The bread did not last, there simply wasn't enough of it.

Katya looked at what was left of her portion, then glanced at the ravenous eyes of her younger brother, Grishka, who was eyeing his sister's bread with a wild look of desperation.

"Here Grishka," Katya said, sliding the last sliver over to her 6-year-old brother, "you take it. I'm full."

Katya's mother smiled meekly at her eldest daughter's gesture, she knew the little girl was equally hungry.

None could remember what it was like to be full, to not desire food. Katya guessed it had been almost four months since the Germans closed off the city. It did not take long for food to become scarce.

The little boy greedily devoured the morsel of bread, then wet his finger to tidy up the small trail of crumbs it had made when Katya pushed it over to him.

"Grishka," his mother scolded him, "did you thank your sister?"

"Thank you," the boy grumbled, clearly wishing that Katya had given him the entire piece. His sister smiled at him anyway.

"You're welcome, Grishka," Katya chirped. She hopped down from her chair and helped her brother back over to the bed, as he was too feeble to get down from the chair on his own. Katya then scurried back to help her mother with her little sister, Svetla.

The little girl used to greet her older sister with an enthusiastic hug regularly, but now seldom found the strength to even look up whenever Katya would help her into the bed. She tucked her in, next to Grishka, who was already curled up in a ball, trying to conserve heat.

"Your turn, mama," Katya said to her approaching mother. "Hurry before you get too cold."

Katya glanced at the empty coal bucket next to the stove, wishing it had one or two pieces in it. Those had been used up just a few weeks ago, after her mother had carefully saved it for the coldest of winter nights. Tonight was not nearly so cold, but still the family huddled into the small bed, dressed in as many clothes as they could wear at once, hoping to stay warm through another night.

"The first thing I'm going to do when the Germans leave is build a big fire and cook a big meal for all of us," Katya declared to her mother as the woman eased in next to the children.

"That sounds nice," her mother said softly.

"When will the Germans go home?" Svetla asked, her voice brimming with an innocent ignorance of the continuing siege.

"I don't know, dear," her mother replied, trying to stifle what would inevitably devolve into a barrage of questions from the two younger children about the Germans, the explosions, why there was no food, why they had no coal and whether their father would come home.

Katya sensed her mother's exhaustion at the subject and quickly turned the conversation.

"Svetla," she chided, extending her arms toward her little sister, "you forgot to bring Tulya."

The little girl stretched from the tangle of arms in the bed to reach for the doll, pulling it in close to her chest as if to keep it warm. Katya climbed into the bed as well, facing her mother and sandwiching the two smaller children between herself and her mother, trying to conserve as much heat as possible.

Her mother wrapped her arms around her eldest daughter, wishing she could simply remain a little girl, free of the responsibilities of helping care for her family. She thought about the next trip for the rations, and the possibility that Katya would be the only one strong enough to make the trip to the warehouse to collect them.

Should her daughter retrieve the food, she thought, there was little chance of her making it home with it. The city had devolved into lawlessness, the spirit of compassion for a child driven away by the woeful pangs of hunger. There were reports of murders for ration cards, and she feared what might happen to Katya, wandering through the city of desperate, starving people with rations for four people.

When she was certain that Grishka and Svetla were sound asleep, she gently shook her eldest child awake.

"Katya," her mother whispered, "I have something to ask of you."

Katya shuddered awake, torn from a dream in which a feast had been prepared in her honor.

"Yes mother," she yawned. "What is it?"

"Katya," replied her mother, with a serious and almost dreadful look that the little girl was not accustomed to seeing. "Have you ever been to the lake?"

The question seemed so out of place, Katya answered aloud with her own question.

"The lake?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

Her mother scowled as Grishka shuffled from the noise. He did not wake, however.

"Lake Ladoga," her mother said. "When it is cold, it freezes solid enough to walk on."

Katya could not understand why her mother would pick this time to talk to her about a frozen lake. She squinted at her mother, trying to make sense of what she was saying.

