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  That was Tanya's voice from somewhere above them.

  "You have to be patient. She likes to be chased you know. But if you pull away from her, then she'll come to you," Ira said.

  "Is that how you got Dounia, in the end?" Tanya asked curiously.

  "Of course. All the chasing around in the world, and my Dounia was reticent as ever. As soon as I turn away and start ignoring her, she comes to ask why I'm not interested anymore. Of course, I never stopped being interested. And you still want to talk to her, but you must let her come to you."

  "If she would just come back, I would tell her that if she really wanted, I would ask to be reassigned," Tanya said with a sigh and shake of her head. "But she must ask me, I am not just going to do it because I know she wants me to!"

  "Both so stubborn," Ira shrugged. "I have done what I could, but now Dounia is avoiding me as well."

  "And me," Meow grumbled, and his voice sounded very loud in her head.

  "She can't avoid us forever. This part of the camp isn't that big!" Ira pointed out. "She will run into one of us eventually."

  It sounded like everyone was against her, then. Fine! Did they not think she could find a way to avoid them? She could do a lot better than that. Even Meow would have trouble finding her if she left the camp.

  Getting stiffly to her feet, Dounia marched hurriedly in the other direction, towards the edge of their camp. Their regiment was staying in one place, but they were still a part of the 4th Air Army, which included several other squadrons. The air base itself was huge, and if they thought she couldn't avoid them among all that, then they were very much mistaken.

  It took her only a minute to remember why she never went outside the camp.

  First of all: she had cat ears. The rest of her regiment had heard the stories and were used to seeing her with them. Her ears were very difficult to hide in normal circumstances, as they tended to move by themselves. The story had been kept as quiet as possible, and although there had been rumours, nothing had ever been confirmed.

  Second: there were only two other all-female regiments, and the rest were all men. The majority of them had the tendency of making unsavoury remarks about their female comrades, even though they were on the same side.

  Dounia put her hood up to hide her ears, but nothing would hide how short she was. Rebellion burning in her belly, Dounia refused to turn back and kept on her way, marching past supply tents and other various semi-permanent structures. It had snowed in the night, and everything was dusted in a fine layer of white.

  Mostly, the men were ignoring her. Dounia was short, and kept having to walk around people, not wanting to draw attention to herself by refusing to move out of the way. Somewhere in all this hubbub were two other female regiments, and wouldn't care if another woman was wandering among them.

  "Ah, what have we here? A little mouse?"

  Apparently it was too much to ask to simply be left alone. Dounia had been solely among female crewmembers for so long that she had forgotten what men were like. Some liked altercations and humiliating other people just because they could, and many of them picked fights or disparaged their female counterparts.

  "Leave me alone," Dounia said flatly, ducking her head further into the hood. "I am on an errand. I do not want any trouble."

  Someone grasped the back of her hood and pulled hard.

  "Oh, a little kitten! My mistake!"

  There were three of them, all leaning on each other and laughing. She saw it in their eyes. They had been looking for a target, and here she had presented them with the perfect one. They were all wearing bomber jackets similar to hers, although theirs fit better, having been sized properly.

  One of them reached out and grabbed one of her ears, saying, "Oh, do you need these––"

  Dounia grabbed his hand and twisted.

  "Ow, there's no need for violence, little cat," one of the pilots said.

  "You were going to pull on my ear!" Dounia snarled, backing away.

  "It's just a bit of fun," his fellow continued. "If you didn't want to play, you shouldn't have worn them!"

  Oh dear. These idiots thought that they were fake and not actually attached to her head. That pull had hurt! Dounia rubbed her ear and glared.

  "A black cat. You must be one of the witches."

  Well, no matter what derogatory name they wanted to call them, Dounia was a part of the night bomber regiment, and they did some damn good flying if you asked her.

  "So I am. What do you want?" Dounia demanded, ears flattening.

  "I want you to go home to your mama. War is no place for little girls."

