next year. At least, that’s what I had done in past years, but I knew this year might
be different. By then the land might not be mine any longer. It might belong to the state and I would be forced to work on it for nothing or be sent away to Kazakhstan, Siberia, somewhere they
could wring the sweat from my body and make me work until my heart refused to beat any longer.
I followed to one side of the mess of tracks, while the men before me had walked directly in Dariya’s footsteps. The poplars cast shadows that fell long and dark across the snow-covered
steppe, and I headed towards them, wondering what the men had found. Maybe Dimitri was scolding his daughter right now, telling her she shouldn’t have run away, bearing accusing looks from
eyes that had witnessed her father’s cruelty. Or, worse, they might have found only her cold body, her blood frozen in her veins, her eyes hardened. But the truth was worse than that.
As I came closer, I could hear voices and see the shapes of men among the trees.
Here there were tufts of long grass which protruded from the carpet, their stalks heavy with the weight of ice. The line of poplars with their long, naked legs, evenly spaced and regimented as
if planted by men. Behind them, a wooded area of stark black trunks and branches. Trees that would only come to life when the snow was gone and the air began to warm. Dark branches harsh against
the white of the snow, icicles hanging from them like wild and strange fruit. And the ground was laced with the shadows of those wretched limbs.
‘Dimitri,’ I called, and the voices ahead of me stopped. Only the sound of my boots in the snow. A soft crunch and squeak. ‘Dimitri.’
‘Who’s that?’ came the reply, and I saw the shadows moving. Shapes coming towards me in the darkening day. The blood now seeping from the sun, the final strength of that light
shining as if to burn out the very last of its energy before falling from the earth.
I didn’t reply. I didn’t shout my name. I continued on until I could see the men, and Dimitri came forward and, for a moment, we stood like that. Them on one side and me on the
other.
‘Have you found her?’ I asked.
‘She’s not here,’ Dimitri said.
‘Any sign?’
‘There are tracks,’ he said. ‘All the way up to here. We followed them into the woods.’
‘And?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’
Dimitri looked at me and I held his stare. Our breath reached out, merging around us. The other men stayed behind Dimitri, not speaking, and when I looked over at them, none of them met my eye.
They knew their shame.
‘You walked over the tracks,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘You followed Dariya’s tracks up here?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you walked over them. I could see your boot marks all the way up here. All of you.’
Dimitri stared.
‘You ruined her tracks; they’re no good any more.’
‘Why didn’t she tell us?’ Dimitri took a step towards me.
‘What?’
‘Lara. Why didn’t she tell us where Dariya had gone?’
‘You’re trying to blame Lara? Why the hell do you think she didn’t tell you? She was afraid.’
‘Afraid of what?’
‘Of what? I can’t believe you even need to ask after what happened today. She’s afraid of you , Dimitri. Of them .’ I waved a hand at the men behind him.
‘Afraid of what was happening in our village. She was afraid of the same things your own daughter was afraid of; the men and women who were shouting like animals.’
‘ He was the animal. What he did to those children. If that man did—’
‘That man didn’t do anything to those children. They were his own children, Dimitri. His own . That man you murdered did nothing more than serve his country. He fought for us.
For you.’ I could feel my anger rising again, my breath coming heavier now as Dimitri tried to shuck the weight of blame from his shoulders. ‘And you strung him up from a
tree.’
Dimitri stared. ‘I . . . she . . . she should’ve
be different. By then the land might not be mine any longer. It might belong to the state and I would be forced to work on it for nothing or be sent away to Kazakhstan, Siberia, somewhere they
could wring the sweat from my body and make me work until my heart refused to beat any longer.
I followed to one side of the mess of tracks, while the men before me had walked directly in Dariya’s footsteps. The poplars cast shadows that fell long and dark across the snow-covered
steppe, and I headed towards them, wondering what the men had found. Maybe Dimitri was scolding his daughter right now, telling her she shouldn’t have run away, bearing accusing looks from
eyes that had witnessed her father’s cruelty. Or, worse, they might have found only her cold body, her blood frozen in her veins, her eyes hardened. But the truth was worse than that.
As I came closer, I could hear voices and see the shapes of men among the trees.
Here there were tufts of long grass which protruded from the carpet, their stalks heavy with the weight of ice. The line of poplars with their long, naked legs, evenly spaced and regimented as
if planted by men. Behind them, a wooded area of stark black trunks and branches. Trees that would only come to life when the snow was gone and the air began to warm. Dark branches harsh against
the white of the snow, icicles hanging from them like wild and strange fruit. And the ground was laced with the shadows of those wretched limbs.
‘Dimitri,’ I called, and the voices ahead of me stopped. Only the sound of my boots in the snow. A soft crunch and squeak. ‘Dimitri.’
‘Who’s that?’ came the reply, and I saw the shadows moving. Shapes coming towards me in the darkening day. The blood now seeping from the sun, the final strength of that light
shining as if to burn out the very last of its energy before falling from the earth.
I didn’t reply. I didn’t shout my name. I continued on until I could see the men, and Dimitri came forward and, for a moment, we stood like that. Them on one side and me on the
other.
‘Have you found her?’ I asked.
‘She’s not here,’ Dimitri said.
‘Any sign?’
‘There are tracks,’ he said. ‘All the way up to here. We followed them into the woods.’
‘And?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’
Dimitri looked at me and I held his stare. Our breath reached out, merging around us. The other men stayed behind Dimitri, not speaking, and when I looked over at them, none of them met my eye.
They knew their shame.
‘You walked over the tracks,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘You followed Dariya’s tracks up here?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you walked over them. I could see your boot marks all the way up here. All of you.’
Dimitri stared.
‘You ruined her tracks; they’re no good any more.’
‘Why didn’t she tell us?’ Dimitri took a step towards me.
‘What?’
‘Lara. Why didn’t she tell us where Dariya had gone?’
‘You’re trying to blame Lara? Why the hell do you think she didn’t tell you? She was afraid.’
‘Afraid of what?’
‘Of what? I can’t believe you even need to ask after what happened today. She’s afraid of you , Dimitri. Of them .’ I waved a hand at the men behind him.
‘Afraid of what was happening in our village. She was afraid of the same things your own daughter was afraid of; the men and women who were shouting like animals.’
‘ He was the animal. What he did to those children. If that man did—’
‘That man didn’t do anything to those children. They were his own children, Dimitri. His own . That man you murdered did nothing more than serve his country. He fought for us.
For you.’ I could feel my anger rising again, my breath coming heavier now as Dimitri tried to shuck the weight of blame from his shoulders. ‘And you strung him up from a
tree.’
Dimitri stared. ‘I . . . she . . . she should’ve
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