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Blood and Moss
© 2013 by
Walt46 walt46
Art by
sethtriggs sethtriggs
Part Three
The sergeant and the corporal listened intently to Petya and Arkady as the two reported. A short distance away the sheep was being inexpertly butchered. When they had finished, Klyuchko slapped Arkady across the face with an open paw, eliciting a sharp yip from the younger man. “Idiot!” the sergeant hissed. “Your stupidity could give us away.”
“B-but – “
Another slap. “Did I give you permission to speak? Did I give you permission to even think? Our orders are to be as quiet as possible and draw as little attention to ourselves as possible – two! Two simple rules!” He held up two fingers for emphasis. “And here you two go and break both of them.”
Petya swallowed hard and asked, “Permission to speak, Sergeant?”
“Chto eto, Piotr Mikhailovich? It had better be good.”
“We both decided to steal the sheep, sir.”
“And?”
“You said we needed to forage – “
“But to stay quiet, eh?” Klyuchko glared balefully at the pair. “Did you at least cover your tracks?”
“Of course, sir!”
“Nu, you did that right, at least. Don’t think this is the end of this, you two. You two will eat after everyone else gets a crack at it.”
The pair’s tails drooped.
***
Two days later, Klyuchko stifled a groan as he turned over in his bedroll and sat up. The rainy weather they’d driven through was over, and although dense fog coiled around the trees and obscured their tops, the weather had turned fair and cold. The mist would likely burn off later in the day. The ground remained largely broken, making for slow going.
The wolf stretched and climbed out of his bedroll as Dmitri walked over. He thrust a steaming mug at the wolf as Klyuchko asked, “Anything to report? Spasibo,” and he warmed his paws on the slightly dented aluminum.
“No surprises in the night,” the boar said. “Arkady caught a brace of rabbits while on watch, so there’s a bit of rabbit stew for breakfast.” He grinned, his tusks gleaming.
Klyuchko grinned back. “I suppose I should tell him to stop trying to make amends, but he’s turning out to be a good hunter.” He got to his feet and took a long swallow of his tea.
And promptly made a face. “What the hell is this?” he demanded. “Tastes like ditch water.”
“The water came out of the river.”
“And did Oleg piss in it?”
“Have you seen the river?” Dmitri shrugged. “It looks like weak tea already. It’s not bad if you add a bit of this to it.” The boar slipped a flask from a pocket and added a measure to the mug. “Try it now.”
Klyuchko sipped, and raised an eyebrow at the man. “Brandy?”
“Though it might useful for chasing off the cold,” the boar replied, carefully deadpan. “You know, medicinal purposes.”
“You angling to become an officer, Dmitri Semyonovich?” The two started to laugh, the boar with a sour expression. Dmitri was considered a bit unreliable for officer’s material, the result of having had a fellow from the Pale marry into his family back when the great Ekaterina was Tsarina.
It didn’t matter to Viktor. Dmitri was a fine fellow.
The tea did, in fact, taste a bit better when spiked, and after getting his breakfast the sergeant waved his corporal over. “Any reports from the scouts, Sasha?”
The wolverine nodded. “The river’s wider than the maps say, Viktor. And Volodya got himself soaked trying to figure out how deep it is. So fording it’s out. It’ll only get wider as we get closer to the dam, you know.”
“I know. What I figure is this – we skirt the banks of the river until we reach the dam. We take our time and try not to draw attention to ourselves.”
“So Petya and Arkady – “
“Had better act like they’re at a Court garden party, or I’ll cut their tails off.”
Sasha grinned, and the two noncoms shared a chuckle before Viktor got seconds on his breakfast.
“Hey! Give that back!”
The shout caused ears to raise as Vasili made a grab at what one of his fellow Cossacks, Vanya, was holding in his paw. “Give that back, Ivan!”
The wolf held it just out of Vasili’s reach while looking at it with an amused expression. “Who are they, Vasili? Girlfriends?”
“Why, you – “
“Stop,” Sasha ordered. “Ivan, give me that.”
Ivan complied, muttering, “Just having some fun, is all.”
The wolverine scowled at the subordinate and looked at what he’d been given. It was a photograph depicting two lines of femmes, the ones on the right in dowdy frocks and the ones on the left wearing swimsuits.
