Lost burden

“Shut up, Mark!”

Ron muttered under his breath. His little brother was driving him mad. Hell, his little brother had been driving him mad ever since he was born. As he dragged his rusty sled, all Ron wanted to do was go sledding and possibly get his highly mysterious soul mate to spend some time with him. Of course, she her self was not aware of their so called ‘bond’. But it did not mean that what Ron felt for her was not real; it did not reduce its legitimacy even one bit.

“You shut up! I wanna go on singing,” Mark skipped beside him, clutching his tiny shark model to his chest and hopping over a stray rock on the forest floor.

The winter sunlight glinted all around them on every pile of snow, every frost bitten tree branch, every snow buried plant on the ground. The forest had since become a winter wonderland of sorts. And Ron had noticed that that was his crush, Olga’s favourite season; she typically spent the days outside in the forest alone making snow men and snow angels in such cold weather. Hence, he was determined to hang around outside as much as he could in hopes of getting rare glimpses of her. Perhaps, she might even notice him and invite him over to join her in her festivities. A boy could only dream...a boy could only dream.

Suddenly, his pesky little brother began singing again, absolutely snapping him out of his thoughts. Ron fought an urge to strangle him. He sometimes pondered just running off and abandoning him in the forest alone. It might be much easier than having to deal with him anymore for the rest of his life. It might be better than having him driving him mad every second.

“Mark, I swear to god above, if I have to tell you one more fucking time-”

Mark just stuck his scarlet tongue at his elder brother and dashed off when Ron tried to snatch him by his red tweed sleeve and slap him.

“Mark!” Ron called after him, getting increasingly irked by the minute.

He patted down his winter coat and adjusted his ushanka hat before trudging after him in the thick Russian snow. Ron groaned, halfheartedly kicking piles and piles of it out of his way. He wondered how his brother managed to run so fast like some sort of wolf in such impossible circumstances? On the way, he kicked a boulder neatly hidden underneath a heinous blanket of snow. He felt pinpricks of tears emerge on his lower eye lids and bit his dry cracked lips to stop a yell from escaping his throat.

And so, he cursed instead under his frosty breath, “Fuck.”

He adjusted his hat and sighed. Just then, he heard a voice come from beside him, “That looked like it hurt.”

He swiftly turned towards it and narrowed his eyes. The source of the voice turned out to be a shifting figure hidden in the darkness of some trees’ shadows. Ron felt the alarm creep right into his vividly blue eyes; though he hid it, he was terrified. His grand mother had always warned him about being extra careful while taking short cuts in the forest. Russia was at war with Germany and spies were always around and about. So from the stories he had been told about what they did to any wandering Russians, he was left traumatized by their very existence...although he was yet to actually meet one.

Fortunately, something occurred to him. The voice sounded very high pitched. Much too feminine to be a man’s. And the shadowed figure looked suspiciously too short…

“Show your self! I know you are just a kid!” Ron barked at her.

And so after a moment of thought, she reared her red pigtailed head out. Ron’s spit nearly caught in his throat. It was Olga- his self proclaimed soul mate.

“O-Olga, I-”

Smirking, she inched closer towards him in her raggedy navy coat. Ron didn’t bat an eye about it being unkempt; most kids, including himself, were donned in tattered wear. The war ensured that. Also, her glinting green eyes were simply more interesting.

“You are alone out here today? Where’s your brother?”

Ron’s heart soared; so she had noticed his presence all this while. His spending the entire winter outdoors had paid off!

“He’s um...somewhere,” Ron waved the topic away.

Olga scrunched up her copper eyebrows but shrugged and started walking off. Panicking, Ron scrambled after her.

Witless, he struggled for footing, “So...did you hear of that mad man dying?”

“Hm?” Olga crouched over, scooping some snow into her palms.

Ron swallowed. “R-Rasputin,”

Olga laughed. “Oh yeah, I did actually,”

Ron smirked unsurely, “The assassins. They finally got him,”

“That poor bastard...hope it was excruciating,” And with that, Olga absentmindedly launched her snowball at a branch with a nested young bird. Shocked, it squawked and flew off, faltering every now and then in the air from its tiny wings barely supporting its weight.

“Damn it,” Olga scowled.

Ron furrowed his eyebrows. He was troubled. “What are you doing?”

She shrugged indifferently and walked off. Why was she so...odd? This wasn’t how Ron expected her to be. Suddenly, almost as if a cannon went off in his head, he realized maybe he had been a bit too quick in declaring her his soul mate. Regardless, he quietly tagged along. Soon, she found yet another nest and readied a snowball.

“You can’t do that,” He snatched her arm, slightly stunned.

“Do what?” She snatched her arm back, staring coldly at him.

“That’s...that’s just crue-”

A blood curdling scream rang out in the air. Ron turned towards it, alarmed. His blood went cold when he recognized that voice. Rushing away from Olga, he frantically searched for his little brother.

“Mark? Mark? Mark? Mark?” he yelled and yelled till he was hoarse.

What had he done? How could he have let him out of his sight? What was happening to him? What would their grand mother say? The screaming was already dying down but desperate and scared, Ron found a way to find its source. And when he got there, he found a man in a tattered navy coat standing in the distance near a frozen pond.

Ron noticed that there was a hole in the sheet of ice. And by the strange man’s feet lay a small shark model.

Ron halted in terror as the man finally turned to him and frowned. Instantly, Ron backpedaled to flee but his vision went askew when his head was thrown back by a rock hitting it. Laying in snow with scarlet leaking out of the crown of his head, he caught a glimpse of his attacker.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Kraut.” Olga stood over him, smiling. “I am no kid,”

Soon, Ron felt his legs being tugged. Feeble, he watched the greying sky as he was led to a frigid grave to rest.