Even as she spoke people began arriving, until the room was crowded with bodies that smelled of wet fur, smoke, and wet dog. Clodagh’s house boasted a big table with four chairs set close to the stove. Yana, still in her parka, was soon stifling from the heat of the stove, but as the room filled up, she had no elbow room to remove her coat. One of the cats jumped up on the table and began sniffing her coat and her face. She let her hand drop to its marbled fur and it purred and took her gesture as an invitation to settle onto her thighs.
Meanwhile, furs and scarves and quilted fabric brushed by her and she wondered that people didn’t singe themselves on the hot stove as they wished Charlie Demintieff farewell. Yana’s debilitated lungs labored harder as the room filled, the lack of oxygen smothering her. She began deliberately taking deep breaths as first one and then another of Charlie’s friends and distant relations stepped up to crowd around him near the stove, envelop him in a furry hug, and step back away to make room for the next person. Yana couldn’t imagine having so much family.
Clodagh stood among them, not as tall as some of the men but distinguishing herself by the space around her. Her hair, Yana noticed, was quite beautiful, cloaking her shoulders in shining black waves, the black of a hue that somehow was not too harsh with the woman’s fair skin. Her cheeks were pink with the heat now and she was perspiring freely, glowing like some benevolent “un. She didn’t appear to be as old as Yana, and yet she effortlessly carried an air of the kind of authority generally conferred only by well-seasoned maturity.
Just as Yana thought she was going to have to fight her way through the crowd for air or black out, people began filing back out the door with last goodbyes for Charlie, and suddenly it was the four of them again, Clodagh, Charlie, Bunny, and Yana.
“We have to hurry,” Bunny told the dejected-looking young officer. “1 need to drop the major and get you back.”
“Okay,” he said.
Clodagh put something in his hand with a soft pat before he pulled on his mittens. As they were leaving she said, “Major Maddock, will you come to supper tonight with Bunka?”
Yana nodded and waved, and turned back toward the path between the houses to face four excitedly yapping dogs strapped to a low sled.
“Climb in, Major,” Bunny said.
“You’re kidding. There’s not room for all of us.”
“You ride, and Charlie can drive. I’ll run along beside,” Bunny said, “just as far as your place.”
Yana looked at the low, insubstantial-looking sled and the four wriggling, whimpering dogs, who were having their pointed red ears and muzzles scratched by a kneeling, sad-faced Charlie Demintieff. Their faces looked more like those of foxes or cats than those of the dogs Yana had seen pictured. Their coats were very thick and their legs fairly long and muscular, but their paws were covered in little booties. Every time one of them could get close enough to lick at Demintieff, it did.
“How far is my place, anyway?” Yana asked. She had not formed an impression of any vast distances within this town; on the contrary, the snocle rides had been brief.
“Just down the road,” Bunny said gesturing. “But you’re not used to the cold and …”
“And I’m an invalid?” Yana asked, hitching her muffler up higher on her nose. “The dying woman, eh? Not dead yet, Rourke. Not by a long shot. You take Charlie back-and Charlie?”
“Dama?”
“Don’t forget to look up Master Sergeant Threadgill and tell him what I told you.”
Charlie nodded once, briefly, his chin set. Bunny tumbled into the sled and settled herself for transport while Charlie, one last time, whistled to his dogs, who obediently trotted off toward the company station.
Yana sighed, sending a plume of her breath up against the crisp blue sky, and began trudging in her heavy gear in the direction of her new quarters. Damn Giancarlo anyway. If he wanted her to spy for him, did he have to start off by doing something that, if the truth were known, would alienate the whole village from her? Of course, there was always the possibility that he, like Yana, had had no idea that Demintieff was one local boy who happened to be stationed close to home because he wished to be. But Giancarlo should have known before he went off half-cocked. If this assignment had any significance at all, he definitely should have had Demintieff checked before he decided to replace him. That kind of rashness could blow this mission.