It was difficult to tell if they had pretty faces.
They were all wearing gas masks.
“This a picture of your girlfriend, Vasili?” Sasha asked as others craned to look.
“Of course not,” the wolf said sullenly.
“Then – “
“My sister.”
Sasha blinked.
“Your sister?”
“Da. That one,” and Vasili pointed to the one leading the other swimsuited women.
“I see,” the wolverine said, although he didn’t. “Why are they dressed like that?” he asked as he gave the photo back to Vasili.
“She’s a nun.”
Sasha’s eyes widened. “Saint Anna?”
“Da, pravilno.”
The others nodded comprehension. The Order of Saint Anna was something new, founded in 1921 shortly after the Imperial government-in-exile had been established. The rabbit was known as The Defender for reputedly saving a trainload of children from a pursuing Red armored train.
Icons of Saint Anna, a long-handled hammer in the lepine’s paw, were prevalent around the western parts of Tsarist territory.
Sasha asked the obvious question.
“Why is she in a swimsuit, then?”
“She and her class are swimmers,” Vasili said proudly. “They’ll destroy Red invasion boats if they dare attack us. The others operate antiaircraft guns,” he added.
The Reds, of course, displayed open contempt for the “Warrior Nuns of Saint Anna,” and would broadcast hateful propaganda from Vladivostok calling the sisters everything from perverts to toys of the decadent aristocracy.
Any Vostokite who shared that view kept it firmly to themselves, for fear of getting a visit from the Imperial Religious Guardianship Service, or IROO.
The acronym, if sounded as a word, seemed appropriate for the members of what had been swiftly called the Wolves of the Church.
***
The river got wider as they headed west after breakfast, the forest on either side getting thicker. The undergrowth was all huge ferns and wild blackberry bushes, the bushes armed with thorns that tore at the riders’ trousers. Several of them polished their knowledge of invective as they pushed through the woods. It made for slow going, even on motorbikes.
Clancy Lake came up almost as a surprise, the river widening abruptly until the farther bank receded to almost a mile away. One small town could be seen on the opposite shore, and the north side was dotted with fishing camps that the Cossacks favored with a wide berth.
Several people did see them, though, but the Cossacks were wearing civilian clothes. They very likely weren’t recognized for what they were.
At least, Viktor hoped not.
The road they had crossed their first day came close to the lakeside, and they took advantage of it. It was a great deal smoother than bumping through the woods and they made better time until they reached the crest of a hill after a series of switchback curves.
From the hill crest the lake stretched off to their left, back to the river that fed it. Below them the road snaked down the hill to the dam itself, and across to a nearby town, while on the right water thundered from the dam’s spillway.
“Map says this is the Stillwater Dam,” Viktor remarked. He glanced around and noted a few areas adjacent to the road that had been shorn of trees.
Oddly circular areas, that looked like good sighting for mobile antiaircraft guns. He scrawled a quick note on a small pad with his pencil, sketching in the relative positions to the dam below.
“Looks like it’d be great for fishing,” Oleg, a usually taciturn wolf, added. A few of the others nodded.
“We might be catching something,” their sergeant said. He pointed. “Well, now - there’s something that should please the folks back home.”
In the distance, perhaps five miles away, thin smokestacks poked up above the trees. A clear-cut swath of forest marched from the power plant in the river gorge and off into the distance, marking where electrical lines went off to the south to feed the industrial area.
A snarl of engine, and Petya came up the hill from scouting ahead. The wolverine took off his goggles and exclaimed, “They speak Russian here!”
“You sure?” Sasha asked.
“Sure I’m sure, Corporal! The signs are in English and Russian – and another sign is advertising beer,” he added with a wistful look on his muzzle. The others started muttering, and one slapped another’s back.
Viktor waved for quiet. “We are not stopping for beer. We didn’t bring any money – and we’re not thieves, Petya.”
“There’s no other road, Sergeant,” the younger soldier said.
“Then we drive through slowly and politely. Anyone asks you what we’re doing, you say that we’re on a hunting trip.” Klyuchko shook his head before putting his goggles back on.
