East Bound - Russia x Germany

I Sing on the New Lands

I was at the peak of boredom. As the lack of work made me spiral back into my thoughts, I kept wondering about my companions that I left behind. I was now regretting everything tenfold, kept checking the maps to see where we were, and confided in some of the crew for help.

"How long," it was one foggy and forgettable day at sea, talking to Lësha, the lead engineer. "Would you say it will take to hitchhike across the Sakha Republic and to Pevek?"

He looked at me like I was joking. "Honestly, no idea. Probably around five-six weeks or so. If we're talking at this time of year, I'd say good riddance to those who don't even make it out."

My blood went cold. "What do you mean, don't make it out?"

"How do you see hitchhiking here? Yes, the people here are exceptionally nice, but the resources are limited to all terrain vehicles, sleds, and icebreakers. Normal people only have access to the more rudimentary forms of travel." He eyed me warily. "You're not thinking of...being a hitchhiker here, are you?"

"No, no! Of course not," I said a bit too hurriedly. "I'm just asking..."

"...for a friend?" He finished.

It was as if he read my mind. "Yeah, actually."

"Well tell your friend, don't hitchhike during the colder months. It gets brutal, and without professional equipment, you can freeze." He was eating a stale pack of Solomka, very thin bread sticks that were salty and sweet. "Dont go being stupid like that." He said while breaking off pieces.

All I could think was how Russia fit his phrase perfectly. "As you said. It's for a friend."

"Alright," he wasn't entirely assured by my shiny smile. "If you say so." I watch him dip the sticks into tea, painfully slowly drain the liquid, and eat them, so I dismissed myself quickly before he raised objections or offered me some food. I made way into my compartment and plopped into the bed. The room already imposed the messy, almost listless, and carefree style that I possessed. A bunch of papers, my laptop, miscellaneous silverware I had a habit of taking and never returning, and the my coat all occupied a corner of the room. I had asked Lësha for another one, because every time I wore my own, it would bring the painful knowing feeling that it was Russia's and he was far, far away. I miss being his friend. I wish I wasn't so flighty and flaky. I wish I had a strong grounding that helped me make reasonable, logical, and calm decisions during an onslaught of panic. I wish, I wish, I wish...that I didn't have to dream about who I want to be. I wish that who I am is who I dream of becoming. I lifted my hand up in front of my eyes, waving it through the air. I should have eaten. Lësha's coat was far from go of fitting. It was too short in the arms, hastily resown at broken seams, and was a sea fog grey colour. Once we dock at the New Lands, I need to head straight back down to the nearest village I can find and then...what? I don't know yet. The now almost soothing sway of the icebreaker put me to sleep still in my jacket that smelled of tar.

My sleep was dreamless till the end. I surfaced back into a lighter sleep for the onslaught of strange imagery to capture me. Strangely enough, I dreamt that I was in a tropical rainforest, the trees swaying in the moist and hot air. Although I was in the shade, it was disturbingly hot, and my skin felt alive and writhing. The soil beneath me was spongy and wet like a day after the rainstorm came. I relished for coolness, but the breeze blew more warm air to me. It was like being in a jar full of hot mashed tomatoes. Sticky, moist, unbearable. I heard a distant knock somewhere, like the rapping of wood against metal. Although it was becoming slightly louder....

"Tourist!" Someone yelled from behind my door. So it wasn't a dream after all. "Did you freeze in there or something?"

"Hilarious," I growled, taking off my jacket. That's why I was sweltering and dreaming of being wet. My whole body was drenched in sweat. I opened the door to a hairline crack. "Yes?"