After breakfast, Jurekovitch led the way to the kitchen pantry. Far back on one of the highest shelves was an old sewing basket. Pulling it down, the man handed it to her.
"I need a few things mended as well. I will bring them to you. You might as well be useful for something."
"Something other than providing you with this house and the surrounding grounds?" Anya countered.
He blushed. Anya was amazed to see her barb had actually touched a nerve.
"Come! Back to your quarters with you. I will bring the mending to you later." Before he shut the door, Jurekovitch tossed her a barb of his own.
"The steamer should stop here before nightfall. We shall see if anyone really needs a spoiled child such as yourself."
He slammed the door shut. Shaking her head, Anya took the basket over to the hand made desk at the window. The light was good here. She did have some sewing to do. Her clothing looked too good, a matter she must address before leaving.
Within the basket she found thread and a few needles. Two of the needles she pushed through a scrap of cloth. Those would be going with her along with an almost full skein of sewing thread. The basket had an inside tray which lifted out. Anya found various scraps of cloth in the bottom of the basket. Someone may have been saving scraps in order to make a quilt.
No matter, they will come in handy. Anya thought as she took them out to look at them.
A very old pair of scissors, with bits of rust here and there on the blades caught her eye. They had been tucked in between two squares of dark material. A newer pair rested in the top tray of the basket, likely the replacement for the pair below. Who knew, they might come in handy. She would take the old pair, they probably would not be missed.
Beginning with the first dress, Anya cut the dress across the middle to make a skirt and blouse. She knew it would be shorter than it had been. That would be good. She folded over a drawstring casing along the waist of the skirt and stitched it down quickly. A thin strip of muslin made a makeshift drawstring.
Holding the skirt in front of her, she was happy to see her alterations pulled it up past ankle length. Anya made two slits from mid hip to the hem of the skirt on either side. Two triangular pieces of material stitched into the slits would give the skirt greater width. She sewed them on like patches. Running in the widened skirt would be vastly easier. It would work until she got something better.
A ruffle, loosely formed of several different pieces of cloth in the basket lengthened the bodice. She added a strip in the back for greater mobility. Everything was sewn together quickly with large stitches of varying colors. She wanted the clothing to look old, very used and repaired often.
She heard Jurekovitch fumbling with the door. Thankfully, he pulled the doorknob out too far. Anya heard it hit the floor in the hall. That gave her time to somewhat conceal her work under the petticoat she had been tearing strips from. Struggling into her coat, she used it as a makeshift dressing gown.
"Here! Do what you can with these. Hopefully you can sew." She took the clothing from him and laid it on top of her work.
"I will see what can be done."
"Good. Maybe it will even be wearable when you finish." He slammed the door, which bounced open again. The angry man shoved the door shut again and the latch caught in the doorframe. The square shaft was then thrust through from the other side.
By late evening, she had completed the alterations. As she was surveying her work, a woman, the cook perhaps, brought her some boiled cabbage with some sort of meat. So, he had not yet returned from meeting the steamer.
Anya wondered if she should simply leave. The cook might raise an alarm, but she might not get a better time to escape. The moon would be up soon and it was still light outside. Dressing quickly, she rolled all her bedding into a bundle with her other clothing in the middle. The other items she intended to take were also inside the roll of bedding.
There was no time to eat. Creeping down the stairs, she was trying to silently get to the front door when the cook appeared in the hall.
"Bressoff?" She inquired of Anya.
"Yes, Anya Bressoff." She replied to the woman in Russian.
"Come! Here through the back door." She looked at the bundle Anya carried. "He will search for you."
"He will not find me." Anya told her.
The old woman nodded her head. "We all owe your father, not the thief, Jurekovitch."
The cook opened the door and looked around carefully before motioning Anya outside.
"Go with God young Anya. Give our thanks to the Count when you see him."
The old woman shut the door. Anya quickly gathered up the things she had already hidden for the journey. In the barn, she wrapped the goatskin around the bundle of blankets which she secured tightly with the rope. The rope was knotted so the bundle could be slung over one shoulder and across her back. Anya slipped into the forest. Jurekovitch's prize disappeared.
In the forest the bugs were thicker. Anya wore her coat as it protected her arms and the thin leather dress gloves protected her hands from the mosquitoes. Moving quietly through the forest, she was careful not to disturb things in the event Jurekovitch was able to find someone who could track. As dismissive as he had been of the local native people, she doubted he would be able to find anyone.
Following the stream would be what he would expect her to do. Heading for the river was the only option. One could expect a city bred woman to try to go down stream, not upstream deeper into Siberia. She followed the general course of the water by following along the edge of the thicker foliage. Anyone traveling through the rocky streambed itself would be easily heard.
Anya kept to the right hand side of the stream. It would be a long walk upstream to the town of Yeniseysk. There she would book passage south, to the Ilim River. Then she would use the portage to the Lena. It was all there in her head. She could see the map, if she closed her eyes.
Her plan would be easy to carry out until she reached Yakutsk on the Lena River. Then things would become harder, for by that time winter would begin to freeze the rivers. Everything would become more difficult with the onset of winter. For now, she must take each day as it came.