"Katya, my angel, I must now ask something very important of you. Something that no child should have to do," her mother said, pausing to try to remain composed.

"There are no Germans on the other side of the lake," she explained. "There is food there. There are blankets and warm fires."

It was hard for Katya to remain focused on her mother's words, the flecks of imagined flames danced around in her mind. Her eyes were still fixed upon her mother's face, but she could no longer see her. The image of her mother was replaced with a world of bread, potatoes and meat unfolding in her mind.

"Katya," her mother whispered forcefully, drawing the girl's attention back to icy, dark room. "You must go there."

The words did not immediately hit their mark, Katya strained to understand what her mother was asking of her. Suddenly, a wave of panic overcame her as she thought of walking across a cold, lonely stretch of ice alone.

"Mama," she said breathlessly. "I can't go. I.."

Her mother's face suddenly changed from despair and sadness to a look of warmth, further confusing the child.

"My lisichka," she said. "You have grown up so much. I would not ask if I did not think you could do this."

"But mama," Katya protested, "what about you?"

Her mother paused, nearly explaining that the rest of the family was far too weak to attempt such a trip. She stopped herself, not wanting to discourage Katya from saving herself before it was too late.

"The food is good on the other side of the lake," her mother said. "You must bring some back for all of us."

"But the rations," the daughter continued, trying to build a logical case against leaving her family. Tears rose up in her eyes.

"I soon will not be able to go for the rations. We need good food to help us get strong again, not bread made from sawdust," replied the mother.

"You are still strong, Katya," she continued, "but it will not always be so. If you do not go now, you may not be able to go later."

The little girl could only sob lightly, the task seemed impossible. Her mother touched her face, resting a tear on her fingernail before gently wiping it away.

"Katya," her mother said, with sorrow also welling forth from her own eyes, yet with a broad smile as she tried to reassure both herself and her daughter. "You can do this."

The journey, more than 60 miles across the snowy wilderness and frozen lake, was one for the strong. She knew she could not make it herself, and she could not bear the thought of attempting it without all of her children. The other children were too small and frail, only Katya remained healthy enough to survive such a trip.

She tried to maintain a cheery demeanor, even as she thought about the true nature of her request. She did not intend for Katya to return. Katya would not be coming back, and the rest of her family would perish in the besieged city. The hope that one of her children would survive was the only thing that buoyed her from utter despair.

"We will prepare you for your journey tomorrow," she told her daughter. "You must get some rest now."

She ran her fingers through Katya's hair, caressing the girl to sleep, wishing that the family would wake the next morning to the end of this nightmare.

"Off to sleep now," her mother whispered, hoping her daughter did not see the gentle tears of agony streaming from her face.

The little girl nodded, though she found her mind racing through all of the dangers, real or imagined, of the trip. Sleep did not come easily, but eventually found her.

The next morning, she found that her mother had already risen, and was preparing clothes for her journey out into the frozen city. Katya was careful not to wake her siblings, she slid her arm from beneath Svetla and joined her mother.

"Mama," the girl asked, "is it far to the lake?"

"It is far enough, two, perhaps three days on foot to Vaganovo," her mother answered in droll voice, trying to keep her resolve about her choice. "You should cross the lake in a day. It is safe in Kobona on the other side.

"There you should find soldiers, people with food and a warm place to sleep."

She turned at smiled at Katya; the little girl was unaware how hollow the expression was.

"Do they have potatoes in Kobona?" Katya asked. "I should like to bring some back for Grishka."

"Potatoes, cheese, milk, even fruit," her mother lied. "Kobona is like what it was like here before the Germans came."

Her mother's voice was drained of all emotion, she instructed her daughter as if she were reading from a training manual. To do otherwise, to show her heartbreak, might clue the child in on the likelihood that she would never return home and she would certainly see none of them again.

