5
By the time the first flakes were drifting down to the earth from the dark clouds overhead, Gregor had constructed a working camp. He’d added a great deal of wood to the fire, which now threw heat and light across the shadow-filled landscape. He’d also laid in a tremendous store of firewood to get them through the night.
“Venturing into the snowy night will get us killed,” he’d said simply.
Annja rested inside the large lean-to Gregor had built from thick saplings and pine boughs. She lay on a raised floor of more branches and boughs filled with huge amounts of pine needles. The scent reminded her of Christmas, even though it was a few months away yet.
“This is actually pretty comfortable,” Bob said. He was lying next to her. “I never thought pine needles could be quite so luxurious.”
Annja smiled through the pain that was still lancing her skull. “It’s not the Four Seasons, but it will certainly do.”
Gregor poked his head through the opening. “Dinner.”
Annja glanced at Bob, who shrugged. “I had him pack some military rations. It’s not the best stuff, but it will do.”
Annja frowned. “That doesn’t smell like rations.”
She ducked out through the lean-to slowly. Gregor helped her to a log he’d situated near the fire. Annja looked around and saw two rabbits cooking on spits over the fire. “You got fresh food?” she marveled.
Gregor shrugged. “Have you ever had Russian rations?”
“No,” she said.
“Then be thankful you do not have to have them tonight. I eat them for four years of my life. I say I will never eat them again.”
Bob sat down next to Annja. “Told you he was worth his weight in gold.”
Gregor said nothing but used a large knife to serve them up the fresh rabbit meat on sticks. Annja took hers and ate it like a kabob. She’d never liked rabbit much, but as the first bit hit her tongue, her saliva flowed and she realized then how very hungry she was. She bit into the meat and chewed it.
Gregor smiled. “Not so fast for you. You are still recovering from your head trauma.”
Annja chewed slowly and swallowed. “Believe me when I tell you, this is really fantastic. It tastes wonderful.”
Bob murmured his own appreciation. “Never had rabbit before.”
Gregor helped himself to some and chewed it for a moment before passing judgment. “It could use some seasonings. My mother, she used to make a stew with the rabbits. It was very nice thing.”
Annja watched his eyes dance for a moment before he concentrated on eating again. Had she just glimpsed something Gregor didn’t want anyone to see?
She turned back to her own food and finished the skewer. Gregor sliced her off some more, and she devoured that, as well. She washed it down with some of the pine-needle tea Gregor had made.
“This will help you, too,” he said.
Annja yawned. “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”
“I set a pretty grueling pace today,” Bob said. “I’m sorry about that. I should have given you some more time to acclimate to the environment and the exertion. It’s just that we can reach Yakutsk pretty quick and I’m not much for waiting. It’s a fault of mine, I know. I hope you can forgive me.”
Annja smiled. “Relax, Bob. You’re forgiven. I know what it’s like to be impatient.”
He nodded. “Curse of doing what we do.”
“There’s always the risk of someone else finding it first. But in my defense, I didn’t think I was going to feel quite so taxed today,” she said.
She stared into the fire. Ever since she’d discovered the sword that Roux had pieced together, Annja had been physically tested again and again. As a result she was the fittest person she knew. But for some reason, it seemed as though her strength was deserting her thus far on the trip.
She yawned again.
Gregor chuckled. “I see we are boring our companion.” He fished around in one of his pockets and came out with a small flashlight. He scooted over to Annja and looked at her.
Annja frowned. “What?”
“I need to look into your eyes.”
“With that?” she asked.
Gregor held up the flashlight. “I’m afraid so. To check for concussion, which I know you have, but I wish to see if things are improving or not.”
“And the flashlight will help?”
He nodded. “Many times a concussion will result in your pupils not dilating properly. This was how you were earlier today when we find you. I am hoping to see this is better now that you have rested.”
“My head still hurts,” she said.
“And it probably will for some time. You took many nasty falls which may have left you with some bumps and bruises for a long time.”
“That flashlight’s not going to make my head feel any better,” she said.
Gregor sighed. “Please. It is just for a moment. I will not hold the light on you any longer than is absolutely necessary.”
“All right.” Annja brought her head forward. She felt Gregor’s left hand grasp her around the back of her head. She could feel the immense strength resonating from his hand. It almost pulsed as he touched her.
She heard the click and then her head exploded in pain as Gregor flashed the light into one eye and then the other. Tears ran down her cheeks.
The light vanished and Annja slumped forward, cradling her head. “Damn.”
“You are getting better,” Gregor said. “Sip some more of the tea.”
Annja wanted to throw up again, but fought back the rising bile in her throat. Instead, she took the tea and drank it slowly. The hot liquid flowed down her throat and seemed to settle her stomach.
“Thanks,” she mumbled.
“I am sorry I had to do that,” Gregor said.
“It’s okay.”
Gregor moved back to his seat and nodded to Bob.
“She will be okay tomorrow. But our pace must be less than it was today.”
“We should have no problem reaching Yakutsk by sometime tomorrow, anyway. We might have even done it today if that maniac with the truck hadn’t intervened.”
Gregor frowned. “Perhaps we will meet up with that person at some time in the future.”
Annja sipped some more tea. “And what will you do to him?”
Gregor’s smile was anything but friendly. “I will engage him in discussion about the error of his ways.”
The last vestiges of daylight had vanished as they talked. The deepening shadows of the forest seemed to reach toward the firelight like long, crooked fingers. Annja shivered as a breeze twisted around them, and the snowflakes stuck to her face before melting.
Far off in the distance, a howl punctured the serenity of the coming night. Gregor seemed unfazed by it. “Wolves,” he said simply.
“You have a lot of them around here?” Annja asked.
“Siberia is full of them,” Gregor said. “But they keep their distance. This time of year they are still not that hungry. If this was February, then we might have a problem. For now, no problem.”
“Small comfort,” Bob said. “That howl just brought back memories of those old horror movies