© 2013 by
Walt46 walt46Art by
sethtriggs sethtriggsPart Three
The sergeant and the corporal listened intently to Petya and Arkady as the two reported. A short distance away the sheep was being inexpertly butchered. When they had finished, Klyuchko slapped Arkady across the face with an open paw, eliciting a sharp yip from the younger man. “Idiot!” the sergeant hissed. “Your stupidity could give us away.”
“B-but – “
Another slap. “Did I give you permission to speak? Did I give you permission to even think? Our orders are to be as quiet as possible and draw as little attention to ourselves as possible – two! Two simple rules!” He held up two fingers for emphasis. “And here you two go and break both of them.”
Petya swallowed hard and asked, “Permission to speak, Sergeant?”
“Chto eto, Piotr Mikhailovich? It had better be good.”
“We both decided to steal the sheep, sir.”
“And?”
“You said we needed to forage – “
“But to stay quiet, eh?” Klyuchko glared balefully at the pair. “Did you at least cover your tracks?”
“Of course, sir!”
“Nu, you did that right, at least. Don’t think this is the end of this, you two. You two will eat after everyone else gets a crack at it.”
The pair’s tails drooped.
***
Two days later, Klyuchko stifled a groan as he turned over in his bedroll and sat up. The rainy weather they’d driven through was over, and although dense fog coiled around the trees and obscured their tops, the weather had turned fair and cold. The mist would likely burn off later in the day. The ground remained largely broken, making for slow going.
The wolf stretched and climbed out of his bedroll as Dmitri walked over. He thrust a steaming mug at the wolf as Klyuchko asked, “Anything to report? Spasibo,” and he warmed his paws on the slightly dented aluminum.
“No surprises in the night,” the boar said. “Arkady caught a brace of rabbits while on watch, so there’s a bit of rabbit stew for breakfast.” He grinned, his tusks gleaming.
Klyuchko grinned back. “I suppose I should tell him to stop trying to make amends, but he’s turning out to be a good hunter.” He got to his feet and took a long swallow of his tea.
And promptly made a face. “What the hell is this?” he demanded. “Tastes like ditch water.”
“The water came out of the river.”
“And did Oleg piss in it?”
“Have you seen the river?” Dmitri shrugged. “It looks like weak tea already. It’s not bad if you add a bit of this to it.” The boar slipped a flask from a pocket and added a measure to the mug. “Try it now.”
Klyuchko sipped, and raised an eyebrow at the man. “Brandy?”
“Though it might useful for chasing off the cold,” the boar replied, carefully deadpan. “You know, medicinal purposes.”
“You angling to become an officer, Dmitri Semyonovich?” The two started to laugh, the boar with a sour expression. Dmitri was considered a bit unreliable for officer’s material, the result of having had a fellow from the Pale marry into his family back when the great Ekaterina was Tsarina.
It didn’t matter to Viktor. Dmitri was a fine fellow.
The tea did, in fact, taste a bit better when spiked, and after getting his breakfast the sergeant waved his corporal over. “Any reports from the scouts, Sasha?”
The wolverine nodded. “The river’s wider than the maps say, Viktor. And Volodya got himself soaked trying to figure out how deep it is. So fording it’s out. It’ll only get wider as we get closer to the dam, you know.”
“I know. What I figure is this – we skirt the banks of the river until we reach the dam. We take our time and try not to draw attention to ourselves.”
“So Petya and Arkady – “
“Had better act like they’re at a Court garden party, or I’ll cut their tails off.”
Sasha grinned, and the two noncoms shared a chuckle before Viktor got seconds on his breakfast.
“Hey! Give that back!”
The shout caused ears to raise as Vasili made a grab at what one of his fellow Cossacks, Vanya, was holding in his paw. “Give that back, Ivan!”
The wolf held it just out of Vasili’s reach while looking at it with an amused expression. “Who are they, Vasili? Girlfriends?”
“Why, you – “
“Stop,” Sasha ordered. “Ivan, give me that.”
Ivan complied, muttering, “Just having some fun, is all.”
The wolverine scowled at the subordinate and looked at what he’d been given. It was a photograph depicting two lines of femmes, the ones on the right in dowdy frocks and the ones on the left wearing swimsuits.
