Going back to my ‘man’ look leaves a weird taste at the back of my mouth. Despite living like this for so long. Will I ever go back to being a woman?
“You done?”
A chill sneaks over me as Kirill comes into view. Gone are the glasses and the somewhat tamed look. He’s now back to being the unforgiving captain with nerves of steel.
“Almost.” I lower my head to focus on tying my combat boots.
My shoulder strains with the angle, and I wince.
Kirill lifts up my shoulders so that I’m standing. “I’ll do it.”
“There’s no need—”
“If you rip your stitches before we even leave, I’ll be the one who’s burdened. Stay still.”
I bite my lower lip to stop myself from hurling curses at him. It’s like he’s making it his mission to sound like an asshole. Though, it probably comes naturally.
Efficiently and in record time, he finishes tying the laces and rises to his full height.
“I’m going back,” I announce.
“You’rewhat?” I don’t miss the annoyance in his tone.
“I have to bid Nadia and Nicholas goodbye.”
“What part of ‘that’s an order’ do you not understand, soldier? We are not going back, and that’s final.”
“I won’t see them. I can’t, anyway, when I’m looking like this, but I can at least slip them a note of thanks.” I step closer, keeping my head up. “Not only did they help me, but they also helped you and offered you warmth and shelter from a deadly storm. How are you supposed to protect your soldiers if you can’t display gratitude to your benefactors?”
Kirill lifts his hand. “You little—”
I close my eyes, waiting for him to punch me for the insolence.
I wait and wait.
And wait…
But the impact doesn’t come.
When I open them again, he’s staring at me as if he wants to slash my throat open, but his hands are at either side of him.
“Five minutes, and then we leave.”
“Okay!” I jump, smiling, but it soon disappears when it’s faced with his complete apathy.
Damn tyrant.
I pick up my rifle and run in the direction of the house, thinking about the words I’ll scribble on the note.
Thank you for everything (minus the needles). If I have a chance, I’ll come again for those cooking lessons and—
My feet come to a halt when I arrive at the backyard. Silence.
Long, overbearing silence. No chopping of wood. No sound of Nadia’s voice.
It’s an eerie type of silence.
Something is wrong.