When the stream finally made contact with the Yenisei, Anya retreated back into the fringes of the forest, which lined the banks of the river. Along the way she stopped to dig out some plants which she stuffed into the ends of her pack.
Anya began looking for a place to rest. Wishing she had a closed container, the young woman filled her tankard at a tiny brook, which emptied into the river.
Turning upstream, Anya followed the watercourse to a mound where she found a young spruce tree with branches that touched the ground. There was not much leaf litter under the small shelter formed by the hanging branches. It would make a good campsite.
There would be no fire tonight, no meal. She thought fleetingly of the boiled cabbage. Tomorrow would be soon enough to take care of those necessities. A night without food would not hurt her. Anya drank some water before wrapping herself up in the blankets. The goat skin pad was under her body. It would keep any dampness from the bedding. She used one of the muslin petticoats as a shield from bugs by draping it over her head. Anya finally slept.
Stiff and a bit sore, she stretched her muscles slowly before moving from her bedding. Her feet hurt from the city shoes. Boots were added to her small mental list of necessities to be purchased. With the knife, she pealed back the outer bark of the spruce. Anya dug out a section of inner bark. That combined with the wild onion she had spotted and dug up the day before, went into the tankard, her makeshift pot.
As she cleared an area beneath the tree of twigs and dry spruce needles, Anya reserved them for tinder. Digging down into the earth, she made a shallow depression. With the small twigs, dry spruce needles and a handful of dead birch leaves she collected, Anya made a fire. It was small, but hot. The branches above her diffused the smoke.
Thankfully, it had taken only one match to start the fire. The
matches must be conserved. Once the fire was burning well, she set the tankard as close as possible to the flames. The muslin petticoat became a potholder. As soon as the drink was hot, she removed the tankard from the flames to cool. A handful of green spruce needles went into the mixture to steep.
As Anya waited for the broth to cool, she mashed the green leaves of the second plant she had set aside. It had a slightly musky odor. She knew the smell would help to keep the insects from feasting on her as she travelled.
When the broth was cool and she had consumed all she wished, Anya used the small amount left to douse the fire, then scraped the earth back over the coals. That done, she rolled the bedding up with the goat hide on the outside for protection of the bedding itself. Leaving the shelter of the tree, Anya again started traveling up river.
In the afternoon of the second day there was the sound of ptarmigan in the brush ahead of her. Cautiously, she squatted down to peer through the brush before her. A small family with several half grown chicks was feeding. Two of the chicks were quite close to her.
Anya decided she would kill those two if at all possible. Backing quietly out of the place she had been concealed in, the young woman looked around for a large fallen branch. Discovering what she was looking for, Anya crept back to the place where she had seen the chicks. Her club was longer than she would have liked, but hopefully, would serve.
Slowly and quietly she eased her way forward, keeping the chicks in sight. The breeze was blowing down river carrying her scent away from her prey. The slight breeze covered any sounds she made. The chicks did not see her. The parent birds were busy feeding on fresh willow shoots. Fortunately, the adult birds had moved a short distance away from the chicks.
Squatting, she looked through the willow leaves checking the position of the birds. Anya waited for a moment, quite still in the middle of the willows. The parent birds moved just a few feet further away and she rose swiftly. Hitting the ptarmigan closest to her, she brought the first chick down then as the other tried to run, Anya bludgeoned it as well.
The male bird flew at her as she quickly gathered up both dead birds with one hand and stuffed them in her pockets.
"Now bird!" Waving the club at him as she retreated backward, Anya addressed the male who was screeching while trying to peck her. "Be still. You still have your mate and two other chicks. I have food. It is a good trade."
She gutted both chicks and washed out the cavities a little further up river. When she stopped for the evening, Anya began to cook her feast. Sharpened sticks were thrust through the carcasses, so she could roast them over the fire. Once the feathers were singed off, she tried to allow them to cool, but was too hungry to wait. She nearly burned her fingers while splitting the skin around their necks. It peeled off as one would take off a glove.
Anya bit into one and almost moaned in pleasure. Meat was good. Tonight she would sleep better than last with food in her belly. The ground beneath her bedding would be warm also. Once the fire burned out, she spread the dirt back over the coals. Anya lay her goatskin on top of the warm earth before she rolled into her blankets to sleep.
The top priority for her day would be finding food. It was her first thought on waking. There were wild onions in abundance and there was the second ptarmigan to eat. But the chick was small and it would not take her far.
Feeling she had put sufficient distance between herself and the estate, Anya began to think about camping in one place for a day. It would take her a day to make some tools to hunt with. Her immediate concern was some way to kill meat other than with a club or knife.
Once she got to Yeniseysk she would purchase an axe. Another thing to add to her growing list. The axe would enable her to make other tools more easily. It would also make building a fire less of a chore.
Now, hunting food was of primary importance. She needed a camp close to water and resources for making a throwing stick and spear. Quite conscious of the limited amount of time she had to get to Yakutsk due to the shortness of summer, Anya was reluctant to take even one day off from the journey.
Walking along the riverbank, she came to a somewhat sluggish stream which emptied into the river. There were quite a few willow trees and some black spruce clustered around either bank at the mouth of the creek.
