There was nothing but white as far as the eye could see. The winds had picked up so quickly the snow appeared to be blowing sideways, and it stung like nettles as the frozen flakes pelted the small portion of Leo's face that was exposed above the heavy woollen scarf he'd wrapped around his mouth and nose. Winters in Voualsk were crueller than he imagined, more so than in Moscow though perhaps that was due to its rural location; the few buildings sparsely populating the area did nothing to shield him from the blinding snow that whipped around his large frame and crusted onto his heavy jacket.

Raisa was far ahead of him now; she appeared to be only a grey monolith nearly out of sight in the distance. They were walking at the same pace now, shuffling to conserve energy though even as he had tried to hurry in order to reach her, the distance between them never closed, as if she sensed his change in speed and sought to match it. Exhausted and worn, he gave up in this endeavour and instead called out to her:

- Raisa! Please, come back. It's foolish to separate like this.

His wife wasn't listening. Instead, she continued her trek onward, until her grey figure had disappeared completely into the snow. Feeling his heart begin to race with panic, Leo looked down at the boot prints ahead of him. As long as he followed them, he wouldn't lose her – but they, too, seemed to be vanishing right in front of his eyes. Soon, they were gone, and Leo was alone.

- Raisa!

There was no response. Leo's dread grew, and despite the bitter chill in the air, he could feel sweat begin to run down his spine. But all he could do was trek onward. She wouldn't have deviated in her path, and he was riding on the hope that if she did he would be able to see her figure re-emerge in the blizzard.

He had walked like this for some time, though for how long he couldn't be certain. It seemed the farther he trod, the heavier his limbs grew and the more painful each breath of cold air became. He wasn't hurrying but his lungs were tired from the strain; however, his mind refused to give up yet. He wouldn't let his wife slip from his grasp now, not after all they had been through together. She was right; all they had was each other, and while it might not have been love that kept them together, it was the bond of necessity, of familiarity, that fuelled Leo's desire—his need—to follow after her. All of his work for the MGB had already been fruitless; if he gave up on Raisa now, would his entire life be in vain? He wasn't sure his heart could take it. She was all he had left.

Suddenly, her figure reappeared as it had been before; a large grey splotch in the distance, and grew ever-so slowly until he could make out her heavy coat billowing out around her. He couldn't be sure if she had slowed down or was stopped completely, so he began briskly jogging towards her. Each step made his legs want to collapse beneath him but he used what little bit of adrenaline was left in his veins to carry himself until he had reached her.

She was standing still in the forest, one he hadn't realised he'd been approaching until he'd finally caught up with her. Slowing down a few metres away from her, he lugged his body step by step until he had reached her, and peered up to look at her face.

Her exposed cheeks were wind-chapped and already blue from the cold. She was staring downward, unmoving, and as Leo's eyes followed her gaze, his heart stopped.

There, lying at her feet, was the body of a boy, lying motionless and dusted with snow. He was naked, disembowelled, and a string was attached to his ankle, digging into his bluish skin. His mouth hung agape and was stuffed with bark, and his eyes, glassy and emotionless, stared upwards at the barren trees.

Taking one step forward, Leo more closely examined the boy's face. There was something familiar in it, something he couldn't quite place. And then, like a punch to the ribcage, it struck him—

Arkady.

He hadn't taken a breath in what seemed like minutes. Looking back up at Raisa, it seemed neither had she. She looked nauseous. Turning back to the corpse, his heart suddenly jolted and he nearly toppled over.

There were an innumerable amount of bodies, all naked and strewn about, piled on top of one another, their limbs sticking out amongst the mass of dead children. There were some he recognised and others he didn't, school children of Raisa's from Moscow and others from Voualsk, neighbours and children of his friends, some were even his own childhood friends. Pulpy, chewed bark was packed into their mouths so they looked like they were screaming, and he noticed that all of them, even Arkady, were suddenly looking at him, their eyes glazed over, lips blue.

He staggered, feeling sick to his stomach, and as he pressed his palm into the nearest tree, hunching over in order to retch, he heard a familiar, mocking voice.

- What a terrible accident.

It was Vasili. He was standing next to Raisa, his face handsome and cruel as he stared downwards at Leo. Immediately, the demoted officer felt rage building in his breast.

- This was no accident, nor was it coincidence. These children were murdered, and they were murdered by one man.

Before he could even finish speaking, Vasili was already shaking his head. There was no way to convince him of the truth to these heinous crimes, even when they lay plainly before him. There was no way to convince anyone.

- Can't you see? Their stomachs were all cut, string tied to their ankles, and the bark...

Leo was pleading, even though he knew the effort was fruitless. Not Vasili nor anyone else working for the government cared to know the truth of these murders. And that was a truth he had realised all too late.

Vasili was laughing at him, and so was Nesterov, and Kuzmin, and everyone else. All of his colleagues and superiors, former and current, were standing around him, laughing, as if the facts of the murders he tried to present were the ramblings of a mad man. He looked from the officers to the bodies splayed out before him. Though it seemed an obvious connection, perhaps they were right, perhaps he really was mad. Was cutting out the stomach a normal thing for murderers to do? And tying a string, and stuffing the mouth with bark? How would he know? Perhaps these were all random, disconnected acts. Perhaps he had been wrong all along.

Dejected and desperate, he slumped into the snow. His body was exhausted, and, reservoirs of adrenaline now spent, he felt unable to carry himself any farther. His limbs dropped heavily before him, and next his body fell limp against a tree. With what little energy he had left, he sought out Raisa amongst the sea of cruel and dead faces. She was staring back at him solemnly, and there was pity in her eyes. It was this look that imprinted into his mind as he succumbed to his exhaustion, and his vision tunnelled before going completely black.

He awoke with a start, gasping for air. His lungs ached as if he really had been trudging through the snow, but as his eyes flickered about in the darkness of the dingy room above the restaurant, he realised it had only been a dream.

Raisa was sleeping beside him. Even asleep she looked guarded, curled into a ball to preserve her body heat, her brows furrowed deeply. The occasional twitch she gave let him know she was dreaming. He wondered, for a moment, if she, too, dreamt of the dead boy they'd found lying in the woods. Were her dreams plagued with guilt? Remorse? Fear?

A gust of wind blew outside, and the nailed window rattled slightly. There was a distinct chill in the air that slipped through the corners and cracks in the room, and Raisa was shivering. Standing carefully as to not wake her, he pulled his own blanket around her slender frame. She stirred, and for a moment he stood rigid, but soon enough her breath had slowed once again into the deep lulls of sleep, and her body began to relax at the warmth it had needed.

Now Leo was shivering, but he didn't notice. He trod in his socked feet towards the window, peering out through the grimy panes at the landscape before him. Beyond the maze of buildings laid out before him, there was nothing but barren whiteness, and he wondered just how many bodies with stomachs removed and mouths full of bark lie cold and alone out there.