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“You have to walk on your own from here.”
Her face was white as the stones beside the water. “I’m
scared, Papa.”
“I’ll stay right here, and you’ll be with your mother soon.
Just walk between those trees,” he pointed at the trunks which
twined together like a cathedral arch, delicate limbs ornamenting
each side.
Zinfir and Dravij huffed smoke and twined fitfully around
Aleksandr’s ankles like oversize cats.
Minchka shook, clutching her yellow comb in one hand,
the other hand hanging at her side. She turned and stumbled
toward the trees, and then she was through them. The shadows
of the forest swallowed her. The dragons lay at his feet, still and
silent. The three of them stayed there until the sun broke over the
trees and chased the night away. The light fell cold and hard, as
empty as the world. Aleksandr walked to the two trees, staring at
the ground. Five steps from the river’s edge, Minchka’s footsteps
vanished. Aleksandr knelt and pressed his hand into the damp,
hard earth where she had walked. Tears froze on his cheeks.
He delayed as long as he could, but eventually he and the
dragons returned to the house. He hadn’t eaten for more than a
day and hadn’t felt the cold for hours—a dangerous sign. Somehow,
he had to keep drawing in breath, getting through the hours
because one day, Minchka would come back. One day she’d
return to his world, and he had to be here when she did.
Seven times seven is a life. How could he possibly survive
seven years without her
The days moved slowly. First a year passed and then another.
Aleksandr’s hair began to gray and thin. The winter carved itself
into his face, roughening his skin and deepening the lines and
wrinkles.
The last day of his interminable wait dragged on longer
than all seven years combined. The sun moved sluggishly in the
sky. Zinfir and Dravij snapped irritably at the air, shooting tiny
February 2014 57