Daughters of the Night Sky

“I can’t argue with that.” I sighed, stretching out on the mattress, hoping the lumps would conform to my back over time. They seemed stubborn in their lumpiness, though. The room was drafty, and the entire house was even shoddier than our little cabin in Miass. It would be fine in the summer, but it was a miracle the family hadn’t frozen to death winters ago. But if the front hadn’t moved by winter, we would have problems far worse than drafty bedrooms to contend with.

“In the general’s defense,” I said, “he seemed more disappointed in our aircraft than the women crewing them.”

“Well, it’s certainly not our choice to be going up against proper fighters in dinky trainers.” Taisiya had pulled out her notepad and pencil. I couldn’t imagine anything about the room or our situation worth committing to paper, but scratching away seemed to soothe her. She hadn’t spent much time on the hobby in Chelyabinsk, being too devoted to her studies, but she’d taken it back up again in Engels. It calmed her more than reading or writing letters to Matvei, so I encouraged it. Though watching her fill the blank pages—she sometimes shared her sketches, little poems, and anecdotes, both tender and bitter—I felt my heart ache for the dewy afternoon in the meadow with Vanya, when he made his poetry with paints and canvas.

A knock sounded at the door, and Taisiya opened it to find the mistress of the house on the other side.

“Girls, will you come join us for tea and medovik?” Our host, Lina Utkina, was as sweet a woman as Russian soil ever saw and seemed genuinely pleased to have us with her. She could be no older than forty-five, but work and worry had aged her far past her years.

“You don’t need to go to the trouble, Comrade Utkina,” I said, sitting up and pulling my jacket straight. “We’ll be having dinner with our regiment before much longer.” Our mess hall was a row of tables set up under some trees, and we were just as happy for the meals in the great outdoors as we would have been for a proper refectory.

“It’s no trouble, my dears. And please, call me Lina.” She turned her back to us, leaving the door open. There was no polite refusal, though we hated for her to use her rations on us. We’d have to find a way to sneak her back some flour and eggs at the next opportunity.

“Come sit, ladies.” Pytor Utkin motioned to two empty seats at the scarred kitchen table. “We hope you will join us for our afternoon tea when you can. It’s a pleasure for us to have company since our Lev went off to fight.”

“Do you hear from him often?” Taisiya asked, smiling at Lina, who placed a massive portion of honeyed layer cake before her. Apparently she thought to feed us like the adolescent boy she pined for.

“Not often, no,” Lina admitted, placing a similarly gargantuan piece before me. “He was never fond of writing, though.”

“Do you know where he is, more or less?”

“They took him to Leningrad when the fighting broke out, and I expect that’s where he’ll stay until they break through the blockade,” Pytor said. “They’ll get through one way or another, mark my words.” He stared into his cup of tea for a moment, his face grim.

“Those poor people,” Lina clucked. “Prisoners in their own city.”

Taisiya and I exchanged glances. We hadn’t heard any real news from Leningrad in months. The propaganda posters reminded us that the blood of our brethren entombed in that city had to be avenged, but we didn’t know for certain what was left.

The cake before me looked as beautiful as any I’d seen before the war. The thin layers of cake and honeyed cream smelled as decadent as a perfumed bath. I took a bite, and while the cream and honey tasted sweet and smelled inviting, the cake itself was tough and ashy.

“The flour isn’t what it used to be,” Lina said, bowing her head briefly.

Color rose to my cheeks, and I was ashamed I hadn’t been able to conceal my distaste. “There are shortages of almost everything. We all have to sacrifice.”

“The tea is wonderful,” Taisiya added. She’d been more successful in hiding her disgust at the cake, always better at adopting a neutral expression than I was.

“It’s our pleasure to have anything to share with brave girls like you.”

“You’re kind to have us stay with you.” I stumbled on the words, knowing the choice wasn’t truly theirs.

“It’s a lovely turn of events,” Lina said. “The men fighting for us are brave and noble, but it’s much easier to house the two of you.”

“And you’re a far sight prettier to look at than the poor foot soldiers at the front,” Pytor said with a chuckle. “It’s not a usual path for a woman, though, is it?”

“We’re all called to help Mother Russia in whatever capacity we can,” Taisiya said, placing her cup back on the ridged wooden planks of the kitchen table.

“And we’re grateful to you,” Lina said quickly, fearing her husband’s flippant comment had caused offense.

“Yes, yes,” Pytor added. “I’d be in the fracas myself if they wanted me, but with a bad knee I’m not of much use.”