Blood and Water [War and Peace BBC Story]

Three

Anastasya raked her brush through her thick, curly locks, glancing out the window as she saw a carriage approach. She knew not who was inside, but she knew she would not be there to find out. With war rolling closer, she knew that she'd have no time to talk her mother into allowing her decision, so she had called on her dearest cousin, who would gladly have done anything for her, to aid in her escape. He came in the night before and hid in the stables, and come noon, when her mother and father would be out for their post-luncheon walk through the gardens, Ana would steal away.

She sported a pair of riding boots, with dark trousers, a crisp white shirt and vest, attempting to blend in. Ana had wanted to cut her hair to a boyish hairstyle, but Alexei had assured her that his connections would assure her what she sought. He was due her a favor, he and his wife had wished for a child and Ana desired a position to help in the military. She was to be a medic.

As she slipped through the backdoor, clad in her uniform, she stole a glance down the hall and tucked her mother's locket into her breasts. She was unsure if she would return home, but one could only hope.

Autumn approached quickly, like a bullet tearing through the air and through a toughness and grit and just above shoulder length haircut, Anastasya had torn her way to respect. The first few weeks that she had come to her regiment with Alexei as her general had been a grueling time, for respect seemed to evade her, but she was good at her trade and tough as nails. She hadn't had to kill, yet. And she prayed to God that she would never have to.

Until that day came however, she rode, with a face streaked with dirt and sharp tendrils that poked left and right. She was sure if her mother saw her now, she'd have a fit; she wondered if they were still searching for her – she hoped they weren't. She couldn't really remember how they looked, she hadn't seen her own reflection in quite some time, save the day before when she caught a foggy glimpse in a puddle of fresh blood, but she was sure the haggard looking monster couldn't be her.

The men never spoke of how she looked, they knew that she had no real regard for the appearances of them or herself and so it was deemed unfair that she should be subjected to such judgement on their part. So, as their party ventured to a resting point, she wondered to the edge of the creek and dipped her calloused hands in the water, smoothing the clear surface over her face. The water turned brown and red as it ran from her face and hands, dripping back into the once clean stream.

"Stasya," called a man of her brigade. She turned and glanced his way. He dipped his head to her fresh face, suddenly reminded that she was indeed a pretty looking woman, but then added, "We'll be connecting to another brigade, then settling for a camp tonight – if you need any of us, you simply say."

She nodded and crossed back to him, the pair returning to their horses, the group moving with the monotonous clacking of the horses. Come night fall, they found the dull flames of the camps fire and set up at the west flank, thickening the long running line of tents. Ana and Alexei took to their typical tent and a fire started outside, the pair watching in the opening of their temporary home.