It was difficult to tell if they had pretty faces.
They were all wearing gas masks.
“This a picture of your girlfriend, Vasili?” Sasha asked as others craned to look.
“Of course not,” the wolf said sullenly.
“Then – “
“My sister.”
Sasha blinked.
“Your sister?”
“Da. That one,” and Vasili pointed to the one leading the other swimsuited women.
“I see,” the wolverine said, although he didn’t. “Why are they dressed like that?” he asked as he gave the photo back to Vasili.
“She’s a nun.”
Sasha’s eyes widened. “Saint Anna?”
“Da, pravilno.”
The others nodded comprehension. The Order of Saint Anna was something new, founded in 1921 shortly after the Imperial government-in-exile had been established. The rabbit was known as The Defender for reputedly saving a trainload of children from a pursuing Red armored train.
Icons of Saint Anna, a long-handled hammer in the lepine’s paw, were prevalent around the western parts of Tsarist territory.
Sasha asked the obvious question.
“Why is she in a swimsuit, then?”
“She and her class are swimmers,” Vasili said proudly. “They’ll destroy Red invasion boats if they dare attack us. The others operate antiaircraft guns,” he added.
The Reds, of course, displayed open contempt for the “Warrior Nuns of Saint Anna,” and would broadcast hateful propaganda from Vladivostok calling the sisters everything from perverts to toys of the decadent aristocracy.
Any Vostokite who shared that view kept it firmly to themselves, for fear of getting a visit from the Imperial Religious Guardianship Service, or IROO.
The acronym, if sounded as a word, seemed appropriate for the members of what had been swiftly called the Wolves of the Church.
***
The river got wider as they headed west after breakfast, the forest on either side getting thicker. The undergrowth was all huge ferns and wild blackberry bushes, the bushes armed with thorns that tore at the riders’ trousers. Several of them polished their knowledge of invective as they pushed through the woods. It made for slow going, even on motorbikes.
Clancy Lake came up almost as a surprise, the river widening abruptly until the farther bank receded to almost a mile away. One small town could be seen on the opposite shore, and the north side was dotted with fishing camps that the Cossacks favored with a wide berth.
Several people did see them, though, but the Cossacks were wearing civilian clothes. They very likely weren’t recognized for what they were.
At least, Viktor hoped not.
The road they had crossed their first day came close to the lakeside, and they took advantage of it. It was a great deal smoother than bumping through the woods and they made better time until they reached the crest of a hill after a series of switchback curves.
From the hill crest the lake stretched off to their left, back to the river that fed it. Below them the road snaked down the hill to the dam itself, and across to a nearby town, while on the right water thundered from the dam’s spillway.
“Map says this is the Stillwater Dam,” Viktor remarked. He glanced around and noted a few areas adjacent to the road that had been shorn of trees.
Oddly circular areas, that looked like good sighting for mobile antiaircraft guns. He scrawled a quick note on a small pad with his pencil, sketching in the relative positions to the dam below.
“Looks like it’d be great for fishing,” Oleg, a usually taciturn wolf, added. A few of the others nodded.
“We might be catching something,” their sergeant said. He pointed. “Well, now - there’s something that should please the folks back home.”
In the distance, perhaps five miles away, thin smokestacks poked up above the trees. A clear-cut swath of forest marched from the power plant in the river gorge and off into the distance, marking where electrical lines went off to the south to feed the industrial area.
A snarl of engine, and Petya came up the hill from scouting ahead. The wolverine took off his goggles and exclaimed, “They speak Russian here!”
“You sure?” Sasha asked.
“Sure I’m sure, Corporal! The signs are in English and Russian – and another sign is advertising beer,” he added with a wistful look on his muzzle. The others started muttering, and one slapped another’s back.
Viktor waved for quiet. “We are not stopping for beer. We didn’t bring any money – and we’re not thieves, Petya.”
“There’s no other road, Sergeant,” the younger soldier said.
“Then we drive through slowly and politely. Anyone asks you what we’re doing, you say that we’re on a hunting trip.” Klyuchko shook his head before putting his goggles back on.
Category Artwork (Traditional) / Fantasy
Species Wolf
Size 700 x 484px
File Size 295.8 kB
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