A/N: I made an edit above lol idk if it's good but I hope you guys like it??
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SOMEDAYS SHE MISSED NÖVESK. Others, she would praise the gods for bringing her to Birsk.
Most of the time she would only remember the warmth of the temple floors during the summer, or the laughter of children during their meals. She'd remember the quiet countryside, the flower beds that grew outside the statue of Ekaterina The Holy. The whispers of prayers into her small hands as the priestesses would teach them to praise, the feeling of her knees on the cold marble. In Növesk, children were taught their holiness like they were taught to walk. It was a village of saints and devotion.
But on her thirteenth birthday, Winter came like a disease that had been waiting to plague them all. She had unlearnt her holiness that year and left all of her prayers to die on a dead boy's lips. By spring, all that was left of Növesk were ashes and dead things.
The Eastern Temple in Birsk had reminded her of her own temple in Növesk as she walked past it that morning. General Bessmertny's coat was heavy in her hands as she sped up her pace while walking past. She could see the line up of sick and poor outside of it, seeking the gifts of whichever of the gods they would pray to.
Let them know that their holy walls won't protect them from fire, She thought to herself as she felt the cold bite of snow on her legs, walking faster and faster. Ketya used to think temples could never burn, there were old folktales of cities turning to dust with mighty holy temples still standing—the will of the gods was more powerful than any rifle, they used to tell her. Yet the truth seemed to come out that day five years ago. She stopped believing it once she watched the cathedrals turn to ash. Anything could burn.
Once she had passed the temple, her legs were already numb.
The market was busy enough that Ketya held tight to the coat and bag of coins in her hands as she scampered past carts and stands. People walked past her in bright colors, rich enough to have clothing that didn't fade.
A year ago, the market might've been filled with foods and spices of all types. The war had seen to end all that, rations being handed out by soldiers every other morning right after dawn. Every person was allotted their necessary rations for the next two days, and if you failed to show up at dawn—you starved.
Bakers and cooks were given sugar and flour as extras though, how else were the rich going to rot their teeth? All that was sold in the market now was clothing, mostly coats and boots due to the heavy snow. As hungry for something other than turnips and hard bread as Ketya was, she was glad to know that at least she could keep warm by buying a ridiculously expensive coat.
