An Unlikely Companion

DISCLAIMER: This story may look long, but I promise you can read it in ten minutes. I wrote it for my Creative Writing class a month ago...

The barn was cold, dark, and damp, yet it offered the only refuge Katrina had found all day. Forcing the sliding barn door to close behind her, she threw herself onto an inviting pile of hay in the corner. Screaming, shouting, and footsteps were clearly audible through the cracks in the barn walls. St. Petersburg was in a state of distress, and Katrina had spent hours wandering the dangerous streets in an attempt to find a secure hiding place. Only this morning she had been warm and protected in her home, the Alexander Palace. Now she was wet and exhausted, forced mercilessly into the February cold. Katrina prayed that the angry rioters outside would not hurt those she cared about at the palace. The Romanov’s were more than simply the Royal Family to Katrina. They were her family, and she shuddered in fear at the thought of what could be happening to them. Katrina wept bitterly at the cruel fate that had encompassed her, burying her face in the stale hay. What was happening to her Russia? What was happening to her life?

A few hours later, dusk settled in, and the noises outside were reduced to an occasional yell. It seemed the majority of the rioters had finally decided to seek their own shelter for the night. Suddenly, Katrina was roused from her self-pitying, dreamlike state to the sounds of footsteps outside the barn door. She quietly pulled her cloak around her body, hiding her tear-stained face. She held her breath, hoping the person outside was a harmless farmer searching for a place to relieve himself before going to sleep. A moment passed, then another. Katrina began to breathe again. Maybe it had been her imagination, and no one was lurking outside the door. She slowly lifted up the edge of her cloak, in preparation to gaze through the darkness. At that exact moment, the barn door rolled opened loudly, and Katrina screamed.

The intruder was much quicker than Katrina had anticipated. Before she had a chance to cry for help, she found herself flat on her back with a hand covering her mouth. Her arms were pinned at her sides, and a heavy shape sat squarely on her chest. Struggling to breathe, Katrina attempted unsuccessfully to scream again.

“Quiet your mouth, woman,” a male voice hoarsely whispered in her ear. “Do you want them to come in here and find us both?” Despite her better judgment, Katrina stopped struggling. As terrified as she was of this individual, she fully realized a large group of men would be much worse. Katrina forced her body to relax, and her intruder climbed off of her and rolled next to her in the hay. Scared, yet somewhat curious, Katrina turned towards the individual who compromised her sanctuary. Sitting up, and gathering her cloak and rumpled skirts tightly around her small, shivering body, Katrina sat face to face with her new companion.

Moonlight shone through the dilapidated walls, and Katrina could see her intruder was a young man. He looked to be about her age, possibly 18 or 19 years old. His shoulder-length hair was dark brown, and his face was smeared with mud and other unidentifiable grime. His clothing was homemade and dirty. Suddenly very aware of her second-hand silk gown and embroidered bodice, Katrina pulled the cloak tighter around her. She looked back towards the face of the young man, only to discover a pair of piercing, deep blue eyes were staring right back at her. They were the most beautiful eyes Katrina had ever seen, and for a brief moment, Katrina forgot herself entirely.

The young man spoke, forcing Katrina back to reality. “Why’s a high-class lady like you hiding in a dirty barn? You afraid of what’s going on outside?” His Russian was oddly accented, and hinted poor education and rough lifestyle. Katrina quickly became annoyed, as this young man had intruded on her and was now questioning her. She jumped up in a shower of clothing and hay, and began pacing back and forth on the hard dirt floor.

“What am I doing here? You break into my hiding place, scare me half to death, assault me, and have the nerve to ask what I am doing here? I do not have to tell you anything! I would appreciate it if you would leave this place at once!” As she finished talking, Katrina turned back towards the pile of hay. The blue eyes were watching her again, and to her amazement, they seemed to sparkle with amusement. With exaggerated effort, the boy stood up, walked towards the door, and intentionally brushed past Katrina as he did so.

