Even after leaving the dead soldier behind us, I couldn’t escape from the memory of his face. I had seen carcasses before. I had tended to them for years, suturing torn skin and reattaching missing fingers.

This was different. With the damage the bullet had done to his head, the man wouldn’t be coming back, and I was glad for that.

A towering hewn-log building rose before us, crowned with a large aspen-shingled dome. Yuriy ran past us and hurried inside, Vanya and I following at his heels. As I stepped inside, the doors closed behind us with a deep, solemn thud, blocking out the distant shouts.

Overhead, a circular amber-glass window allowed light to come in. At the rear of the temple, a wooden statue of the Goddess was adorned with fresh flowers and goldwork tapestries even more ornate than the rushnyk I wore around my waist. An offering basket of guelder rose branches rested at the idol’s feet, the boughs drooping under the weight of red berries and green leaves tinged an autumnal crimson.

Women, children, and elders crowded the vast hall, withdrawn and silent. The majority were dressed in loose, black garments like Vanya’s, embroidered with metallic threads along the sleeves and hems.

I gnawed my lower lip, my thoughts straying to Mikhail. He shouldn’t have offered to cause a distraction, not with his injured shoulder.

Yuriy sank against a pew, sobbing violently. I felt so bad for him. I wanted to do something. As Vanya caught his breath, I walked over to Yuriy and placed my hands on his shoulders. Although he was only thirteen, he was almost as tall as I was.

“Are you all right?” I asked, forcing a smile to let Yuriy know he was safe now.

He nodded wordlessly. Teardrops cut lines through the streaks of blood fanned across his cheeks. His eyes were a dark, velvety brown; wide and terrified, they reminded me of a doe’s eyes just before I pulled my musket’s trigger.

I searched my pockets for a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his face. When I couldn’t find one, I settled for using the corner of my rushnyk instead. I gently blotted up the blood; the rushnyk took it all in, leaving not a single trace of red on his pale cheeks.

“All gone,” I murmured.

Yuriy gulped hard, staring at me. “Thank you.”

Vanya came up to us. He glanced down at my soiled rushnyk. “You aren’t going to use that blood for a spell, are you?”

“I told you, I’m not a koldunia!” I said, exasperated.

“Don’t believe her, kid,” Vanya whispered loudly to Yuriy. “She’s definitely a koldunia.”

A weak smile trembled on Vanya’s lips as he looked over to see my reaction. If he was trying to be funny, his joke fell short. His body shook with rapid, heavy breaths, and his pupils were swollen with fear.

“Keep calling me that, and I’ll put a curse on you,” I said, glancing up in concern as a volley of gunfire rang out. “This building is all wood. If the Otzvuk come here...”