Irini walked Natalya out of the village and towards the outer woods. Even after her warning about how rural her father's place was, Natalya had still expected it to be closer than it was. Irini stopped on the edge of the tree line and pointed to a path up a small incline.

'Follow that path until you reach a clearing and a hill. He lives at the top. I'd take you myself, but I tire so easily-'

'Please don't worry,' assured Natalya, 'you've done more than enough for me.'

Irini chuckled. 'You're so like him. That's the most you've said to me the entire time you've been here.'

Natalya looked at the ground.

Irini reached out and squeezed her arm. 'You'll be fine. He'll soften eventually.'

Consenting to give only a small nod in goodbye, Natalya began her journey up the path. She didn't want to admit to Irini that she was nervous. If she did, she might be offended that it was because of her father. Viktor had warned Natalya that she wasn't supposed to be out this far, and she didn't want to get in trouble and be sent to Vorkuta.

Yakov.

Vorkuta.

Sasha.

Pikhtovka.

Micha.

Butyrka.

Ekaterina.

The bad thoughts endeavored to snowball into Natalya's fluttering heart. She breathed in the wonderful scent of the trees and tried to soothe her weary soul.

It didn't take her long to reach the clearing, though the incline veered up far more drastically. Smoke rose from the top of the hill, snaking into the sky in clean, winding ribbons. Natalya took a deep breath and began her climb. She trudged up the path and tried desperately to ignore her aching feet.

She had to stay optimistic. Irini had seemed kind; perhaps her father would be as well. She didn't even need him to be overtly friendly, just nice enough that he would put a roof over her head and let her work for him. But would anyone take in a filthy zechka; a stupid little criminal from a city almost a world away?

She wouldn't have taken anyone in if the shoe was on the other foot.

            A small, rickety house came into view. It looked exceedingly run down. There was a barn on the side of the hut, and a huge horse in a modest, makeshift paddock just beyond it.

Natalya's hope began to wane.

Why on earth would someone with so little take her in?

A man stood outside chopping logs. He wore older, more traditional clothing, covered in many patches of different fabrics, and a heavy outer jacket was slung on the pile of firewood to the side of him. His black beard was thick and full with defined grey streaks, his hair hidden by a fur hat. He must have been in his early sixties, but still seemed strong and athletic. When he saw her approach, he stopped what he was doing to watch her with interest.

Yakov.

He definitely had Eastern Siberian ancestry. His skin clung to the ancient copper colour, even darker than his daughter's. Brown, deep-set eyes, glared out under thick eyebrows. Medvedev definitely suited him. He was a grumpy old bear; a staryy medved.

Honestly, she had expected someone a little rough around the edges, but this man was neolithic. He matched the ancient trees that cloaked his grove, a strange power radiating from him. Natalya's fingers flexed as if to remind her this was real. Her nerves seemed to dissipate, leaving only awe to tingle across her skin.

'Yes?' he called, breaking the silence.

Natalya cleared her throat. 'Are you Yakov Ilyich Medvedev?'

He swung his axe so that it embedded in the big log before him, folding his arms across his barrel chest. 'Yes?'

Undeterred by his chilly disposition, Natalya took a deep breath for courage. 'My name is Natalya Dmitryevna.'

'So?'

'Your daughter Irini sent me. She said you might be able to help me?'

'With what?'

Natalya dug her papers out of her pocket and made to give them to him.

He held up his hand. 'No point. I don't read well.'

'I have been sent here to work, and I need a place to stay-'

'One of those convicts?' he cut across.

She didn't reply.

'And Irini sent you here?'

Natalya nodded.

He sighed irritably. 'I was looking for someone to help me with my carpentry. Do you happen to be a carpenter?'

'No, but-'

'Then you are of no use to me.'

Frowning at him, Natalya rocked back on her heel. 'And you were hoping that a carpenter would just happen to show up?'

He raised an indignant eyebrow. 'I was at least hoping for someone with a bit of muscle.'

'I'm stronger than I look.'

'I doubt that.'

'And a fast learner.'

His brow knotted further. 'So quick that you can learn a skilled trade within the first week?'

Natalya gritted her teeth.

'Thought so. Go back to the village, Natalya Dmitryevna.'

She kept in mind what Irini had said and cleared her throat, following him. 'You're limping.'

Yakov slung his coat over his shoulder. 'Good to know your eyes work.'

'I imagine it must be difficult to haul the logs from the woods that you need to carve. And then you must be tired from your day and find cooking a chore.'