  "This 'little girl' is worth an Iron Cross to the Germans. How about you?" Dounia retorted, bristling.

  "It just means you're annoying," one of the men said.

  "It means the Germans want to pin a medal on anyone who can put women back in their place," another added.

  "It means," a new voice added, "that the women are better flyers than you and the Germans know it. Stop harassing this lady and get back to work. You're going back up in half an hour, and if you could land half as well as the girls, maybe you would all come back in one piece."

  The men slunk away and Dounia watched them go, only turning to face this newest person once they were out of her line of sight.

  "Commander Shikov at your service," the new man introduced himself, offering his hand.

  He was almost as short as Dounia.

  Dounia took his hand and said, "Lieutenant Tsareva, 46th Taman Guards."

  "A pleasure," Commander Shikov said. "My apologies for my men. They have been told many times already to respect their female comrades, but the lesson does not seem to stick."

  Dounia didn't want to tell him it was fine, because it wasn't fine at all. She was a soldier, same as the rest of them, and she served her country and risked death alongside them. He seemed to be a nice man, however. Would he still be a nice man if she managed to offend him?

  "I'm glad you are not like them," Dounia said finally.

  "You are rather far from home, Lt. Tsareva," Commander Shikov commented, looking at her ears strangely. Had he realized they were real?

  "No farther than anyone else," Dounia said sharply.

  "Oh, I meant from your end of camp. What brings you to this end of the 4th Air Army?"

  She wasn't about to tell him she was avoiding her younger sister. Female soldiers were called names like 'little girl' all the time. She couldn't make it seem like they all did childish things like that.

  "I wanted to see what it was like," Dounia said haltingly. "We never go outside our area."

  "Oh, in that case, let me show you around."

  Dounia was extremely suspicious of his motives, but it wasn't exactly as if she could tell him that she preferred the company of women. Also, she had no sense of direction on the ground, and having a guide would be nice. Besides, if she were with the Commander, he served the dual purpose of giving her an excuse not to return to camp and keeping away the men who would otherwise harass her.

  "Lead on," she said, gesturing.

  To his merit, he did not try and offer her his arm.

  *~*~*

  Ira and Meow swept the camp one last time before returning to the mess where everyone had agreed to meet up.

  "Any luck?" Sveta asked, upon their return.

  Ira shook her head solemnly. "No sign at all."

  "What if she comes back and wants to talk?" Tanya fretted, pacing frantically back and forth. "I can't leave before she returns!"

  Ira sighed sadly. Tanya might have to do just that. They'd received the news just hours ago: Tanya and all of her fellow radio officers were being sent to the front tonight. If Dounia didn't return soon, then Tanya would have to leave without even saying goodbye.

  "I'm sure she'll be back soon," Ira said, but internally, she had a weight in her stomach that wouldn't go away.

  "I can't not go," Tanya said. "They need us at the front!"

  "Lieutenant Tsareva, you are
needed. Come."

  Tanya's superiors were here looking for her already. Tanya looked between the officers and Ira in anguish, hands clutched together. Her lip trembled, and she bit down on it and took several deep breaths.

  "Coming," Tanya said, turning to go with them, voice oddly flat.

  Ira watched as she left, the urge to go after Tanya or find Dounia struggling within her. But there was nothing to be done, because Tanya was gone and Dounia wasn't here. How could she possibly tell Dounia that her little sister had been taken off to the front without her even saying goodbye?

  The atmosphere in the mess tent after that was subdued. No one liked having to see family separated. Most of them had siblings or cousins who were also a part of the war effort.

  When Dounia finally returned, she was talking animatedly to a strange male officer and stopped short when she noticed the unhappy mood in the air.

  "What's going on?" she asked, voice suddenly afraid.

  "Dounia, it's Tanya," Ira said, feeling the tightness in her throat that meant she was going to do something embarrassing, like cry. "The last radio officer arrived early. Their orders have been expedited. Tanya is already on her way to the front."

  For a second, Dounia was completely expressionless, and then her face crumpled.

