He told her that you could predict the weather by watching the behavior of animals. “If birds are flying high, there is good weather ahead, but when they come in low it’s to avoid a storm. Sheep and cattle will get skittish and spiders will leave their webs and seek shelter just before rain arrives.”

Maria was enchanted by this folk wisdom, so he told her all the signs he had noticed that indicated it would be a cold winter that year. “The pine trees make larger cones when there’s a rough winter ahead, and squirrels build thicker nests.”

“How do they know?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“They just do.” He shrugged.

Each day he would point to a landmark on the horizon and suggest they try to reach it by sundown, but Maria struggled to keep up with his pace. Sometimes he put her on his back and carried her for a while, as he had when he had rescued her, but the going was steep and he couldn’t manage it for more than an hour at a time.

They reached a small hamlet of a few houses, but did not stop because Peter said strangers would be remarked upon there. It was only when they arrived at the outskirts of Perm that he decided they could rest. He spotted an abandoned shed in the remote reaches of a farm and they stayed there for a day, eating strips of dried meat he had brought for nourishment and bathing their feet in a trough full of rainwater.

The next morning, Peter left Maria for an hour to look for some clothes, and she cowered behind an abandoned tractor, startled by every slight noise. She knew she must get used to being alone, because the following day they had agreed that he would travel into the city to call upon her aunt Ella. There might be Bolshevik guards posted around the house, who would no doubt recognize Maria, so he would go alone to see how the land lay.

When he returned, he was carrying armfuls of clothes. “I stole them from a washing line. I feel bad, but at least I chose a house where they seemed reasonably wealthy.”

Maria held a skirt against herself. It looked about her size, but when she tried it on she could not get all the buttons to fasten. A blouse would not close across her chest. Even the petticoat was tight.

“I think the excellent food you served in the Ural Mountains has caused me to put on weight,” she said, patting her belly. “I have become fat little bow-wow again—that’s the name my sisters used to call me.” She became aware that Peter was giving her a strange look. “What is it?”

“Don’t you know what’s happening?” he asked softly. She shook her head, mystified. “You are with child.”