work more, to make sure the trees are ready and the paper gets made. Otherwise he gets in trouble. It’s all in the plan, and we don’t want any trouble.’
‘Baba, will I work in the forest when I’m grown up? Is that in the plan?’
She laughed and wiped finger trails on her apron. ‘Well, Tolya, I don’t know. Maybe.’ Kind eyes crinkled under a frown.
‘That’s good. I like trees.’
‘Boy, it’s hard work. You’ve seen Papa when he gets home: he can hardly walk. You won’t have much time to like trees if you work in the forest. You’ll be cutting them up.’
‘But it’s good work, Baba?’
‘It’s work. But you … you’re different, Tolya. You’re not like your papa. With your drawing and your writing, and all that …’
‘But I could do it!’
‘I’m sure, I’m sure, my treasure,’ she said, smiling at him suddenly, the cracks in her face deepening. ‘But we’ll see. They’re moving people out here to help with the work. Outsiders, from Moscow, and out that way.’
‘Really? I’ve not seen any, Baba.’ Tolya was intrigued by the idea of outsiders: what did they look like? What did they smell like? What language did they speak? Would their children go to his school?
‘They don’t live in the villages. They are kept to themselves: they have their own camps.’
‘Our teacher told us about Pioneer camps, where children go for holidays if they’ve been very good. Are they like that?’
‘Something like that, son, something like that …’ Baba turned away and headed off back to the cottage, shaking her head. Tolya patted Lev on his soft, brown neck and tugged at his ears.
‘Hard work, Lev-chik, hard work is required! We will work hard, and Comrade Stalin will be pleased, and say thank you to us! We will make him proud. That’s what Papa does, and that’s what we will do.’ He looked around the yard with a critical eye. ‘Where’s the broom? There are leaves in the yard, and we must get them all! Every one! Not one leaf will be left!’ He grabbed the broom and darted around the yard, chasing down the leaves and pushing them into the black wooden bucket.
Dusk quilted the trees, blurring their outlines as Tolya waddled about, pretending the leaves were goats and he was herding them. Baba had lit a lamp and it glowed orange in the window, but still Tolya stayed out. He was bending down, talking to himself and stuffing handfuls of leaves into the bucket, when a crackling sound, close by in the trees, made him stop. Something heavy had moved. Between his legs, looking back towards the house, he could see Lev. The dog was no longer snuffling around the feed bin. Instead he stood rock still, ears clamped to his skull and tail tucked between his legs. He was staring past Tolya into the trees. The wind disappeared, and for a moment all there was in the world was silence, and the thud of his own heartbeat.
A snap shot into the air and the blood surged in Tolya’s veins. He swallowed and dropped the two fistfuls of leaves to the sodden earth. Lev churned out a growl. The wind blew a flapping sound into Tolya’s ears: like sheets on a line, or maybe wings.
With eyes squeezed shut he drew himself upright, fingers crossed like the boys had said. He began to pray to Stalin for help. Before he’d got a word out, Lev’s bark ricocheted off the trees, snapping Tolya’s eyes back open. He stared into the gloom, groping in the darkness, dreading to see, but unable to turn away. At any moment, he knew, moth boy, with the throbbing, hairy thorax and wavering antennae, would reach out for him. For a moment he saw nothing but leaves and clouds and shadows. Then, among the lower branches of the nearest pine, something stirred.
Floating in the darkness there was a face, sharp and pale, with black-ringed eyes that glowed like fireflies. A human face? Maybe … he could make out two arms, perhaps, or were they wings? They flapped against the figure’s sides as it hovered in the undergrowth. Tolya raised his chin. He should be brave. He should protect Baba. He was about to speak when he saw the figure was not looking at him at all: its eyes reflected the lamp, in the house. It was looking past him. It might not even have seen him. He took a step backwards, then another, and felt the wall of the well behind his heel. The creature did not react. He couldn’t go backwards all the way to the house. But if he turned and ran, it might give chase, swooping onto his neck with talons sharp as knives. What if it caught him, or worse, followed him in? He creased his eyes towards the cottage, face taut. The thing in the woods began flapping again, and a gurgle spewed from its mouth, somewhere between laughter and choking.
‘What are you?’ Tolya called out, his voice small and frightened against the wind.
It did not reply, but hunched down, almost hidden in the shadows.
‘You can’t hide! I’ve seen you! And … and I have a fierce dog! Baba will be out any minute. She knows about the old ways, and she won’t be scared! She’ll give you a good hiding!’
There was no reply. Tolya could see nothing, but Lev knew more, and a growl shuddered through him. A twig snapped not three metres from Tolya. He turned and fled, dashing on ship-wrecked legs back to the house as a tempest of barking filled his ears.
‘Baba, Baba, there’s something in the trees!’ He burst through the door. ‘A spirit! Moth boy! He’s flapping in the trees – I saw him!’
She was busy, knife in hand, a pile of bloody bones resting on the table in front of her. ‘What are you on about, boy? I’ve bones to boil, and you’re shrieking about spirits?’ A pot was already bubbling on the stove. ‘And look at this kindling – it won’t split itself!’ Baba jabbed her knife towards the stack of wood in the corner. ‘You and your stories—’
‘Really Baba, I really, really saw it! Look: Lev is still out there, he won’t come in! He’s growling at it. It’s in the trees! Look!’
He grabbed Baba’s arm and tugged her towards the window. She pulled away from his grip.
‘I see nothing, boy. Get the dog in. If he gets in the forest we won’t see him for a week.’
‘But he won’t come, Baba!’ cried Tolya, desperate. ‘Please!’
‘Akh!’ she spat, and grabbed up the lantern from the windowsill. Together they hurried out into the yard. ‘Lev! Come!’ shouted Baba, but the dog was at the gate, intent on the trees, still growling, ears back and dagger teeth shining. Baba made towards him with swift strides but stopped short at the well, head cocked to one side, sniffing the air.
‘It’s there, Baba!’ Tolya pointed into the darkness, where the eyes had glowed and the arm-wings had flapped. She said nothing, but held the lantern higher. Still Lev snarled, front paws coming off the ground in fierce jerks.
‘Show yourself!’ she bit out at last. ‘We know you’re there.’
Nothing stirred but the wind and the leaves.
‘No harm will come to you, that I promise. We are good folk.’
Tolya looked up at her, questions bubbling to his lips.
‘Hush!’ she commanded.
Lev growled, then split the dusk with a volley of barks.
In the darkness below the