The youngest children stirred in the bed, awoken by their shivering. The sun shone through the window where Katya stood peering out, while her mother busied herself trying to parcel out the food into fair, yet woefully inadequate portions.

"Katya!" both clamored, beckoning their older sister to bring her warmth back beneath the blankets.

"Tulya is cold," Svetla explained, holding out the doll and shaking it. "Please come warm us up."

The oldest child climbed back into bed as Grishka and Svetla jockeyed for the best spot to huddle against her. Katya did not notice her mother tearfully looking away from the scene, she knew it was the last time she would have the three of them together.

Katya ducked under the blankets with her brother and sister.

"Perhaps I should go to get Tulya something to eat," she said somewhat playfully.

"Tulya is so very hungry," Svetla answered. "She said she wants cheese and some pudding."

"Then I will go and get some for her," Katya said.

"Katya is going for food for all of us," their mother intoned from across the room. Svetla's eyes widened and she flung the blanket off the trio to see her sister more clearly.

"You are?!" she asked.

"Yes," Katya said. "I am going across the lake to bring us back some good food."

"Katya will be gone for a long time," her mother explained to the younger children. "The lake is far away."

"I want to go with you," Svetla bawled, vexed by the promise of good food and the thought of her older sister leaving her.

"You can't, Svetla," Katya said calmly. "It is much too far, and who will keep mama and Grishka warm?"

Svetla persisted, but was eventually convinced that only Katya would be going. Grishka did not protest his sister leaving or ask to go along, remembering the assignment of "man of the house" given to him by his mother a few months earlier when word was received that the children's father had been killed by the advancing Germans.

The children had not been told their father had died, such a blow might be too much to bear under the conditions. Instead, his mother continued to tout him as protector of the house in the absence of his father. Grishka took the assignment as seriously as a six-year-old could.

After the family ate their scant breakfast, Katya retrieved her clothes and piled them next to the table, ready for her mother to bundle her up for the journey.

"Mama!" Katya protested as her mother tried to pull on another piece of clothing. She already felt like she was wearing everything she owned, and found it difficult to move with so many layers of clothing on.

"You will need it, the winter nights are very cold," her mother warned.

"You look funny," Svetla giggled, pointing to the thick layers of clothing that made Katya's arms bulge out.

Once Katya was outfitted for her trek, her mother handed her a sack with a few small pieces of bread inside, and knelt down to hug her.

"Remember what I told you: follow the others to Vaganovo, then across the lake to Kobona," she said, tearfully embracing her child. She soon felt a small hand forcing its way between them.

"Here Katya," Svetla said, thrusting Tulya toward her sister. "Tulya said she wants to go, to make sure that you're safe."

She balked at the gesture, unsure what to tell her little sister.

"That's very nice of Tulya," her mother said, "but are you sure that Tulya will like being so far from her mama?"

"She likes Katya," Svetla explained. "And she said that Katya will need some help carrying all of the food."

The littlest child poked her sister repeatedly with the doll, Katya looked toward her mother to offer some logical reason for Svetla to keep her doll at home. Her mother was at a loss and only shrugged.

Both could see there was no persuading Svetla, Tulya must go along. Katya took the doll and carefully tucked it into the most inside layer of her clothing.

"I'll take good care of her, Svetla," she said. "I promise."

Her mother carefully choreographed the act of saying goodbye between the family. She did not want Katya to sense that she would not be returning, and that she would never see any of them again.

She soldiered out into the freezing morning, heading off in the direction her mother had directed her, without any real sense of where the lake was or how far it was.

Katya had not traveled far when a kindly older man overtook her on the walk along the snowy road. The pair trudged along in silence for a few moments, as Katya gazed in wonder at the beauty of the pine trees along the road, their limbs frosted white with fresh snow. Finally, the man spoke softly to the girl.

"Where is your mother, my child?" he asked. "I've watched you walking alone for some time now."

"She is in the city," Katya answered. "She asked me to go to the lake and cross over the ice."