He looked back at her. 'Oh... I must, must I?'

'At least I'm young and have proper use of both my legs. That's two things I have over you already.'

His expression softened ever so slightly. 'Quite a smart mouth you've got. Would've expected you'd be a bit more contrite seeing as you're a zechka asking for a job.'

Natalya stood straighter. 'Being contrite isn't going to help me survive out here in this wilderness now, is it?'

'No, it certainly won't.' His gaze turned to her boots. 'What on earth are those on your feet?'

'The sturdiest shoes I have. I don't have much use for anything more in Moscow.'

'Lady of luxury?'

'Seamstress,' she replied. 'I don't go out all that much.' Another pause. 'Irini is worried about you. She said you promised to take someone on-'

'I know what I said to my own daughter,' he interrupted.

'Then surely this is the best way to appease her without having some mudak come and take over your work entirely?'

He assessed her again. 'Are you going to tell me why you were sent here?'

'Probably not,' she said, their gaze locked.

A light breeze swirled through the grove in a sudden rush, Yakov turning his nose to follow it as it swept away. He placed his hand over his heart, his eyes closed for a brief moment.

What a strange man he was.

Regaining himself, Yakov kicked his front door open. 'Later, we will go to the village, and get you better shoes.'

In shock, Natalya simply stood and watched him walk into the house with difficulty.

'Well come on then!' he barked over his shoulder.

As if held captive, her heart finally sparked to life in her chest. Suddenly she could feel her toes again, her fingers, her lips, her ears. It was a genuine moment of life handed to her by a benevolent new benefactor. Smiling, she hurried after Yakov into the hut.

'No need to look so pleased with yourself. I'll work you hard.'

Natalya set her bag down as she surveyed the space. It was just one small room, all of the furniture wooden and sturdy. His own work, she presumed. It did mean that the fire's warmth filled the entire shack, so she was grateful for that. The fireplace took up nearly one wall, a pot hung over the fire. That must be the kitchen. There was a ladder that led up to a small loft, just big enough to fit his bed. It was like she had stepped into a story book.

There were strange talismans dangling from old leather strings. They were mainly intricate wooden bears, hanging from different points of entry in the hut and over the hearth. Every single one varied in size, length and colour, each unique to their secret purpose. Some had small animal bones tied crudely into the plaits, others sharp teeth swinging at the end, adorned with beautiful wooden beads. She wanted to look at them more closely but thought it best to wait.

He pointed to the floor. 'You can sleep by the fire. I've another sheepskin you can use.'

'Thank you,' she said earnestly.

'I won't be able to pay you,' he continued, 'especially as you don't actually know what you're doing. But I'll feed you.'

'I'm grateful for anything.'

He cocked his head to the side. 'I preferred it when your wit was sharp.'

'All I said was thank you!'

'Yes, yes,' he muttered, sitting in his chair by the fire. There wasn't another one. He sighed, reaching behind him for an old tatty cushion before he chucked it on the floor. When she didn't move, he gestured to it in invitation.

Natalya sat down and held her hands up to the flames. The heat washed over her, dancing across her frozen cheeks.

'By all means,' he said sardonically, 'just make yourself at home.'

Her eyes flicked to his. 'I thought it better to just carry on. What if I said thank you again, and you threw me out.'

Yakov stretched his legs out, letting out a small, pained hum. 'When did you last eat?'

'Irini gave me some bread-'

He focused his gaze on her, sitting forward with a creak from his chair. 'I mean properly... a nice hot meal.'

'A few weeks ago.' 

'There's stew in that pot. Why don't you get us both a bowl?'

Two wooden bowls and spoons sat on a small table not far away. She noted that one was smaller and daintier than the other as she came back over and began to dish up. His wife's perhaps? Whomever it belonged to, they weren't here now.

Natalya ladled the stew into the bowls.

Yakov tutted. 'Food has to stretch here.'

She nodded and put some back until he seemed satisfied. Handing him his, she pulled her knees to her chest, and rested her bowl on top. The heat felt wonderful. It seemed to just be potatoes and cabbages, but she smelled garlic and paprika also. When was the last time she had had anything this nice? Setting down her spoon, she placed the bowl to her lips and began to sip it slowly.

Her head buzzed with excitement. She had to pace herself so that she savoured it. Her eyes watered with relief, her stomach growling with contentment. It tasted just like the soup her grandmother would make whenever she felt poorly.

Thoughts of Ekaterina seemed too painful. She needed a distraction.

