[tatufreak]

Your wish is my command.

Never.

Wild grey shapes loomed out of the fog again and again. Above, greens and blues meshed and grew together, surrounding the shrubs that stayed low to the ground. Powerful, towering trunks soared out from around them, silent and sky-scraping - the forest was half an uproar of colours and growth, half a beautiful but eerie place; a living tomb.
But the winter had come, and the snow drifted down through the shrivelled leaves and the curly dead branches. It cushioned and quieted, bringing the mighty trees to silence and surreal expectations. Christmas was coming, the snow was already here.
Far below there were two little boys tussling and laughing. They were honest, happy children with round faces, big eyes and dark hair - warmly wrapped up in their mother's knitted jackets, hands jammed into woolen mittens and feet snug in their 'big-boy boots'; the ones Papa had worked so hard to buy for them last Christmas. Their house wasn't far away - it was a cozy little log cabin, set into a picturesque forest clearing with trees that blossomed in the summer and a smooth, thick carpet of grass, perfect for little bare feet to run over when the weather was right. Nothing smelled so good as that grass in sunlight, the dusky smell and the summer warmth made those two little boys content simply to lie on their backs, breathing the fresh, piney forest air with happy childish contentment.
Now they were busily making a snowman, the 'biggest snowman ever built in the whole wide world!' - and it was almost finished.
The slightly taller of the boys packed another handful of snow onto the snowman's base, glancing up at his brother to give a command.
"Vlad, run to the house and get a scarf and a carrot for him."
As the younger boy turned, the elder straightened up and put a hand on his shoulder.
"This is gonna be the most amazing snowman ever..."
Vladimir nodded, joyfully. "And all because I helped you, Dmitri."
The elder boy smiled, pushing his brother towards the house. "That's right, now run and get the things, we don't want it to get dark before we finish him."
The younger boy scampered off through the forest, leaving Dmitri to pack the snow onto the snowman. "You're huge," he whispered with admiration, "I bet no other kid in the whole world could ever make anything this great!" A thought occurred to him, and he slapped himself theatrically on the forehead. "I forgot to tell Vlad to get a hat! I'd better run and ask Mama for one."
He threw a last glance at his snowman before turning on his heel. The forest was his home, he was completely at ease with it. Weaving through the trees like a ghost, he ducked and twisted mechanically to compensate for obstacles present to him since he was a toddler. It wasn't long before he reached the scrubby bushes at the edge of the clearing, and it was then that he pulled up short.
There were two Jeeps parked outside his house. They had come via the dusty track that led away towards the nearest province town of Syabra, and by the snow just beginning to settle on the bonnet, they looked like they'd only just arrived.
Thoughts and alarms flashed through the young Dmitri's mind. Papa had warned the boys never to come into the house if there were cars parked outside - it was his only strict rule with his children, unquestioned and obeyed. Now the boy was confused about what to do. The cars must have arrived just after Vlad had gone into the house, since the younger son would have never disobeyed The Rule. Now he looked, Dmitri could just make out steam still rising from the car's bonnets.
He quietly made his way behind one of the larger trees, squatting to get a lookout point through a thick shrub. He always did this with visitors, it was nothing more than a routine to him now.
As he rubbed his hands together and stamped his feet to keep warm, his mind drifted.
When the visitors go, I shall go in and have a warm cup of milk, because Mama always keeps the fire going in the winter. And with the milk I shall have one of those rusks she makes, and perhaps Papa will melt some butter onto it for me. I think it's Papa's birthday soon, and it's mine next week, maybe he'll make me a sled that me and Vladdy can share. Of course Vlad won't get me anything, he never does, but Mama always bakes me an extra little cake and says it's from him...I wonder what cake she'll bake for me this year? Only last year it was that one with-
But...but what was this?
The door of the house had opened, waking Dmitri from his thoughts. His Papa walked out first, hands roughly tied behind his back. His Mama followed, and then little Vladdy. All three were tied and bound, and behind them four men with machine guns followed into the fresh snow.
Dmitri's round eyes widened further as he scrambled to get a better look. He watched in confusion as his Papa was shouted at, then forced onto his knees.