The man seemed shocked by the response, and stretched out his hand toward the child.

"What is your name?"

"Ekaterina," Katya replied, giving her formal name. She couldn't remember the last time someone called her that, however.

"My name is Alexei," he said as Katya took his hand. "And if it suits you, Ekaterina, I should like to cross the ice with you."

Katya nodded. Alexei reminded her of her grandfather, and she was happy to have someone to journey with. After a few more questions regarding her family, Alexei quickly came to understand why Katya had been sent to the lake, but did not offer the motives of her mother to the child, for fear that the little girl would return home to die with the rest of her family. Instead, the pair chatted about the foods they would eat, or Katya would press the older man about the status of the Red Army and whether the Germans would soon be leaving.

"I cannot say," Alexei told the girl. "Our soldiers are brave, and they will beat the Germans soon."

When they reached the shore of Lake Ladoga, Alexei volunteered to help pull a makeshift sledge with some of the younger children in the group on it. Katya walked alongside him as they started across the ice, but found that the pace had quickened enough that she was having trouble keeping up.

"Go sit on the sledge," Alexei instructed. "We must cross the ice quickly."

Alexei's fears were soon proved to be warranted, the drone of German planes drew closer. There was no shelter from the guns on the frozen lake, the pilots strafed the refugees before continuing along to look for Soviet transports.

The group splintered, screaming in terror as chips of ice and snow were vaulted up from the frozen lake surface by the gunfire. There was nowhere to hide, only an instinctive sense to flee the scene.

After the planes had gone, Katya looked frantically for the kindly old man. She spotted him alone, a short distance from the others who had scattered during the attack. She started toward him, but the ice let forth a horrible groan.

"Stop!" he yelled to her, "The ice is not safe here. You must go back."

Katya inched away, careful not to take her eyes off the man who had been taking care of her for the past three days. He slid his feet cautiously along the ice, trying to survey the best path to safety. Deep gouges and craters caused by the gunfire wrecked the once smooth surface of the frozen lake. Katya could only watch as Alexei tried in vain to navigate across the fragile ice. It protested with awful cracking and shuddering as he moved along.

He disappeared in an instant, as the ice would tolerate his weight no longer. The water gurgled as it accepted its latest victim, his death would be sudden and painless. A woman who was traveling in the small group who had also witnessed the death of the kindly man placed her hand on Katya's shoulder. Both sank their heads low and did not speak, yet each understood the other.

Katya did not speak the rest of the journey, her mood only lightened as she saw a Red Army truck on the shore at Kobona, preparing to take supplies across the ice road. She ran toward the soldiers and leapt into the arms of the nearest one she could find. The young soldier was not ready to catch her, and both toppled into the snow.

"Sergeant Malenkov!" the soldier yelled, summoning his superior and hoping for guidance to remedy the situation. The sergeant angrily hopped out of the truck, unaware of why he was being beckoned.

"What is it?" he shouted as he stormed around the corner of the truck. The soldier lay in the snow with Katya clutching him around the neck. He gave Malenkov a look of helplessness, unsure about what to do about the young girl, though he was certain the tough sergeant would consider it some sort of infraction with an equally harsh punishment.

"Oh," Malenkov muttered, himself vacillating as to what to do. His tone softened as he looked at the little girl, not much older than his own, but horrifyingly thin and frail-looking. He reached down and extended his hand toward Katya, who at first seemed unwilling to let loose from the soldier.

"You're safe now," Malenkov said, trying to calm her. "Where are your parents?"

Katya looked up at the sergeant, convinced to answer only when she saw the compassionate look on the man's face.

"Mama is still in the city with my brother and sister," she answered. "Papa is fighting the Germans."

She took Malenkov's hand and rose to her feet.

"On your feet, soldier!" Malenkov barked to the private. The soldier bounced up from the snow and snapped himself rigid, awaiting some still cruel punishment.

