But they didn't spot us tucked away in the dark, shivering from the cold and clinging to each other like we were each other's lifelines.
Soon the forest quietened around us, the only sounds our rasping breaths.
"Mama?"
"Yes, baby."
"Where's Baba?"
I squeezed my eyes to hold back the sudden flood of emotion. "She'll find us," I said. "Don't worry, baby. She's fine."
Nikolai looked around, eyes darting around the dark. "I do not see her."
"No, you won't. She's not here. But she will be soon." I rubbed his back. "Mama needs to make a call."
"To Baba?"
"Cats don't have phones." I fished out my phone from my bag, fingers shaking from both anticipation and the cold. I had memorized the number to protect us both instead of saving it into my phone.
It rang.
And rang.
The beep sounded, indicating to leave a voice message. His familiar voice said, "You know what to do."
Nikolai lifted his head, eyeing the phone but amazingly didn't speak.
"Hey, it's me," I breathed after the tone. "Titus found us. I'm on the run. I don't know where..." I pressed a hand to my mouth, overwhelmed by the sudden emotion. There were so many things I wanted to say, wanted to express, but the words felt stuck in my throat. "If something happens, promise me you'll take care of him. Promise me." I ended the call.
Nikolai reached out and pressed his thumb to my cheek. "Mama, you're crying."
I was. Tears had begun to spill over my cheeks.
“I’m fine, Nikolai.” I held the phone out to him. “You need to look after this, okay, baby? Listen to me, this is very serious. You need to keep this with you at all times, yes?”
“Okay, Mama.”
“Okay?” I tucked the phone into his jacket, securing it in place. If they didn’t find me...they would find Nikolai. Oh God, please let them find my son before she does.
I brought Nikolai to my chest, his little head resting against my heart. Soot and dew stuck to his hair and dirt stained his shoes and pants. I tried to brush the earth off him, but it didn’t change the fact that both of us were still filthy and would be filthy for many days to come.
When my son fell asleep, his little arms clinging to me even in his dreams, I sorted through what we had. A bag filled with a phone and purse, food from the gas station, and the keys to the car we would no longer be needing. We didn’t have much cash but there wasn’t exactly an abundance of outlet malls in the woods we could spend it at.
The sound of rain grew heavier as the night wore on, the droplets breaking through our shelter until my hair was soaked. I undid my jacket and wrapped it over Nikolai, preventing as much water reaching him as possible but it left me shivering and covered in goosebumps.
Even as the sun rose on the horizon, golden light carefully creeping through the gaps in the trees, the rain did not falter. Worms wriggled happily above the ground, which led to a few of them being caught by mother birds trying to feed their hungry chicks.
A twig snapping echoed through the landscape, the sound distracting me from the rain momentarily.
I turned to the noise, my body readying itself to run and escape, but instead of a grievous monster waiting for me, Babushka stood. Her fur was matted and soaked, and blood coated her nose. When her beady eyes landed on me, she meowed loudly as if to say where the fuck have you been?
“Hey, Babushka,” I greeted. I would never admit it out loud, but I was so goddamn happy to see that bloody cat.
She slumped over to me, tail waving in agitation.
Careful not to disturb Nikolai, I opened a packet of food we had brought for her. She happily ate the little pebbles out of my hand.
“Why do you have blood on you?” I wondered and tried to rub her face, but she dodged out of the way, eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay. I won’t ask again.”
When the rain stopped, I jostled Nikolai gently. His little eyelids fluttered, before he grudgingly woke up. He rubbed his eyes, face scowling, before blinking up at me in confusion. “Mama?”
“I’m here, baby. Shh.”
“I am cold.”
“Me too. But we’re going to start walking now. And then you’ll warm up, yes?”
He shook his head. “I wanna go home.”
“I know. But we’re not.” I urged him to his feet, before stealing back my jumper. To try and console him, I opened a pack of jerky and bribed him with a piece.
Nikolai did look much happier munching on the meat stick.
The earth crunched beneath our feet as we wandered, the movement more to keep warm and Nikolai distracted than to any destination.
Where were we going? I wondered as I looked out into the forest. The collection of branches had never looked so intimidating as it did now.
We’re going to die out here, the thought came to me suddenly. Either from hypothermia or starvation or being eaten alive, we were going to die.
I looked down at my son. He walked beside me, jumping over logs and skipping around trees. I had to pull him down from climbing a few times, but he kept trying again and again. My son had gotten my wildness but had failed to have any of my common sense. Whereas I understood what was dangerous, Nikolai saw everything as fair game until he got hurt–and even then, he still couldn’t be convinced not to do something.
When he had just learned to walk, he had decided that climbing over the couch to the kitchen bench was his main goal. He must’ve seen Babushka make the leap and decided it didn’t look that hard. When I had spotted him, it had been too late and he’d crashed to the ground, landing awkwardly on his arm.
After a sob, band-aid and lots of kisses, Nikolai had decided he would simply try again. He hurt himself during the second attempt, as well.
There had even been a moment when I had carried him in my arms after the fall and almost said out loud, “What would your father say?” Because I knew if Konstantin had ever seen something so hilariously stupid yet courageous, he would’ve had a few things to say.
I didn’t say that, however, just gave him a bath and banned him from climbing over the couch.
How many times had I felt Konstantin’s presence in my home? Some days I’d woken up with the phantom feeling of his arms wrapped around me, and I often heard his voice in my ear when I was struggling to discipline Nikolai. Even though he was miles away, his imprint in my life had never lessened–and I had felt him with me every day I had been without him.
“Mama?” Nikolai’s little voice interrupted my thoughts. “My legs hurt.”
“Do they, baby? We’ll be stopping soon.”
A chilly wind rustled the leaves, causing both my son and I to shiver.
“I am cold.”
“It is cold,” I muttered, eyes searching the surrounding woods for some kind of makeshift shelter. When I spotted a dip in the ground, I took Nikolai’s hand and edged him over to it. “Curl up with Baba, Niko. Mama’s going to try and start a fire.”
I managed to start a fire by the grace of God, rubbing dry sticks together until my fingers ached and palms were worn. But warmth wasn’t the only thing we needed to survive. To get clean water I tied the plastic bag from the gas station to a branch, letting it fill with fresh rainwater. I rationed the food we had brought but it was a temporary solution–especially when I had a toddler who liked to eat.