'What are all these?' She pointed at the talismans.

His eyes narrowed. 'What do you think they are?'

'Talismans?'

'There you have it then.' He certainly wasn't forthcoming with information.

'What do they mean?' she pressed.

Yakov let out a long sigh, looked her up and down, then simply went back to his stew. She'd have to try again later.

When they had both finished, he used a little water to rinse the bowls, then dried them and set them back on the table. Natalya watched closely so she could replicate it.

'I collect water from a nearby stream,' he explained. 'You can do that from now on. And tend the vegetables. I can only get certain things to grow, but I forage mushrooms in the forest and hunt when I can.'

Natalya tried her best to seem at ease with it all, but in reality, she had no idea how to do any of it.

'Irini gets me flour for bread. Do you make bread?'

'I can learn to make bread.'

Yakov leant against the table, his heavy gaze turned on her. 'Can you do anything useful?'

She shifted to stand a little taller. 'As I said, I'm a seamstress-'

'Do I look as though I need one of those?'

Natalya looked over his clothes. 'Yes.'

They stared at each other, Yakov now seemingly amused. 'When I teach you, you will listen.'

'Of course,' she said, then added, 'and will you actually tell me things? Or just grunt?' Natalya was sure she saw a small hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth as he began rooting in a trunk by the door.

'And you're certain you'd rather work here than the village?' His words were muffled and almost teasing.

'Absolutely. Anything that keeps me far away from that Avgust.'

He stopped rummaging, looking over his shoulder at her. 'You dislike him?'

'As much as he dislikes me.'

Yakov nodded lightly as he stood up and hung a woven cord around his neck. Another little bear adorned it. It was odd. It looked far too delicate for him.

'Well that certainly works in your favour,' Yakov said, interrupting her perusing. He brushed past her and pulled on his scarf. 'Come along, let's go to the village and get you better boots. Then I can show you the basic things I need from you.'

Natalya followed suit, her coat in place before she pulled out her paperwork again. 'Can you sign this? And the copy they have in town.'

He glared at it as he tugged on his coat. 'Why?'

'I work for you now, I need proof of that.'

'I don't sign things.'

Now it was Natalya who huffed in frustration. 'I need you to sign it, or they will class me as a runaway. I'm not supposed to come out this far.'

There was a long, eery silence. 'I assume that threat came from Avgust Georgievich?'

'He'll have me sent to Vorkuta if I try to run.'

'Svolotsch',' he muttered.

There was another long pause. Natalya shifted from foot to foot, clutching her coat tight around her. Somehow, the room felt far colder.

'Come on.' He took an axe from a hook on the wall, and stormed out of the door, Natalya immediately following suit.

Natalya kept pace beside Yakov as they walked down to the village. Despite his limp, he was strangely fast. What might he have been like in his youth? Probably a fearsome sight to behold and probably just as grumpy. Her gaze though, was focused on the weapon in his hand. At first, she had thought it must just be a habit. But surely, he'd have tucked it into his belt if this were so. Instead his grip on the handle was tight, his knuckles white.

They were met with surprised stares as they trudged towards the village hall. Yakov gave a grunt every now and then, as if to ward them off. Natalya enjoyed the degree of safety his presence provided. Clearly, he was not a man to be trifled with.

Yakov pushed through the doors of the hall, tugging Natalya in beside him.

Avgust and the clerk looked up in surprise from behind a small, yet strangely ornate desk. 'Yakov Illyich?' gasped Avgust. He looked immediately rattled. Good. 'Last time I saw you in this building you were handing over that desk-'

'Normally I'd have no business here with you,' interrupted Yakov. 'I'm told I need to declare that I've agreed to take this one on.' He pointed at Natalya who stepped out from behind him.

Avgust choked out a startled laugh. 'You're toying with me-'

Yakov's hard stare didn't drop, but his grip on his axe tightened further. 'Why would I do that?'

'Why would you take her in? She's no bigger than a child!'

Natalya made to rebuttal but Yakov cut across. 'She assures me she is stronger than she looks.'

'And you believe this zechka?' Avgust spat the word at her, as though to drive filth from his mouth.

'She's more forthright than all of you.' Yakov held his hand out to Natalya for her papers. She gave them to him obligingly, happy to show Avgust that Yakov held her in at least some regard. 'So let me sign my name and be done with it.'

Avgust grinned. 'My, my. What would Lavra say to you having a new woman up there?'

