've been an incentive to urge the girls to find each other and work together. But he had just assumed they all received the same supply. He was shivering so hard he could barely think. His eyes dropped to the fish. "You g-g-got that?"

"With one of your spears," Ksenia nodded, trying to smile at him. Now that his brain wasn't panicking, Dmitri could finally take in her appearance. She looked thinner, rougher, probably not faring any better than he on such little food and so much travel. "I'll try to craft some arrows in the morning. Here, have some of this,"

With his knife, she carefully cut away part of the fish and handed him a piece of piping hot meat. It smelled delicious, and Dmitri didn't hesitate to scarf it down as soon as it was in his hands. The warmth burned, but Dmitri didn't care. It felt so good to hit his stomach. He barely even tasted it — but it was still the best damn fish he's ever had in his life.

"How did you find me?" He finally asked, after eating a few more pieces. It wasn't enough, it would never be enough, but for the first time Dmitri felt he could think straight.

"I didn't," Ksenia replied. "I just happened to stumble across you. I thought some animal was following me, so I started moving at night. I honestly thought you were a bear, but your red hair gave you away."

Dmitri laughed weakly, running a hand across his head. He must look terrible. "Well, thanks for not killing me."

Her eyes sparked in the light. "Of course."

They finished the rest of the fish, till it was little more than tiny little bones scattered across the rock. Then Ksenia reshaped the sleeping bag, getting in first before gesturing for Dmitri to join her. He hesitated only for a moment; the argument of preserving and sharing body heat defeated any sort of thought Dmitri would've otherwise had. It was a tight fit. But oh so warm. Between a full stomach and the comfort of the sleeping bag, Dmitri passed out so quickly he never got to hear what Ksenia tried to whisper in his ear.

The next day went much better.

Dmitri felt more alert that following morning, though it had begun to snow. The fish had settled nicely in his stomach, and Ksenia's presence had boosted his spirits immensely. As they gathered up camp that morning, he asked, "Did you see anyone else?"

"No," Ksenia shook her head as she ground out the embers with her boot. "You're the first. Here, take the bow. It's too big for me."

Dmitri didn't know what she meant at first, before handing it to him. And then he understood; the bow, professionally made, was too long for her petite body. Even if she had the arm strength for the draw, it was too awkward for her to use.

As it was, they still didn't have arrows.

"I'll find feathers if you find sticks," Ksenia offered. And Dmitri accepted; though he would make less mileage that day, he felt it was time well spent, taking the morning easy as they gathered supplies and sharpened narrow sticks to points. Ksenia wasn't a bad fletcher, either, cutting into the ends of each shaft, lining up and shearing the feathers she'd found.

By noontime, they were practicing with the bow, and found the makeshift arrows held up decently. Good for at least one solid kill, Dmitri hoped. The drawing of the string hurt his shoulder, but not as much as he thought it would, and better when he switched arms.

And then they kept moving.

Though Dmitri was fairly sure he moved slower with Ksenia, time passed by faster. It was good to have someone to talk to, to have his back, to pick out the best route through uncertain terrain. Ksenia was much better at spotting game than him, and with her help, he managed to catch a hare. She hung onto it for dinner tonight, smiling at him in a way that made his stomach flutter.

"What?" He asked, trying to shift the bow so it sat more comfortably on his shoulder.

"Nothing," She said, hiding behind that little secret smile of hers. "Just fun watching you do the hunter-gatherer thing. Caveman is a good look on you. Makes you seem….hm, I don't know. Dangerous."

Dmitri snorted. "It's just a rabbit."

"For now," Ksenia smiled.

Dmitri still kept an eye out for their other sisters, but despite how far the landscape stretched, he saw nothing. As this third day drew to a close, they found shelter in a crevice, a little up on a small cliff overlooking the river. Though it was small, they double-checked for any unwanted wildlife, before making it their campsite.

Ksenia proved she didn't need his petty matchbox to start a fire, rubbing two sticks together to alight a pile of dead leaves and needles. Together, they blew gently upon the flames until it burned the thicker wood, and soon they had a nice little fire going, hot enough to cook their hare.

It was almost magical, in a way. Lounging beneath the rocky ceiling, watching as the snow drifted lazily down, nestled together under the draped sleeping bag. Practically cozy. Almost indulgent. Perhaps he'd last longer out here than he thought, with Ksenia at his side.

She sat nestled against his side, taking in the warmth of the flames as the night drew in colder. Her head resting on his shoulder, she sighed. Dmitri glanced down at her. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing," Her eyes were closed, lashes fluttering slightly. "It just… it feels good, you know. In a strange way. To be out of the Red Room. To be… unobserved."

"Oh, yeah, I guess," Dmitri hadn't really thought of it that way, but he supposed she had a point. It was no one but them out there. He laughed a little. "To, what, be ourselves?"

"Yes," she said, and surprised him with a kiss on his neck. "Exactly."

Ksenia's lips were hot on his skin, a welcome reprieve from the cold. It's the only reason (or so Dmitri told himself) that he let her continue, that kiss turning to teeth, working a bruise under his jaw. A delightful feeling, really, that lovely drop of pain that spiced the affection. One moment his eyes were closed, and next he opened them, Ksenia had straddled his lap, and nearly had Dmitri pressed to the ground.

Her lips were on his by that point, and Dmitri was far too busy enjoying himself, hands roaming her body, to realize hers were doing the same. Small fingers undoing his jacket, slipping up his shirt, working at his pants.

And just like in the shower, Dmitri remembered himself. Though this time, his resistance was a little slower to respond. He tried to protest past her kisses, "Ksenia, we can't —"

"Can't what?" She asked, pausing only to stare into his eyes, her breath hot on his cheek. "Enjoy ourselves? Look around, Dmitri. There's no one here. No security, no cameras, no Madame. We can do what we want. The only question to ask is: do you want me?"