  "And you let her go?" Dounia cried, her voice thick and angry.

  "There was no choice! We couldn't find you!" Ira tried to explain, holding up her hands.

  Dounia hunched over, face in her hands and she shook, a fine tremor running through her body, making her shoulders heave. "How could you let her go?"

  "We couldn't do anything!" Ira said, and to her surprise, her face was wet and streaked with tears.

  "She can't be gone," Dounia moaned, low and terrible into her hands. "She was supposed to stay here where she would be safe!"

  Ira finally managed to stumble forward, just in time to catch Dounia's figure as she collapsed to her knees on the frozen ground.

  "She'll be okay," Ira said, clutching Dounia's shivering form to her. "She'll be okay."

  Her words sounded so empty.

  *~*~*

  Ira and Dounia sprinted across the tarmac towards their plane, the lights of the airfield glaring and bright, obscuring the night beyond their reach. Other aviators were also running on their way to their planes, dashing amongst the ground crew, who were hard at work getting them ready to fly.

  Ira had taken time earlier to come by and put all the necessary spells on their little kukuruznik, repairing the shrapnel damage from their last run as best she could. Sometimes, she thought that magic was all that kept the hardy planes together.

  Dounia climbed the wing and vaulted into the front cockpit. Without a word, she strapped herself in and pulled her goggles down over her eyes.

  Dounia hadn't been talking to anyone lately. She had been avoiding Ira and Meow, answering their queries in a monosyllabic monotone. She wasn't eating either, picking at her food and leaving most of it untouched. Ira suspected that she wasn't sleeping well either, tossing and turning restlessly, and scooting away whenever Ira tried to approach her.

  Tanya had sent a letter from the front as soon as she had arrived. Dounia hadn't opened it, and it was tucked away among her meagre possessions still sealed.

  Ira climbed more carefully into her own cockpit behind Dounia's, settling in and raising a hand to make sure that Meow was still comfortable around her shoulders.

  Ira checked their bombing coordinates and was about to relay them to Dounia when a runner suddenly dashed up to the plane and jumped up on their wing to speak to Ira. Frowning, Ira leaned forward so that the girl could speak into her ear. The airfield was loud with the buzz of propellers coming alive, and she couldn't miss this message.

  "Change of coordinates," the runner said. "The Germans have launched a night time raid and have overrun our lines."

  "New coordinates?" Ira demanded.

  The girl told her, and Ira's insides clenched up with icy dread. Both Meow and Dounia were watching the exchange, and Dounia's brows drew in at the expression on her face.

  She repeated the coordinates back to the girl, just to be absolutely sure, but they were the correct ones.

  Tanya had sent Ira a message too, nothing like a full letter, but something. That message contained only one piece of information––Tanya's current location, coordinates and all. Those coordinates matched the coordinates of their target perfectly.

  Ira told Dounia the new coordinates numbly, and although Dounia could obviously tell something was very wrong, she didn't know what it was. Which meant that Dounia didn't know that her sister's current position was overrun with enemy troops and they were about to drop bombs on them, enemy and ally alike.

  Dounia didn't ask, just got their props going and started taxiing to the runway for take-off.

  Ira's throat felt frozen. She had to tell Dounia right now, but she couldn't find the words, locked behind her teeth and crystallized in her lungs. She'd promised. She'd promised Dounia that Tanya would be okay.

  They were just over halfway there when Dounia finally asked, "Ira, where are we going?"

  For a moment, Ira trembled in her seat and couldn't say a word.

  "Ira?" Dounia asked, and Ira knew that Dounia knew and just needed it confirmed.

  "The new coordinates," Ira said, voice ragged. "Dounia, we have to turn around. The coordinates are the same as the ones your sister told me is her current position. We can't... we can't drop explosives on your sister!"

  Meow's claws dug through Ira's bomber jacket and into her shoulder.

  Dounia was silent, but their little bomber's course held steady. Ira's breathing was wavering and short, a few moments from going into hyperventilation. Her heart was pounding so hard against her ribcage that it hurt to be alive.