Yakov clenched his fist tighter on his axe. 'Mention my wife's name again, and I will smash your head into the desk I made.'

Those were not empty words. Natalya shuddered at the venom behind them.

'It was in jest,' began Avgust, but noted Yakov's glare. 'Very well.' He rooted through a wad of papers.

The air was rife with tension, Natalya ill at ease. This was all too familiar to her. It was like being at home with Sasha.

Natalya cleared her throat so that Yakov looked at her, eager to break the quiet. 'Thank you, again. I know you don't seem to like my thanks, but you have it.'

He gave her a simple nod, then turned back to Avgust.

Avgust eyed their exchange suspiciously. 'You know she's not to leave here.'

'Yes, I know.'

'If she does run away, you'll be held responsible.' Avgust attempted some feigned authority. It held no weight.

Yakov was unfazed. 'She won't run away.'

'Oh no?'

'No. Up at my cabin, she's not stuck with the likes of you.'

Natalya stifled a surprised laugh, her hand clamped over her mouth. Yakov really did have the measure of everyone.

Avgust glared impotently at Yakov. He definitely seemed afraid, no matter how annoyed he was. 'She can't go on your trips to town.'

'She'll not go anywhere without me,' promised Yakov. 'And when I'm away, she'll stay at home.'

'Oh, it's home for her already is it?' said Avgust with a smug grin. 'How welcoming you are, Yakov. You're right, I'm sure Lavra would be happy that you have moved on.'

Silence ensued, Avgust now avoiding Yakov's scowl as the wild man stepped towards him, axe at the ready.

Natalya held her breath. Would Yakov actually hurt him? 

He lent in close to Avgust, his eyes narrowed. 'Is that what I'm signing?' Yakov pointed at the paper.

Avgust gulped. 'Yes.'

Grabbing a pencil from the desk, Yakov scrawled his name on the papers, then shoved one back into Avgust's grip and the other into Natalya's, knocking her back a few paces. He seemed momentarily concerned that he had hurt her, but Natalya made sure to regain her composure quickly. Satisfied, Yakov paused, looking at Avgust. Quickly, he switched his axe to his other hand and drew his free fist in the air.

Immediately, Avgust flinched without Yakov doing anything.

Yakov let out a small, huffy laugh as he set his hand down. 'You always were a .' He looked to Natalya. 'Come on, then.'

Natalya shot Avgust a grin before she ran after Yakov.

They stepped out into the village, Yakov clearly trying to keep his temper as he turned back to look at Natalya. 'Get boots from the small shop down there. How much shall I give you?'

'No need,' she said hurriedly. 'I can pay for them.'

He gave his expected nod. 'I'll be with my daughter when you're done.'

Natalya said nothing, simply doing as she was bid. She trudged towards the shop, pondering what had just happened. Avgust clearly despised Yakov, and the feeling was entirely mutual. She wondered why he had felt the need to bring Yakov's wife into the conversation. Irini was right; Yakov was very touchy on the subject.

The boots that the shop had were old, and far more tatty than her current pair, but this way, she could at least let her own pair dry out and save her feet. She brought a few things to make another stew with. It was the only thing she could think of to say thank you to her new benefactor. Contented, she slung the sack of items over her back, and made her way to Irini's.

It was Yakov who answered the door.

The old man looked down on her curiously as his arms folded across his chest. 'I said get boots.'

Natalya remained determined. 'I also got some things for a stew. I wanted to cook you a meal.'

'We have vegetables already.'

She stood her ground. 'Yes, but this is from me to you. And I bought some bread for Irini, to say thank you.'

'That's very sweet of you,' called his daughter's voice. 'Do come in, won't you?'

'No time,' insisted Yakov. 'Just give her the bread now, I have to show you around.'

Natalya nodded, retrieving the bread as Irini appeared at the door.

'Thank you,' said Irini warmly. 'And pay no attention to my father. He is simply wound up because of Avgust.'

'So I see,' said Natalya as Yakov stayed stone faced.

Irini took it, smiling at her before she turned to her father. 'Be nice, won't you?'

His entire expression softened. Irini hugged him as best she could and pecked his cheek. His arms stayed encased around her, the old man placing a gentle kiss on her head.

Natalya looked away as her heart panged with jealousy. She missed her grandmother so terribly and she was sure she had ever had her own father look at her that way.

Yakov cleared his throat and drew back from his daughter. 'Take care.' He set off towards his home, clearly expecting Natalya to go after him. She waved goodbye to Irini and followed him.