Yes. Dmitri wanted to say it. It was such a simple, easy answer. His pants were already growing a little tight. And still, he said, "It's not safe."

"It's as safe as it's going to get." Ksenia replied, an eyebrow raising. "Is it the natural consequences you're worried about? Then don't. I can take care of it."

Frustrated thoughts warred with a wanting body. And at last Dmitri had to give way to his final, humiliating defense. "I-I don't know what I'm doing."

"Sure you do," Ksenia smiled, and he both hated and loved that teasing tone. "We both took the same class. We both know how it works. Even better, we know how to make it feel good."

"In theory," Dmitri said. Just because he knew the clit existed didn't mean he could utilize it successfully.

Ksenia sighed again. "Thing of it this way, Dmitri. One way or another, we'll have to practice this anyways. They'll send us out in the field. That's how it usually goes."

One hand cupped the back of his neck, thumb rubbing circles against his nape; while her other hand palmed his crotch.

She continued, "And I don't want my first time to be with some disgusting old lech, with wrinkled hands and a withered body. Do you?"

"No," Dmitri breathed, his body already growing hotter. Wanton thoughts revolted at the idea of not embracing Ksenia — but some stranger twenty years his senior he was ordered to seduce.

Would it really even be seduction at that point? Was Ksenia right, in how they'd be introduced to practicing sex? He supposed it had to happen at some point, and not with each other. But Dmitri already knew: he didn't want anyone else's hands on him besides Ksenia's.

Her gaze burned into his. "So what's your answer, then? Do you want me, or would you rather wait for the fat old body they'll throw on top of you later?"

Well, when she puts it that way…

"You," Dmitri said, and this time without hesitation. "You, every time."

"Good," Ksenia smiled, not unlike the cat that got the canary. And oh, how her hand rubbed atop the front of his pants. She seemed to enjoy the way Dmitri was already panting, how his hands tightened around her waist. Suddenly the fact that she was atop him became much more prescient in Dmitri's mind.

With that, she ground her hips down on his, and laughed at the sound he made. Though there was no one around to hear them, Ksenia still placed a hand over Dmitri's mouth. She leaned in once more, saying, "Remember the one rule, Dmitri. Ladies come first. Understand?"

Dmitri couldn't speak behind the press of her palm, so could only frantically nod his head. He absolutely had to undo his pants, otherwise the pressure would for sure kill him, but when he let go of Ksenia to reach for the buttons, she grabbed his hands and pulled them back. "No, no, let me worry about that. You worry about this."

And Ksenia knew exactly what she was doing, having Dmitri undo her trousers while she his. How she so carefully guided his hand between her legs, let his fingers explore, put to place with touch with what he remembered from textbook diagrams. Her words playing a game of Hot and Cold, until he found what he was looking for. Her teasing voice failing her, turning to sighs, and Dmitri felt like he achieved at least a little victory.

At the same time, her hand opening the front of his pants, and if it weren't for her touch keeping him warm, Dmitri would've been much less eager to have his cock out in this frigid night air. Either way, he's stiff as a board soon enough.

And when his hand was hot and wet between her legs, and Ksenia had so thoroughly worked Dmitri over until he was trembling with need, did she finally relent with the removal of her pants.

There were no other risks taken. Aside from what was necessary, their clothes stayed on. The sleeping bag draped over Ksenia's hips and down across Dmitri, creating a small tent of heat. He could barely see beneath, only through feel did he really sense Ksenia's grip on him, almost a threat to keep absolutely still as she guided herself atop him — and then that slow sinking down.

The wetness, the warmth. The sharp intake of breath, or perhaps not breathing at all. Eyes squeezed shut at the sudden, new, bizarre, wonderful sensation of being inside her. The books and videos could never fully encapsulate the experience, could never have told Dmitri the strange yet wonderful sensation of her moving around him, the inner muscles that flex in her pelvis, every small shift in movement that aroused him further.

It must have been obvious, for Ksenia was able to warn him between her own deep breaths, "Don't! Don't you dare. Not until I'm done."

Dmitri didn't think he really had that much control of his body, but he could barely breathe, much less speak his assent. Just nod and pray he didn't disappoint her.

And Ksenia had put herself in the position of being in control. A wise decision that left Dmitri with the sole responsibility of meeting her needs. Taking in her large eyes, flushed cheeks, open mouth as she rolled her hips. Finding her comfort, before she began to slowly rise and fall.

After that, Dmitri almost gave up. Almost. If not for the vague threat of whatever Ksenia might do to him, did he cling to whatever last shred of self control he had. Which Ksenia did not make easy, between her riding him and then, apparently having fun with his extended torture, decided to take his hand, covered in her slick, and start licking it off his fingers.

Dmitri heard himself say something, but couldn't even understand it. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was nonsense, just another groan escaping his body as Ksenia took full pleasure out of it. But what delightful pleasure it was. To save himself, Dmitri could only close his eyes and let his head fall back, letting Ksenia have what she wanted.

And only when Ksenia had finally rocked her last with a delicious little cry, did she finally bid Dmitri to let go, and they collapsed into each other's arms, hot and spent.

Ksenia's legs still tangled with his, face tucked against his neck, a delirium of soft kisses.

"See," she whispered. "What better thing is there, than this?"

And as exhausted as he was, Dmitri couldn't find a single argument against it. He could only admit defeat, feeling more at ease than he had in ages. "Of course, of course... You were right."

She giggled, lips pressing to the vein still beating fast in his neck. "I always am."