  "Who called down the bombing run?" Dounia asked softly.

  "It had to have been the radio officer on duty," Ira answered. "It could have been Tanya. I don't know; they have duty shifts, and Tanya didn't tell me which one she was."

  Dounia didn't turn around. They kept in formation with the two bombers on either side of them, flying low over the treetops as they approached the front lines. The Germans wouldn't expect them to bomb their own coordinates, which meant they wouldn't be ready with their spotlights and shrapnel.

  "We have to carry out the mission," Dounia said, voice brittle. "It is better that Tanya and our fellow soldiers die by our fire than fall into the hands of the Germans."

  Ira knew that. The Germans hated that they were being defied by women and did particularly horrific things to those enemy women that did become their prisoners. Soviet soldiers didn't stay prisoners for very long before they were executed. Dounia was right, it was better this way.

  Some of them might escape. That was the only hope they had, that their own troops withdrew far enough that they weren't caught in the bomb blasts.

  Up ahead of them, another night bomber regiment had already started bombing their lines, and the tree line ahead of them was aflame, vermillion smoke curling up into the blue of the winter sky. They were already on their way back to base for another load of bombs. Their three-plane formation advanced into the light of the fires unchallenged, and they could all release their loads as one, without the need of manoeuvring and distraction tactics.

  In the mirror spell set up to guard their rear, Ira saw pillars of fire shoot into the air like geysers, sending sparks high into the sky to fall back down as ash when it cooled.

  There would be nothing left of the site by morning.

  Bombs delivered, they turned to go back to base to get fitted up with another round. The night was far from over, and they would continue to ferry back and forth with more explosives.

  The night stretched out endlessly, and Ira lost count of how many runs they made. It was all a blur, carried out on automatic. None of them spoke the entire night, not Dounia to exalt in the delight of flying, not Meow to complain, and not Ira to admonish them both.


  When they finally landed for the night, dawn was only an hour off. The ground crew tied their aircrafts down and aircraft mechanics moved in to check them over for malfunctions.

  None of the aviators retired to their bunks, as exhausted as they were. They all knew that they'd just bombed their own lines, and waited fitfully to find out if there were any survivors. The faces around them were grim and taciturn. Dounia's eyes were hollow, and she looked so diminished it was if she were a wraith.

  "What's wrong with Dounia?" Zina asked, coming up on Ira's other side.

  "Tanya was there," Ira said shortly and didn't say anything else.

  Ira didn't tell anyone else, but she could tell the terrible news had circulated around the room as a careful space opened up around them. Everyone wanted to offer condolences, but Dounia's shut-off expression made it hard to approach her.

  Ira didn't dare to move any closer to Dounia, knowing that when Dounia was upset she pulled away from those trying to offer comfort. She liked to pretend that she didn't need it.

  "She could have survived. There are people starting to arrive right now from the front," Zina said, coming back to Ira's side.

  Normally after a successful run, they celebrated, chatting and talking and linking arms in their exuberance, still fired up on adrenaline and danger. This was the most terrible atmosphere Ira had ever experienced. They hadn't had to drop bombs on their own lines often, and the fact that Tanya had been there made it all the worse. Ira felt guilt tearing up her insides, and she could barely imagine what Dounia must be feeling. How was one supposed to tell their parents that their baby girl might be dead, and that they had had a hand in it?

  They waited in a tense, uncomfortable mood, drinking bad coffee to stay awake. The sun was rising before they heard any news from the front.

  Another runner came to tell them that most of the survivors had arrived and were being treated for injuries and being processed.

  "There might be some stragglers, but we have most of the survivors now," she said.

  "Do you know the name of the radio officer who called down the bombing run?" Dounia demanded, some of the fight returning to her voice.

  The runner searched her face carefully, then looked down at her clipboard. "A Lieutenant Tatiana Ivanovna Tsareva was the one who called the bombing run on her own coordinates."