Mama cleared her throat. She hated talk about what was going on in the village and preferred to ignore the situation altogether. “I need someone to take this to Oksana’s house.” Mama held out the basket filled with a jar of borscht and a loaf of bread. “She’s been ill, and a good meal will be a big help to them.”
Katya threw aside her mending and jumped out of her chair. “I’ll go!”
A chuckle escaped Tato’s weary face. “Even after a day spent helping me clean out the barn, you can’t sit still, can you, Katya?”
“I feel like taking a walk.” She shrugged and grinned when Tato winked at her. She’d do anything to get out of patching clothes, and he knew it.
“She shouldn’t go alone. Go along with her, Alina,” Mama said. “You’ve been working on your embroidering all day. It will be good for you to take a break.”
Alina stretched her arms over her head and sighed. “You’re right. My eyes are starting to ache. A walk will be nice.”
“It’s late, so don’t linger,” Tato said, all traces of amusement gone from his voice. “Drop the food off and come right home.”
“Yes, Tato.” Katya buttoned her coat and wrapped a thick shawl over her head. Continued tensions with the activists kept everyone on edge, including her normally placid father.
Outside, the snow sparkled under the stars and the still, cold air made Katya’s lungs sting when she inhaled. She stared up at the sky, then her gaze fell on Pavlo and Kolya’s family farm across the field.
“Missing Pavlo?” Alina teased.
“No.” Katya glared at her sister, then smiled. “Well, maybe.”
Alina laughed as she set off down the road. “Let’s hurry. Maybe he and Kolya will stop by this evening.”
“Did they say that?” Katya ran after her, giddiness at the possibility of seeing Pavlo tonight making her steps light.
They giggled and chatted as they walked and were nearly there when a gunshot cracked through the night air. The food basket slipped from Katya’s fingers and spilled onto the frozen ground. She raced down the moonlit path toward her aunt and uncle’s house, the bread and soup forgotten. Alina yelled for her to stop, but Sasha’s screams rang louder and kept Katya’s feet moving.
Alina’s long legs reached her easily and she tackled Katya to the ground. They landed in a snowdrift next to the barn, hidden from view. Katya’s pulse pounded in her ears, and terror made her body shake.
“Stop, Katya!” Alina hissed into her ear. “We have to get out of here!”
Limbs tangled, and their heavy coats twisted around them like a vice, but it didn’t keep Katya from trying to wrestle away from Alina. Her arm throbbed where Alina’s hand dug into it.
“No!” Katya wrenched her left leg from under Alina and rolled onto her stomach. Snow made its way into her boots and under the thick skirt she wore, the icy crystals numbing her legs. “We have to help them!” The restrained whisper made her throat ache.
Katya ripped off her coat, popping the buttons, and scrambled away from Alina. Sasha’s screams quieted to a whimper but still hung heavy in the air over their uncle’s quiet pleading.
“Please!” Alina begged as she grabbed Katya’s leg. “You know it’s too late for them! What do you think will happen if you run out there?”
Katya hesitated. Her sister was right, but how could she live with herself if she did nothing, just like everyone else?
“You will be killed,” Alina said, answering her own question when Katya didn’t. “And then what? What will become of Mama and Tato if they lose you, too? We need to go home, now!”
Her reference to their parents stopped Katya in her tracks. “I can’t. You can go if you want. I need to at least see what happens. We can peek around the corner of the barn and not be seen.”
Alina wrung her hands and looked in the direction of their home. “Fine. But we stay together. Don’t try to leave me again.”
The full moon reflecting on the snowy ground illuminated the scene in front of the girls. Two burly OGPU men in tall black boots and dark overcoats dragged their sobbing aunt out of the house. Already in her bed clothes and without a coat, Aunt Oksana flinched as the snow touched her bare skin.
Two other men stood in the yard with their pistols pointed at Uncle Marko. One, a small and skinny activist, looked to be Katya’s age. His pale face showed the shadows of a faint mustache, and he glanced at the older grizzled man next to him for direction.