The Winter Horses(46)

While Kalinka and the dog—and the crows—consumed the food Max had given them, they helped the horses clear snow from some grass so that they could eat, too. But Temüjin’s mind was not on his stomach; he kept lifting his shoe box-sized head and looking back the way they had come, as if searching for a glimpse of their pursuers.

Kalinka could tell he was anxious about it, which seemed to suggest that the SS were getting closer.

“How far behind do you think they are, Temüjin?” she asked him.

Temüjin shook his head.

“Motorcycles?”

The horse nodded.

“How many?”

He tapped his hoof on the ground twice.

“Not that it really matters how many, since they have guns. We might just outrun a German on a motorcycle, but we can’t outrun their bullets.”

She thought for a moment. “You know, if we do catch sight of them, then it might make sense for us all to scatter in four directions. There’s no way they can come after us all. And once we get to those trees, they might easily lose one of us, or more.”

This made sense, of course, although to the three animals, it seemed pointless answering her until necessity demanded it. Taras had already concluded he would defend the girl to the death, as he was certain Max had already done; the throat of a man seated in a motorcycle sidecar would be easy to catch in his powerful jaws. It would be a sweet and perhaps even tasty revenge.

“Especially once it starts to get dark,” she added. “Which won’t be long now.” She glanced up at the sky. “I just realized. We’ve been walking all day. Max would be proud of us, don’t you think? That we managed to get this far.”

Taras barked his agreement.

Kalinka waited for Börte to stop eating cold grass and then mounted her again.

They set off along the track that Taras had already made, and before long they were over the brow of a strange-looking hill that was studded with a circle of odd standing stones, which had been there since the beginning of civilization and looked like rotten, jagged teeth sticking out of the gums of the ground. The stones were marked with curious designs that must have signified something to the people who made them but meant nothing to Kalinka. Her father had been a very smart man, but she figured even he couldn’t have told her what the designs were supposed to represent.

“What was it he used to tell us?” she murmured as they walked through the stone circle. “ ‘The older I get, the less I know.’ ” She shook her head. “I never knew what that meant until now. I guess it just means that there’s so much in the world we can’t hope to understand but that it’s all right not to understand it, just as long as you realize that no one could hope to understand everything. I know I don’t. But frankly, the older I get, the less I even care.”

At the bottom of the hill was a thick line of conifer trees, where the wolfhound ate a large pinecone and the horses nibbled at some tree bark, which they seemed to enjoy; in just a few minutes, they each managed to chew a complete ring around two trunks, and Kalinka didn’t have the heart to point out that this only made their trail easier to follow. Even if it was dark by the time the Germans reached this place. Not that she thought Grenzmann and his men were going to slow down much when it got dark: as well as large-caliber machine guns, the sidecars on their motorcycles were equipped with powerful searchlights.

Kalinka and the animals resumed their journey at a trot and passed quickly through tall silver birch trees and around another hill. They made what seemed like good progress for thirty minutes or more until they came upon another clump of pine trees, but there an uncomfortable discovery awaited them: they were looking at the same two pine trees from which the horses had eaten the bark earlier on.

Kalinka almost fell off Börte’s back with disappointment.

“Oh no,” she sighed wearily. “We’ve come in a complete circle. We’re back where we were a while ago. Look. The stone circle we passed through is at the top of that hill. Well, so much for my navigation.” She shook her head. “It’s all my fault. You make mistakes when you’re tired. But I promise I won’t let it happen again.”

They came to a halt while Kalinka decided what to do. Given the fact that Temüjin was now distinctly nervous—his whole body was atremble, as if he sensed the Germans were much closer now—this setback seemed disastrous; but above all she sensed the importance of not panicking. Their very survival depended on it.

“Wait a minute.” She glanced up at the darkening sky and thought for a moment. “What do I know about the stars?” she asked herself. “Maybe I can figure out the best way to go from them. Isn’t that how people used to get around in the old days? Before compasses were invented? When they used that stone circle for telling them important stuff about the seasons, probably. And maybe which way is southeast.”