Oh, but he'll be so cold in the snow! This is all a joke...it must be...
The lead military man pushed the muzzle of his gun onto the kneeling man's forehead.
Dmitri tried to scream, but his voice choked and nothing more than a strangled squeak emerged. He stared at the scene, frozen. He could do nothing - nothing to stop this terrible thing, nothing to change what he feared was about to happen.
"Pa...pa..." he whispered, tears beginning to fill his eyes. "Papa...what...why?"
Away, far away, the noble man knelt quietly in the snow, his strong face bowed in readiness for what he knew must surely follow. The beautiful, kind eyes - once so filled with love and pride for his two sons - were empty and calm. Nothing could change his fate now, and as his little boy stared at his face he knew that his beloved Papa was already dead; not physically, but in every other respect.
"Good-bye Papa, my Papa," Dmitri whispered, tears shining brightly in his eyes.
Suddenly the calmness of the forest was shattered as a sharp shot rang out into the depths. Birds screamed, and very slowly Dmitri opened his eyes to see that his mother had fainted in the snow.
He half-rose to his feet but one of the military men had already started walking towards her, causing him to pause and draw back. The man leaned down and peered into her face, taking one of her fragile white arms in his big, clumsy hand. He shook her roughly, her eyes opened, he jerked her to her feet.
"Get up," he grunted, and from the forest the watching Dmitri trembled as he lifted a gun to her pale cheek. She very nearly slumped over, but caught herself just in time to the raucous laughter of the military men.
The one holding her glanced at his colleagues before landing a hard punch straight to her jaw.
Dmitri rose to his feet like a shot, but instinct prevented him from running forward to catch his dear mother. She landed in the snow with a soft thud.
The same man gripped her arm and pulled her to her feet, as before. Blood ran down her chin, an ugly bruise was already beginning to show on her delicate jawline. From the forest, her elder son watched as her crimson blood dripped down onto the white snow below, counting every drop with growing horror.
Suddenly the men had had enough. A muzzle was placed onto her forehead, a trigger was pulled, a shot echoed out.
Dmiti uttered a strange moan, like an animal in pain. It went unheard in the retort of the gun, but the four men shivered involuntarily before pulling themselves together.
"No," the watcher whispered, eyes on the fragile little boy lying in the snow at their feet. "Please...please...no..." Tears streamed down his cheeks as he pleaded with the men silently, his desperate cries unheard. "Take me, take me..."
He saw little Vladdy raise his tousled head, round eyes staring up at the four men above him. Four identical muzzles were aimed straight down towards him, and in that moment Dmitri knew, with horror, terror and a grim certainity, that it wasn't going to stop.
The shots rang out again, again, again. The men kept firing at Dmitri's fallen Papa, Mama and brother with a vengeance, set grins on their faces as their fingers tugged the triggers over and over.
Away, cowering behind his little shrub, hidden by his tree, a trembling boy with tear-filled eyes watched them. He shook in fear and horror, but his tears were those of anger. Jaw set, his dark eyes stared - not at the men's faces, nor at his bloodied family, but at their uniforms.
As the hot tears ran down his cheeks, he made a vow. The men kept on shooting, Dmitri couldn't tear himself away. He had the face of a vengeful angel, a child with the soul of a wrathful god.
"You will pay. You will all pay." This through gritted teeth; this promise-curse from the very depths of his soul. "You will all pay."
The shots continued, they doubled in speed, Dmitri put his head into his hands. The shots echoed louder and louder until the boy grew dizzy. He felt like he was falling, going insane, still they grew louder as the world erupted into manic blotches of crimson-
"NO!"
The old man sat bolt upright in bed, panting and shivering - his fingers tore at his cover, stiff and clenched...cold sweat ran down his forehead, his eyes were wide and terrified.
Somewhere outside an owl called.
He leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands and letting out a tortured sigh.
"Will these dreams never end?"
The moon came out from behind a cloud and surreal, dark light filled the room. It shone off a mirror on the opposite wall as the man lifted his face, catching his white-haired reflection.
I'm just an old man now, he thought, great tears running down his careworn cheeks, soft as silk and wrinkled with a thousand lines. I kept my promise, and I regret it every day...hate can never save you....never.