"Finish up here," the sergeant barked. "I will go to get this girl something to eat."

As the pair walked away from the truck, Malenkov peppered her with questions about conditions in the city, the Germans, the trip across the ice, her family, and what unit her father had been in. Katya tried her best to answer them, all the while wanting to ask when she could go back. Finally, she sensed a pause in his questions.

"Where can I get some bread and cheese?" she asked. "I need to take food back for my family."

Malenkov frowned, he did not want to break the news to the child that she would not be permitted to return to the city until the siege had been broken. Only the army crossed the lake toward the city, civilians were barred from returning.

"Do you like chocolate?" he said, trying to change the subject. He knew what the response would be, and the price he would have to pay to get some, but posed the question nonetheless. Katya's eyes brightened and she smiled at the sergeant. She did not need to answer, he understood.

"Good," he said, "I know where we can get some." He directed her toward a building where some other soldiers were gathered. The price was steep, two entire packs of cigarettes, but the price had been worth it as he saw the pure joy on the girl's face as she nibbled at the candy. He imagined his own little girl, one he had not seen in months, smiling at the rare treat. Katya carefully saved a small chunk of it, despite her raging hunger, for her brother and sister, stuffing it into the small sack her mother had given her.

"Come, let's find you some place warm," Malenkov said, his heart nearly breaking as he realized what Katya was doing with the chocolate. He led her to a small building, asking her to sit with a middle-aged woman who asked her many of the same questions he had asked. The woman handed Malenkov some papers afterwards. He took Katya to a much larger building, set up for handling refugees from the city. He handed another woman the papers and knelt down next to the child.

"They will take good care of you here," he said. "It is warm and there is plenty of food. They will help you." Katya flung her arms around the gritty sergeant, who surprised himself by giving the little girl a warm embrace before bidding her goodbye.

The bed was little more than straw, but Katya was warmer than she had been in a long time, and soon drifted off into a deep sleep. When she woke, her first thought was returning to the city. She scurried over to one of the woman working at the shelter.

"Where can I find food to take back?" she asked, innocently, tugging on the woman's dress to get her attention.

"Back where?" the woman responded.

"I have to take back food for my family in the city," Katya said, annoyed that the woman did not seem to understand.

The woman reached down and touched Katya's face tenderly, caressing her cheek with her finger.

"You are brave," she explained to the young girl. "But there is no going back. The only ones who cross into the city are the soldiers with the supplies."

"But I promised..." Katya protested. She gritted her teeth to try to stop herself from crying.

"Your mother must be proud to have raised such a courageous little girl," the woman said, looking into Katya's tear-filled eyes.

"But for a child to return to the city," she paused, trying to reassure the girl, "it just is not permitted. You will be taken someplace safer, and can return when the Germans have gone."

Katya buried her face in the folds of the woman's dress, sobbing uncontrollably as she finally understood that her mother had always intended for Katya save herself from the cruel fate that would have awaited her in the city.

The next day, Katya was sent to Ufa, far from the war, to live with a family assigned to take care of her until she could safely be brought back to the city. She peered out the window of the train, thinking about how she would never see her mother, Grishka or Svetla again. She clutched Tulya, her sister's doll, tightly as the train rocked gently across the countryside.

Epilogue

In the lobby of hotel in St. Petersburg, the news report flickered on the screen of the television, though no one in particular was watching it. People shuffled across the room, chattering on cell phones, hauling suitcases and sending text messages regarding dinner plans. A lone man looked up as the latest story started:

"Authorities in Vaganovo remain puzzled as to the identity of an elderly woman found nearly frozen to death near the shore of Lake Ladoga. The woman, who appeared to be in her 80s, was found huddled against a building on the lake shore, tracks in the snow indicated that she had walked across the frozen lake surface. She was not carrying any form of identification, but was found with a small sack filled with bread, cheese and potatoes, and was clutching a tattered old doll..."