Mist hung above the lake like frozen breath. It clung to the high pines encircling it, but dipped low in the center, nearly touching the solid, clear surface. It hovered there like a translucent mountain range, until two figures broke the illusion by gliding out onto the ice.

"Papa would be cross," the girl said, shivering despite her layers of woolly pullovers, scarf and mittens, and a cap pulled low over her face. Her eyes were huge and dark like empty caverns in the whiteness of her skin. They made her look younger than she was, almost childlike.

The boy took her hand and squeezed it gently. He couldn't wear gloves himself, but even his bare hand was warmer than her gloved one. "Papa is always cross. It makes no difference where we go, or what we do," he said sternly. When his sister trembled at his tone of voice, he pulled her close and rubbed his hands over her back, even though it hurt to do so. "I'm sorry, Asya. But you know you shouldn't worry about Papa."

"No." She sniffed against his neck, and a few warm tears soaked into the collar of his moth-eaten pullover. "I'll stop soon, Vadim. I promise."

"You shouldn't worry about anything now, or it would all have been in vain," he told her, patting her back gingerly. Then he tugged her cap even further down, because the nape of her neck was exposed. "You see that, don't you?"

She pulled back with a sigh. "I know. It's just … he always tells us not to skate when it's near mid-day, because the ice might break."

Vadim sneered, but not at Asya, and she knew he wasn't angry at her. "Do you really think he'd mind if it did?"

She blinked at him. "No, I don't think so." Stifling nervous laughter, she added, "And nor would Mama."

Vadim couldn't help snickering. There was nothing funny about it, really. It was just a touch of hysteria. He took his sister's hand and pulled her along, skating faster and faster, making loops around the lake.

Asya held on to him, a little unsure. Vadim had always been the better skater, but she knew she could rely on him not to let her fall. Soon they were gliding across the lake like wind spirits, pretending not to have a care in the world.

"Mama won't burn any more of your dolls because she thinks you're too old for them," Vadim called out against the wind.

Asya smiled, her cheeks flushing pink with the cold and hesitant joy. "And Papa won't make you work until your hands bleed!"

Vadim skated to a sudden halt, and Asya nearly stumbled into him. "No," he said bitterly, pulling his raw hand from his sister's grasp to hide it with the other behind his back. Sighing, Asya reached around him and brought them both up to her face. She kissed first one, then the other, abused palms rough against her cold lips.

Vadim watched her with an indulgent smile. The cool softness of her mouth felt good, and he could almost imagine it healing his hands. Their mother never would have done such a thing, which was just as well, because a kiss from her might have made them fester.

"There, all better. They'll heal soon," Asya said as if she'd been listening to Vadim's thoughts. She dropped his hands, because she knew he didn't like her to go on about them too much.

"You will too," he said softly, meaning to comfort, but regretting the words when he saw a shadow pass over her face.

"Don't!" Asya sobbed and turned to skate away.

But Vadim didn't let her go. He pulled her close and held her until the sun was as high up in the sky as it would go. Then he wrapped one arm around her waist and drew her with him to the dead center of the lake.

Asya struggled a little, but she was curious too, and it couldn't hurt to be sure.

"Look down," Vadim implored. "Just for a moment."

The ice was not as thick there. Or maybe it was, but it didn't seem that way, because there was more water under it than nearer the bank. There was also more sunlight; the tall pines bordering the lake didn't throw their shadows this far.

They stared down at the glass-like surface far longer than was good for them. It was Vadim who started trembling first. For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to hack away at the ice with the sharp point at the back of one of his skates, but then he heard Asya's voice, and her hand on his back anchored him until his fury melted away.

"Let's go home."

He nodded, his resurfacing anger anaesthetized, but before they skated back to shore, he couldn't resist crossing that spot with particularly harsh, scratching strides.

Asya sighed, but she understood. She took her brother's wrist as they skated to the edge of the lake. Then, while they took off their skates, she talked to him about the end of winter being months away yet. And as they walked the icy path leading to their small pine cottage, she told him that she was going to bake his favorite bread, and they'd have it with some hot chocolate by the fire that night.

Vadim smiled at her attempts to cheer him up, but was only too willing to give in. Going home sounded peaceful to him now. He knew they wouldn't have to worry about what was in the lake until spring, and no one visited in winter. But he didn't think they should go skating anymore either. Especially not at mid-day, because when the sun is high, the ice might break.

END