Page 70 of Tiger's Trek
“The two of you aren’t eating,” the little girl said. “If you can’t eat, I don’t want to eat either.”
“But we’re older, milaya devushka. We can do without a meal or two. But you? You still have some growing to do. Don’t you want to get big and strong?”
“Oh, I’m never going to get any bigger. That’s what my aunties say.”
“What do you mean?” asked Stacia.
“I’m the snow child,” she said simply, putting her thumb in her mouth.
Just then a wagon seemed to appear just outside their camp. It was drawn by two large horses. When they came to a stop, a very pregnant woman, her husband, and their two young children approached.
“May we share your fire this evening?” asked the husband. “My wife is nearing the blessed day of our next child, and it would be nice to save a bit of time and spend it with her instead of hunting firewood.”
“Of course you may,” Stacia replied.
“Spasibo. My name’s Fyodor. My wife’s Dinara, and our two young ones are Klara and Kiril.”
“Rad vstreche,” Zakhar said.
“To you as well,” Dinara replied, groaning as she sat down, leaning back against the wheel of their wagon. Her husband hurried and placed some blankets behind her back and tucked them around her, then sat the children next to her and put thin blankets around them as well, before tending to the horses.
They all warmed their hands. “It’s so chilly tonight, isn’t it?” Dinara said. “But your fire is toasty. We’re lucky, aren’t we, kroshkas?”
“Yes, Mama,” the two children replied.
They buried their little faces in the blanket, and soon the father passed them a small cup and a piece of bread. “It’s all we can spare,” he said, whispering to his wife.
The mother smiled brightly at her children anyway. “Look what your handsome papa has brought us!” she said. “A cup of milk and the softest bread in the world! He must love us more than anything, da?”
“Yes, Mama,” the two children said as they looked up at their pretty mama with hope-filled eyes.
She broke off the largest pieces for them, saving only a tiny bit for herself, then took a sip from the cup and made sure each child drank down a good share.
Before Stacia could intervene, Zima got up with her saved biscuit and walked over to the group. “I have an extra biscuit,” she said quietly. “Would you like some?”
The mother-to-be smiled her softest smile. “Well, aren’t you just a ray of blessed sunshine on a bitter cold night? Thank you, sweetheart,” Dinara said.
Stacia could see the sparkle of tears in her eyes. When Zima turned as if to leave, the mother shifted, opening her blanket. “Come, child. Would you like to sit with us? We’ll dunk your biscuit in the milk to soften, then we’ll all have a bite, da?”
Sucking her thumb, Zima smiled, nodding vigorously. The woman didn’t complain about Zima’s cold skin but tucked her in close against her own body, along with her children. When the father returned, conveniently just after the food was finished, he pulled the little boy onto his lap and scolded all of them about keeping the warm blankets to themselves. He put his arm around his wife, and the children asked for a story.
Stacia said, “Before you begin, we have grain. We can boil some up for you or put on a pot for the morning, if you like.”
“We’re well enough off tonight,” the father said. “Perhaps in the morning we’ll take you up on your kind offer. Now, then,” he said. “Shall I tell you the story of ‘The Duck That Laid Golden Eggs’?”
“Oh yes! That’s one of my favorites!” said Klara.
“I don’t know that story,” said Zima.
“Well then,” replied the father, “you’re in for a treat. Especially if you’re fond of birds.”
Zima began to cry. “I love little birds. But so many of them died!”
“Oh no, my dear one,” the mama said, pulling Zima close. “You must remember that little birds are special. They never stay dead for long. It’s why they have wings, you know. God turns them to angels right away. He doesn’t even need to judge them. They’re already perfect.”
“They are?”
“Absolutely. They’re His best little souls.”
