Running. My bare feet repeatedly hit the snow, propelling me further. My breathing was fast and shallow. The heavily falling snow limited my visibility to about one yard. My mind screamed for me to keep going even as my muscles stiffened and cried out in objection. My balalaika swung back and forth, constantly hitting my back as the worn down strap threatened to snap. The messenger bag that held some morsels of food and a picture of my family swayed violently, the buckle clattering loudly, joining the sounds of my respiration that broke the night's silence.

I looked over my shoulder and saw them 10 yards away, still chasing me, following me relentlessly. Three huge men dressed in black, their faces twisted into cruel smiles. They knew I was losing speed, that I would eventually tire out and stop. Then, they would kill me. They shouted threats in Russian, but I ignored them, though I didn't look away so I could track their progress. Bad idea.

"Ugh!" I grunted as I collided with somebody and fell onto the cold snow. "Watch where you're standing!" Then, I looked up and my mouth dropped open as the other person turned around.

The person I had run into was at least a foot taller than I was. He had silvery hair, a very long scarf, and a heavy tan coat. His gloved hands gripped a metal faucet pipe stained with blood. But what really struck me were his eyes. A deep, radiant shade of purple flooded his irises. His slight smile was not enough to conceal the pain that resided in his eyes.

"Hmm? Oh, privyet," he said happily.

I shrieked when I risked a glance behind me. My pursuers were rapidly gaining, now only about five yards away.

The man looked up and saw the men. "Are you running from them?"

I nodded and began to rise to my feet, silently cursing the tall man. What kind of fool stands outside in the snow holding a pipe like that? And why was there blood on it? I stood for a second, then pain shot through my ankle and I gasped on my way back to the ground.

"Shoot," I muttered.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine," the man said as he lifted his pipe over his shoulder like a baseball bat and began to walk towards the men.

I tried to yell "No, don't! They'll kill you!" but my mouth had run dry. The men stopped a yard away from where I sat and looked at the man, puzzled as to why he wasn't running. I began biting my nails and whispering, "Please don't die, please don't die." I would feel immensely guilty if he died trying to save me.

I scrambled on all fours in the opposite direction, trying to get as far as possible from the inevitable conflict.

The man with the pipe swung his weapon around and whacked one of the men in black over the head. Even from a distance, I heard the sickening crack of bone shattering. The first victim crumpled into a heap on the ground, the snow around him rapidly turning from white to red. The tall man smiled an innocent smile at the other two and thrust his pipe through another man, swiftly drawing it out as the body fell forward with a muffled thud. The third man, startled at the quick deaths of his companions, began to run. I tried to cover my eyes, but they were glued to the horror as the pipe man ran after the escaping thug. He grabbed the black figure and snapped his neck, the terrible sound of it reaching my ears.

Just that fast, the carnage was over, leaving three bodies lying in the snow. My eyes widened, and I began to hyperventilate. If he could do that kind of... damage to three grown men, imagine what he could do to me, an 18-year-old?

I felt sick, and put a hand to my forehead. It felt like a raging inferno, even in the low temperature I was in. Now was definitely not the time to get a fever! The man started to walk toward me, and I wanted to scream "Stay away!" but my tongue seemed glued to the roof of my mouth. All I could do was make a feeble attempt to keep a distance between him and me. Crawling, however, was not effective. I was suddenly overcome with fatigue and collapsed in the snow. I rolled over so I could witness my own death, die with dignity. It had stopped snowing, the sky had cleared. The moon was beautiful... I only seemed aware of the burning in my forehead and the beauty of the winter's night sky. The moon and stars set against a dark purple... just like the man's eyes...

I saw the man's figure standing above me, outlined in the moonlight, his face drawing closer. His expression confused me; he had a look of concern on his face. I turned my head and saw the pipe, glistening with new blood. I gave up and relaxed, prepared to die. What I wasn't prepared for was the sensation of being lifted from the ground. I was being carried bridal style by the man.

"You are safe with me," he whispered.

Then, everything went black.