East Bound - Russia x Germany

Goodbye Cherskii...For Now.

We were leaving Cherskii. After a three day lapse, we had to move on. I felt it in my bones that we'd be ousted out if we didn't willingly leave. Well, if Germania, Polsha, and I didn't. Rossiya was welcome to keep on with his military career. But he decided to leave just as I put forward the idea. We reasoned that much of the stuff we took wouldn't be needed, such as canned food, provided we were to travel by all terrain vehicle rather than by dog sled, which was much faster. I was waiting outside as the first snowflakes of the year drifted down onto my hat, watching Rossiya and Polsha struggle to lift things into the truck. It was mostly my yurt supplies and trunks. I pet one of my dog's ears affectionately.

"We only have a bit more," I told it. "Pevek."

"Arf," the dog barked, pricking it's ears.

"Pevek isn't your average northern village," I kept on. "It's a big big city with many people like Rossiya and Polsha. It's a gold miners town." At the moment I stopped, since Germania was right next to me. I did not want him to listen to me talk to my dogs.

"Hi." He said, his German accent coming out very profoundly.

"Hello." I sighed.

"Is..something wrong?"

"No. I am glad that we will be in Pevek soon."

"Pevek is a nice city?"

"To some," I said cryptically. "To others, not so much."

He tipped his head so that his glasses caught the light. "Will I like it?"

"More than I, yes." I scratched the dog's neck and remained silent. After a few minutes of silence, he crept away to join his two companions, those who could speak with him fully. I hung back till Rossiya yelled to me.

"Yakutia, let's go!" He motioned for me to follow. I led my procession of animals down the road and one by one, helped them up into the truck. I hopped up after them, and was joined by Polsha as the door closed. Although it wasn't total darkness, the tiny windows showed the semi dark outside, which did nothing to lighten the atmosphere.

"Hello," he greeted. "Did you sleep well?"

"It was okay," I admitted. "Though I prefer to be on the floor with furs rather than on springs and cotton and polyethylene."

"It was wool," he corrected. "But yes, worse for your back."

"M,"

"Why are you so sad?" He suddenly asked.

"Who? Me?"

"Yes."

"I am not sad. I am broody." I said. "I'll feel better once we are away to the patrol compound. It has a air of mistrust and trickery."

"There is a certain strict hierarchy to follow." He explained. "It is called the Dedovshina, Grandfather Syndrome."

"I do not understand these militaristic ways," I looked down. "We have it so simple back at home. Seems like I don't fit with modern society."

"You don't necessarily have to," he said softly. "Nobody has to fit in. If you think you can make it out on your own. You've been doing it for a time. Why stop?"

"I never was cut off from it." I recounted. "I stood on the verge fringes. I don't need cellular phones, but I like running hot water. When I get pushed in too far, I feel very conscious of my peculiar traditions." I motioned to my dogs, who were all taking a nap on the floor. It was quite difficult, since the truck kept moving up and down along the snow it crushed under its mighty weight.

Polsha stopped to look outside as the dawn stretched its fingers up slowly, announcing the majesty Sun's arrival. "Then don't." He said simply.

"Don't what?"