“Beg your pardon. I didn’t realize this was a barn for rich ladies only.” He had his hand on the door, and was about to slide it opened, when a series of gunshots exploded outside. Running footsteps, shouting, and more gunshots were all Katrina heard before she threw herself back into the pile of hay. Feeling movement beside her, Katrina realized the boy had jumped in beside her. She hated to admit it, but she was thankful for his presence.

Roughly thirty minutes passed. From her hiding place, Katrina deducted that the police were attempting to round up a group of the rioters. She believed – and hoped – that the gunfire was only a scare tactic. Cautiously lifting her head for the second time that evening, Katrina looked to where the boy had hidden himself. He was lying on top of the hay, fast asleep and generally unaware of the potential danger that lurked on the other side of the door. Katrina quietly moved closer, and prodded his sleeping side with her foot. Seeing he was beginning to rouse, she poked harder.

“Hey, hey! Boy! Wake up!” He yawned, opened his eyes, and looked directly at Katrina.

“I was sleeping.” He attempted to roll over, but Katrina refused to allow the conversation to end there. Things appeared to be quieting outside, and she wanted to know who he was.

“Wake up,” she loudly whispered. “Aren’t you worried they will come back?”

“No,” he replied, as he slowly sat up and faced her. “And if they do, I bet they’ll be lookin’ for you more than me.” He looked Katrina up and down, taking in her expensive gown, freshly-washed hair, and shoes. “Looks to me like you’ve more reason to hide than I do.”

Katrina hated to admit it, but the boy was right. It had been a well-known fact for years that the Russian people were dissatisfied with Tsar Nicholas II and his wife, Alexandra. The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand II in Serbia, and the resulting outbreak of the Great War, had only worsened the situation. The Russian people initially supported the Tsar’s decision to go to war in 1914. Now, three years later, millions of Russian soldiers were dead, and Nicholas was hated even more. Katrina had known Nicholas for her entire life, and met Alexandra in 1894. She believed the couple did not deserve the negativity forced upon them, yet she realized a long time ago that revolution was inevitable. Now that the moment had finally arrived, however, Katrina was more afraid than ever.

Busy with her own thoughts, Katrina did not realize the boy had started rummaging through his shirt pockets. Taking an interest in his actions, Katrina moved closer. “What are you doing there, boy?” she asked curiously.

He stopped rummaging, and pulled a partial loaf of bread from his shirt. Smiling proudly, he tore the loaf in half, and offered a piece Katrina. Realizing she had not eaten since the previous evening, she accepted the bread and smiling sheepishly. She was beginning to regret being so rude to him.

“If we’re stuck here together, miss, you might as well stop calling me ‘boy’,” he replied, in between bites. “The name’s Demitri. Demitri Fedorovich. Nice to meet you.” Katrina chewed the bread silently. Surely this boy was harmless. Holding out her hand, and forcing a smile, Katrina looked into his beautiful blue eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Demitri,” she said quietly. “My name is Katrina Alexandrovich, and you are welcome to share my hiding place for the evening.”

Demitri smiled, and returned to his bread. Ignoring her better judgment, Katrina moved closer, and the unlikely pair of young adults shared a meal of stale bread in a strange sort of comfortable silence.

It was some time later, while stretched out upon the hay, that the young pair attempted to have a real conversation.

“What brings you to a deserted barn in the middle of the night?” Katrina asked, turning towards him and propping herself up with an elbow. “You must be hiding from something.”

Demitri also turned, and assumed a similar position. He regarded her face carefully, and not without suspicion. He knew no more about this strange girl than she knew about him, and was unsure of how much information to give away. Deciding it was harmless to talk, he shrugged.

“I got caught up in the revolution, same as you, I guess. I was at work, and a big group of women walked by. They threw rocks at the windows, and yelled as us to come out and walk with them. Many of the men did.”

Katrina shook her head. Things must be more awful than she imagined.

“What did you do?” Katrina asked, feeling slightly ill at the thought of women yelling on the streets.

“I joined in,” Demitri said simply.

“Why?”

“I really had no choice.” Demitri sighed. “You don’t know what it’s like on the streets, Katrina. The poverty takes over a person. We can’t buy nothin’ anymore. People are starving, and dying.”

