Photographer; Unknown

Photographer; Unknown

          Russia the days are cold the nights are even cold her. She had gone to Russia to help heal her mate. Instead she experienced the horrors of a life time. It was one night on the trail as they entered the den realm of the night had fallen. Dasha beds down with her companions. Markesh, one who she thought was Petrov and one who she thought was Lan. The woman closes her eyes to sleep.

It was a Russian white night. Her mother a true beauty of the snow leopard bagheera kinfolk. Her pale skin and white hair falling gracefully across her face as she holds a young child. Dasha as a girl around three years old. Across the room her papa sits in a large chair singing in a lovely baritone voice an old Russian lullaby to his new born son. Yackov. The snow and wind has come up suddenly as a Siberian storm rolls through the valley. Her father a dark haired man with a scruffy with white beard rather smallish for Russian standards sits rocking in the chair. Baby Yackov wailing with colic. Around their small house the howls of wolves begin. Papa jumps up setting Yackov in his bassinette and he turns to Dasha in a voice just above a whisper he speaks in Russian to her. "Dasha Luba, go down into the cubby as we have taught you. Stay there as long as you can do not make a sound. Not a peep. Do you understand Papa?"

The little girl nods her head and stands moving to gather up Yackov. Her father stops her. "No sweet child his crying will give you away. He must stay with Mama. She will hide him." He picks up his daughter and holds her to herself. "I love you my daughter. Now go hid." He hugs his daughter furiously and hands her to her mother who gives her a small locket of gold. The woman's tears spill on her child's face as she pulls her into a hug and kisses the girls golden brown hair. The she nods to her husband as he moves a stone from the fire place and a panel appears with steps leading down into the permafrost. She moves silently down the stairs and hides in a pile of yak hides and wool. from her position on the floor she can see through the cracks of the floor boards what is going on above. 4 men and a woman enter the house by rushing the door there is loud voices yelling and growling.

Her mother screams it is blood curdling. Then the thud a soft hollow sound as her mothers eye open appears over a knot in the floor blood begins seeping through the floors. Yackov wails continue. More scuffling more shouts growling all that horrid growling large black furred creatures can be seen through the floor boards. Snarling and snapping all the noise then another soft squish thud as her papa falls next to her mother. Some where in the scuffle Yakov quits crying. in the basement a Dasha is covered in blood even though she does not really now what it is. Then the silence that awful silence for three days. Not a sound does she make or  movement. Now the dream has become a nightly occurrence is Yackov dead or is he alive somewhere.