The Child of Winter ~ Book 1

Prologue: Rebirth

15 December 1998

    An infant's cry shattered the silence of the shadowy, dingy operation room in the medical wing. Trembling hands snatched up the mewling babe as harsher hands tossed the mother unceremoniously to her feet. An angry Russian voice then spoke up, (1)"Поздоровайтесь, а затем скажите прощание существа."

    The mother fell to her knees, weeping over the child and curling her exhausted form over the infant to protect him. She gazed up into the unforgiving eyes of the man before her and pleaded with him, (2)"Пожалуйста! Позвольте мне поднять его всего на несколько лет жизни!"

    A gun clicked menacingly as the man growled. He suddenly lowered the weapon and snarled, (3)"Сколько?"

    (4)"Я прошу только пятнадцать лет, сэр," her voice remained firm as she stated her final request to the man.

    Shockingly, the man curtly nodded and tossed the mother and newborn into a cell, deep in the recesses of the base. Once alone, the mother wept and allowed her fear to show itself. Her fate was sealed and the child's fate now lay beyond her reach. She gazed down at the child and whispered, (5)"Я люблю тебя, сын мой. Я молюсь, чтобы вы нашли безопасное место, чтобы назвать свой собственный день и знать, что я буду стоять рядом с вами через все это... Мой маленький солдат." The woman's voice grew stronger as she tenderly instructed her child, (6)"Будьте сильными и храбрыми, мой малыш, потому что в этом мире есть люди, которые не будут разорвать вашу плоть без угрызений совести. Вы не должны терять надежду на то, что солнце действительно поднимется для вас однажды. Я ... я знаю, что это произойдет, и что ты однажды убежишь отсюда." The mother then fell into a new bout of sorrow and cradled her son close. This wasn't the life she wanted to place her only child into, but it was out of her hands and no one would be there to help her once her fifteen years were up. Suddenly, a name sprang to life within her mind. It had only been mentioned in the whisperings of the broken man she'd fallen for, but it stood out like a brilliant star amongst the confusing shadows. She gazed down at her newborn son and nodded, the fire of resistance springing back to life within her as she whispered reverently, (7)"Стивен Грант... Это было имя, которое твой отец, казалось, цеплялся в свое время. Это будет ваше имя, маленький. Мой маленький Стивен Грант Барнс..." Izabella Petrovna then bestowed a tender kiss upon Steven's little forehead, pouring all her love into the single gesture as she prepared to rebel against her captors one last time.

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    Over the coming years, Izabella tried to raise the child as best she could, given her death would come sooner than she thought. She taught Steven manners, how to play the piano while sitting on the sandy floor of their cell, and how to draw with pieces of coal from their little fires. Izabella watched proudly as her son grew into a fine young man, but she was sorrowful as dawn rose over Steven's fifteenth birthday. The woman had developed cancer from her poor medical care and she knew she was dying, so she smiled gently as the guards gathered outside. Her final gift to Steven would be given today; she'd give up her life so that he would hopefully get the chance to live his own one day. As the guards roughly tore Steven away from her and forced him to watch as she was forced to her knees, she called out to him above the din, (8)"Будьте в безопасности, Стивен, и узнайте своего отца, и я всегда буду любить вас!" Izabella Petrovna's final prayer went out to her son and her tears fell like rain as the man she loved lowered his gun and fired.