A raven flew overhead and suddenly dove into the foliage to her right. Watching his flight, Anya decided to follow the bird. Moving up the streambed, she turned away from the river into the surrounding forest.
The creek drained a bog pool, which appeared to be the remains of a beaver pond. It was surrounded on three sides by a large thicket of berry bushes. Rabbit trails had created small tunnels through the tangle of thorny bushes, which were in flower. A small hummock with several birch trees on it would provide dry shelter for the evening. The surrounding willows would furnish materials for the items she needed to make.
After depositing her pack on the hummock, Anya chose some likely looking willow wands. She cut them from the main stem with her knife. The outside bark stripped off easily enough. Anya fashioned some simple snares from the tough bark.
Using a willow wand, she pushed the thorny berry bushes to one side so she could position her snares. The leather gloves protected her hands as she hung snares in front of the openings in the brambles. A rabbit or two would be welcome.
Another length of bark secured large willow pole between two small birch trees Additional willow branches formed a windbreak. Once a small fire was made in front of the windbreak, Anya would sleep comfortably through the night.
Anya went looking for a fairly straight, thick sapling or willow branch to make a shaft for her knife in order to use it as a spear. She chose a straight birch sapling, which was being crowded out by a spruce tree. It fit comfortably in her hand and once the bark was removed it would make a good spear shaft.
As much as she was using the knife, a second one and a means of sharpening them both were items she needed to acquire. The list grew again. She moved away from the pond back onto the higher ground where she her shelter for the night stood.
Her camp was screened from the pond itself by the berry bushes. If the breeze changed, the rabbits would be able to catch her scent. But Anya needed to be close enough to be able to reach her snares quickly, should she actually catch something. Hopefully, the breeze would continue blowing in its present direction.
After paring a strip of bark from the sapling, she scored the outer bark horizontally all the way around the trunk. Working the knifepoint under the section of bark from each side of the strip she had first pared, Anya pried loose the remaining semicircular section of bark. A segment at a time Anya pared and pried the bark from the wood.
Once she had the birch sapling debarked, it was time to make a fire. She wished to boil some tea from the inner bark and fire harden the spear as well. A good, hot fire would help her accomplish both tasks.
Putting the filled tankard near the flames to heat, she heard a small cry from the area of the berry bushes. It was the sound of a rabbit in trouble. Taking her new spear shaft along, Anya found one rabbit in a snare. Removing the dead animal from the thicket, she carried it to the river bank. There she slit its throat and skinned it, reserving the skull and brains in order to tan the hide. The offal went into the river so there would be no blood odor around her camp. Rabbit for dinner! Her stomach growled as if in response.
Later, as she prepared to sleep, Anya looked around her at her handiwork. There was a partially finished spear shaft she would complete on the following day, a rabbit skin fleshed and rolled. The skin was ready to be staked. It was a good start.
The forest surrounded her and the small fire warmed her while keeping the worst of the bugs at bay. The scent of the dead willow branches she had fed into the fire gave off a somewhat pungent, aroma. She felt a peace settle over her she had not felt for a very long time. This forest was so like her home. It was as if the island was calling to her. Anya now understood her father's love for Bressoff Island.
&nb
sp; Stanislaus sat in a chair, his head in his hands. Dmitri poured him a shot of whiskey. The Count stood next to the younger man with one hand on his shoulder.
"Take this and get it down." Bressoff handed the glass to the young man.
Without a sound, Rakov scrubbed his hands over his face. With a shake of his head, he reached for the glass. Stanislaus took a gulp and shook his head again. "I will not believe it until I see her body."
Dmitri found himself a glass and poured some of the liquor into it. "That is a confirmation we shall not get. And I agree with you, I am never going to believe she is dead somewhere in Russia."
"How did this all come to pass? Why didn't that overdressed, pompous little ocen, calling itself a man, protect her?" Stanislaus swallowed the remainder of his drink then held out the glass. "Another please?"
Without a word Dmitri filled it to the brim.
"The little turd she insisted on having for a husband could not fight his way out of a sack! What in the name of God, did she see in that arrogant, self serving excuse for a man?" Stanislaus tossed back a quarter of the shot.
Dmitri took a chair. "I am afraid it is worse than you can ever imagine."
Stanislaus looked at Dmitri. "Worse? How can it be worse?"
Dmitri pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. "I will explain, but first I must tell you, you and I are not to follow our first instincts here. Both of us have people depending on us. We are needed and neither of us needs to swing for the murder of Keetering."
"Dmitri! Tell me what is going on here! Damn it, I want to know!" Stanislaus struck the arm of the chair with one fist. The wood cracked beneath the blow.
"You will know! But I want the same from you as Camille insisted I give to her. If you go after him, I do not think I can stop myself from going with you."
Dmitri jumped from the chair and tossed down the balance of his whiskey. His boot heels stuck the floor sharply as he paced. "She was all I had left of my Anya. I want him dead. I want to watch him squirm before death takes him! It is not possible! I cannot and if I cannot, neither can you!"
Daughter of the Raven Page 12
