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you made me last summer.”
Aleksandr nodded. “Very well, I will gather them. You
rest.”
She lay with a dragon stretched on either side of her and
watched as he moved around the room. Her comb was beside the
water bowl and the pouch hung by the door. The doll, however,
proved more elusive. Aleksandr searched beside the food jars,
checked the hearth and the log pile. He looked under the small
table and even inside the scrap bin where old clothes were set
aside to be remade. He searched every corner of the tiny oneroom
house, but he could not find the doll. Minchka’s bottom
lip had begun to tremble and the dark half circles under her eyes
deepened.
“I have to have my doll, Papa, I can’t go without her,”
Minchka pleaded.
He swore under his breath and searched again, but still
couldn’t find the doll. The moon was high in the sky. He had to
send her into the forest now. If he did not....He considered it. Perhaps
her illness had broken on its own. Perhaps it had nothing to
do with Sinivushka. Aleksandr grimaced, Sinivushka was pulling
them in like fish on a line. Struggling would only wound them
more.
“I am sorry, little one. I cannot find the doll. Will you take
something else instead”
Minchka began to cry but shook her head.
He gathered Minchka in his arms, dislodging the dragons
from the sleeping platform. They hissed but twined around
his boots, nevertheless. And then he was walking outside, with
Minchka, with the dragons. The moon was so bright it hurt his
eyes, and he squinted.
The walk down to the river took less than a quarter hour.
Frost dusted the tree trunks and clung in a hard crust over the
ground. The crunch of his boots was loud as musket fire. He
found the two elms easily. Minchka was so light in his arms, so
small. She wobbled, clutching his arm when he set her on her feet.
Beyond them the river burbled and rushed, singing a dirge.
56 Writing Tomorrow Magazine