Katrina shook her head, refusing to believe his words. “That can’t be true! They said things were improving, that people were happier. They said the war brought the Russian people together again. They said…” Katrina stopped, and realized Demitri was watching her quizzically. Fearing she had inadvertently given away too much information, Katrina rolled over and turned her back to him.

A moment later, a hand rested lightly on her arm. From behind her, Demitri spoke quietly. He didn`t try to make her turn over and listen to him.

“So, you’re royalty, aren’t ya?” Demitri must have felt Katrina stiffen at the question, because he quickly removed his hand. A moment passed before he spoke again.

“Don`t worry, I won’t give you up. I knew the first moment I saw you that you were rich, or important, or somethin’. I promise to keep you safe, and won`t let anythin’ happen to you tonight.”

Katrina truly trusted this boy, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she liked him. Demitri seemed honest, and he was the only working-class person Katrina had met who had not scorned her for serving the Romanov’s. Feeling more comfortable, Katrina rolled over, desperate to share her story with someone. Who knew when it would be safe to speak of the Romanov’s openly again.

“I am not royalty, “she began, feeling it necessary to be honest. “I am… was a maid … to the Duchesses. However, I grew to be a friend, then a sister. My parents died when I was a little girl, and the Tsarina decided I should stay at the palace with the Royal Family. They are good to me… were good to me… oh dear, I don’t even know what’s happened to them!” Her last words flooded out in a torrent of emotion, and before she realized it, Katrina was sobbing. Demitri pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist as she cried. He gently rocked her back and forth, and whispered soothing words into her ear.

It must have been difficult to comfort her. Demitri despised the Romanov`s. He shared the frustration that most Russians did, and was relieved the poor were finally taking action. He was planning to join what was quickly becoming a revolution the following day, and was excited for the coming changes Russians would witness. Still, he felt for the tiny girl in his arms. She was so obviously distressed. Demitri slowly rocked Katrina back and forth, and after a time, she stopped crying.

Finally gaining control of her emotions, Katrina slid off Demitri`s lap and shyly avoided his eyes. She mumbled a quiet “thank you,” when he offered his sleeve as a makeshift handkerchief, and pretended to busy herself by reorganizing her skirts. Inwardly, Katrina was embarrassed by her reaction. Demitri had just disclosed that he was starving, and she was crying over nothing. What different lives they led! Suddenly exhausted, Katrina lay down and pulled her cloak over her body for warmth. A few moments passed, and Katrina remembered Demitri was dressed poorly. She hesitated for a moment, but despite her better judgement she raised her head and softly called to him through the darkness.

“You may share my cloak with me, if you like. I know you must be freezing.” There was a brief silence, followed by a rustling in the hay as Demitri settled behind her. He offered his arm as a pillow and the pair lay in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Time passed. Eventually, Demitri spoke through the dark.

“Katrina,” he ventured in the dark.

“Mmpphh,” was the almost incoherent reply.

“You`re the most beautiful woman I`ve ever met, and I`ll never forget you.” There was no response. After a moment, Demitri closed his eyes and stopped waiting for an answer. If Katrina was asleep, or simply would not respond, he would never know.

The sound of voices forced Katrina from sleep. Streams of daylight shone through the barn walls, indicating it was morning. Katrina sat up and stretched, painfully attempting to work the cramps out of her arms and legs. It took a moment before she realized she was alone. Scanning the barn with her eyes as she struggled to stand, a spot on the floor caught her attention. In the dirt, in front of the door, a message had been written. Katrina squinted to make out what it said.

“Sorry to leave without saying goodbye. Must find out what happens next. Good luck. Demitri.” Katrina sighed. He had left without waking her up to say goodbye. What had he gone to do? It was silly to think, even for a moment, that Demitri could have been anything more to her than a stranger in the night. These were times of war, revolution, and change, and he was fighting on the opposite side.

Rolling the barn door opened, she stepped into the busy street. She had no idea where she was going, yet knew she needed to keep moving. Russia was changing, and Katrina was determined to secure her future. She bravely walked down the street littered with sleeping bodies, garbage, and blood. Gradually, her silhouette disappeared against the early morning fog, and the next phase of her journey officially began.