himself to be. It would ruin everything!
"Sergei, you really do say the stupidest things sometimes. Don't be an idiot!" he snapped.
CHAPTER TEN
In the Night Forest
As they traipsed from Moscow through the countryside of Russia, heading toward Germany on their way to France, Nadya was surprised to discover that she enjoyed life as a young man. It was freedom itself--no more hair to wash and tear a comb through; her clothing was loose and comfortable. Her walk was becoming bolder, with a hint of the swagger she'd so often observed in men; it was a way to ward off challenges to her "masculinity" from other young males who might be inclined to pick a fight with her.
The endurance and strength she'd developed during her year of hard, grueling work at The Happy Comrades served her well as they found itinerant day labor at ship docks, at cargo wharfs, or in fields, plowing the spring crops. They even found work swinging mallets to smash rocks in the employment of a builder of stone walls.
Nadya was strong enough to do the work alongside Ivan and Sergei, and every day she grew leaner and more muscular. It seemed to Nadya that they had, indeed, become "happy comrades." Working as equals to ensure their most essential needs--food, shelter, safety, and simple entertainment--had bonded them. Their shared goals and struggles had united the three-some in a way that she treasured.
Sergei, always so kind and upbeat, was like a brother to her, and even her initial up-and-down relationship with Ivan had now smoothed into one of friendship. Although they still spatted sometimes, it always was over quickly and their anger would swiftly abate. She could jolly Ivan out of a sour mood with a practical joke or a clever pun.
One evening, a month into their journey, as they made camp in the woods near the German border, Nadya bumped into Sergei while building their fire. He stared at her with surprise. "What is it?" she asked him.
"Your arms are rock solid," he remarked.
Proudly she rolled up the sleeve of her white shirt and flexed her biceps. "I love this life as a man," she told him honestly. "It's so free! I never want to go back to the confinement of being female."
She didn't like the distressed expression that came into his eyes. "Ivan!" he shouted.
Ivan had been collecting firewood in the forest but came running, tossing the wood he'd gathered as he blasted out of the trees. "What? What's happened?"
"Look at her arm!" Sergei demanded. "Flex it for him, Nadya."
With a grin, Nadya bent her arm, causing the muscle to bulge.
Ivan's eyes widened with exasperation. "You made me come running for that?"
"That is not the arm of a grand duchess," Sergei insisted. Taking Nadya's hand in his, he turned it palm up. "These calluses and those sunburned cheeks don't exactly make her look like a member of the aristocracy either."
"How do you propose that we live if she doesn't work?" Ivan challenged.
"I don't know, but we're on the German border; it won't be that long before we're in France. I've got to start training her to act aristocratically. As she is now, no one would even believe she'd even had a roof over her head, let alone lived in a palace. Nadya's looking more like a field hand than a grand duchess."
Ivan surveyed her, walking in a circle. "You're right," he agreed. "In many ways, she looks worse now than when we first found her."
"Precisely," Sergei said. "Back then she had a certain rough feminine appeal. She even had a natural delicacy. Now she looks like she was born to the hard work of the peasant class."
"Excuse me. I'm standing right here," Nadya irritably reminded them, "in case you forgot. I happen to like the way I look." These days, when she caught her image reflected in a lake while bathing or in the shining steel bumper of a harvester while working, she saw a young woman who stood tall with the health of days spent in the open air. There were no more dark circles under her eyes. The relentless sun had
"Sergei, you really do say the stupidest things sometimes. Don't be an idiot!" he snapped.
CHAPTER TEN
In the Night Forest
As they traipsed from Moscow through the countryside of Russia, heading toward Germany on their way to France, Nadya was surprised to discover that she enjoyed life as a young man. It was freedom itself--no more hair to wash and tear a comb through; her clothing was loose and comfortable. Her walk was becoming bolder, with a hint of the swagger she'd so often observed in men; it was a way to ward off challenges to her "masculinity" from other young males who might be inclined to pick a fight with her.
The endurance and strength she'd developed during her year of hard, grueling work at The Happy Comrades served her well as they found itinerant day labor at ship docks, at cargo wharfs, or in fields, plowing the spring crops. They even found work swinging mallets to smash rocks in the employment of a builder of stone walls.
Nadya was strong enough to do the work alongside Ivan and Sergei, and every day she grew leaner and more muscular. It seemed to Nadya that they had, indeed, become "happy comrades." Working as equals to ensure their most essential needs--food, shelter, safety, and simple entertainment--had bonded them. Their shared goals and struggles had united the three-some in a way that she treasured.
Sergei, always so kind and upbeat, was like a brother to her, and even her initial up-and-down relationship with Ivan had now smoothed into one of friendship. Although they still spatted sometimes, it always was over quickly and their anger would swiftly abate. She could jolly Ivan out of a sour mood with a practical joke or a clever pun.
One evening, a month into their journey, as they made camp in the woods near the German border, Nadya bumped into Sergei while building their fire. He stared at her with surprise. "What is it?" she asked him.
"Your arms are rock solid," he remarked.
Proudly she rolled up the sleeve of her white shirt and flexed her biceps. "I love this life as a man," she told him honestly. "It's so free! I never want to go back to the confinement of being female."
She didn't like the distressed expression that came into his eyes. "Ivan!" he shouted.
Ivan had been collecting firewood in the forest but came running, tossing the wood he'd gathered as he blasted out of the trees. "What? What's happened?"
"Look at her arm!" Sergei demanded. "Flex it for him, Nadya."
With a grin, Nadya bent her arm, causing the muscle to bulge.
Ivan's eyes widened with exasperation. "You made me come running for that?"
"That is not the arm of a grand duchess," Sergei insisted. Taking Nadya's hand in his, he turned it palm up. "These calluses and those sunburned cheeks don't exactly make her look like a member of the aristocracy either."
"How do you propose that we live if she doesn't work?" Ivan challenged.
"I don't know, but we're on the German border; it won't be that long before we're in France. I've got to start training her to act aristocratically. As she is now, no one would even believe she'd even had a roof over her head, let alone lived in a palace. Nadya's looking more like a field hand than a grand duchess."
Ivan surveyed her, walking in a circle. "You're right," he agreed. "In many ways, she looks worse now than when we first found her."
"Precisely," Sergei said. "Back then she had a certain rough feminine appeal. She even had a natural delicacy. Now she looks like she was born to the hard work of the peasant class."
"Excuse me. I'm standing right here," Nadya irritably reminded them, "in case you forgot. I happen to like the way I look." These days, when she caught her image reflected in a lake while bathing or in the shining steel bumper of a harvester while working, she saw a young woman who stood tall with the health of days spent in the open air. There were no more dark circles under her eyes. The relentless sun had
Similar Books
