„Stay by my side, Yurochka", his grandfather advised Yuri, when they got off the bus on a busy street close to Leningradsky railway station. „You're still too young to just run off on your own, boy."

But – of course – he couldn't just listen to what he was told. He was five years old, after all. What was his dedushka even thinking?

So, he took the next opportunity to let go of his grandfather's hand and dive into the crowd, wriggling his way through busy office workers and students on their way to school.

When he walked past a little market, he stared in wonder at the food stalls, selling different flavours of heavenly smelling kasha, blinis and belmeni.

The streets got quieter, the further he went, until the stream of commuters abated completely. It was then that he, for the first time, realized, he was really all on his own. The buildings surrounding him weren't familiar and there was no one on the there he could have asked for help.

Yuri was far from ready to admit it, but he was scared, and his fingernails bit harsh crescents into the soft palm of his hands while he tried to keep himself from crying.

He was a big boy , and big boys didn't cry.

Slowly, he moved forwards, further down the street that seemed to house mainly businesses that would only open later in the day. He was almost ready to give up and turn back, when he heard someone swear loudly from inside the building to his right. The window, he then noticed, was just a crack open, and it was low enough for him to reach if he stood on his tippy-toes.

Straining his neck, he peeked into the inside of the building, surprised to actually find it to be an ice rink.

Yuri had been ice skating only once with his dedushka, and he hadn't enjoyed it very much. Everyone was just going in circles, round and round and round – that was, if they didn't spend most of their time on their botties.

What he saw here, though, was something completely different.

This man was practically floating on the ice, and Yuri sucked in a surprised gasp when he suddenly jumped and spiralled through the air so quickly, his eyes almost couldn't follow the movement.

Not only did it look stupidly beautiful, but it also made Yuri feel something weird in the pit of his stomach. Something akin to the feeling when he skipped breakfast and got terribly hungry later, but had to wait until his grandfather had gotten lunch ready. But that couldn't be the reason. After all, he'd had rye break with cheese for breakfast today, so it had to be something else.

Only - what?

The man was now leisurely skating a figure eight, his charcoal black hair flying like a flag in the wind. Suddenly, he looked up and his dark eyes met Yuri's.

For a split-second he was rooted to the floor. Then Yuri saw the man getting off the ice and coming towards him, and he felt a spike of fear run through his body.

What if he wasn't allowed to be watching? What if this man was after little boys like him? If he put him into a wet and dark basement, or – even worse! – called his grandfather?

Yuri decided not to take a chance and made a run for it. He ran into his dedushka only a street or two away. He got scolded, of course, but he still came back the next day. And the one after. Just to watch that man who moved so beautifully on the ice rink.

Until, one day, his grandfather eventually managed to follow him to the ice rink. Yuri almost broke into tears because he was pretty sure, this was the last time he had seen the man's gorgeous skating. But to his surprise, the man came up to Dedushka and talked to him, looking all earnest and trustworthy.

On the following day, Yuri came back to the rink with his grandfather for his first official skating lesson.

And he knew, the moment he first stepped onto the ice, it was where he belonged.