Young Writers Society

As soon Nikolai told Mel that she could sleep on the couch, she plopped on down and got comfortable, laying down and snuggling in with the quilt.

"It's perfect," she said, even though it was a tad bit frumpy. "Feel free to wake me up in the morning if you're awake before I am. Good night!"

Was she shooing him off to bed so that he could be well-rested and get ready for their trip tomorrow? Maybe.

Mel seemed perfectly happy without Nikolai getting the pillows, even though he’d been worried those might not be enough. Still, he nodded, laughing a bit at her enthusiasm. “Don’t mention it,” he said with amusement. “As we say here, cпокойной ночи— good night.”

He cleared both of their mugs, setting them down in the kitchen. Nikolai took the candle with him, and the light of the small flame disappeared down the hallway, leaving the main room in darkness. He placed it on his nightstand when he got to his room, and he pulled the sheets over himself before he blew it out. He spent a short minute staring at the shadows the moonlight was casting on his floor, finally processing everything that had just happened.

Nikolai might not have gotten much sleep if he was fully aware of how wild and risky the things that were to follow might be. But he was tired, and he couldn’t begin to imagine all the future events before his eyes slid shut.



The hint of sunbeams had replaced the moon’s glow when Nikolai’s eyes opened again— the sun rose fairly late in the winter, but the promise of more light was there. It seemed like it was barely dawn, but that was a pretty reasonable hour to wake up at this time of year.

Nikolai was still tired, though, so he was planning to go right back to sleep for another hour—

Wait. Mel’s in the living room.

He rubbed his eyes as he sat up, yawning. He’d almost forgotten she was here. Well, now he had to get up and be responsible and awake. The universe was making some pretty bold demands this morning.

Once Nikolai had changed into his normal clothes, smoothed his hair out, and felt awake enough, he opened his door and stepped out into the hallway. He felt hungry, which reminded him that he was also supposed to make breakfast for both of them. And not burn it, which was bit of a difficult goal. Hopefully Mel wouldn’t judge his cooking too harshly.

It seemed like it was going to be a long day.

It didn't matter how many hours of sleep Mel had; whenever the sun shined through the window, she always woke up. And that was exactly what happened when she woke up on Nikolai's couch.

She slowly sat up straight and stretched. "Good morn—oh," she said as she looked around and realized he was in his room. The sun was just creeping over the horizon, but it will be high up in the sky in an hour. Maybe. She had no clue if winter effected it, because she never really experienced a winter... which she was glad for, really.

Mel felt her stomach rumble, but she had already eaten her vegetable bar last night, and she was rather hungry for something filling. Shaking off the last amount of drowsiness, she stood up on the floor and stretched as high as she could, feeling her skin prickle with goosebumps with the chilly air. It was rather cold... and it didn't help that she was wearing a skirt.

Maybe Nikolai had extra clothes she could wear...?



By the time Nikolai sauntered out of his room, Mel was sitting on the couch eating a piece of bread she found in the kitchen, "reading" a book that was in a language she didn't recognize, and dressed in clothes that were definitely not hers.

She had found an old closet with faded clothes that she assumed used to be his clothes, which she was grateful for anyways because he was much taller than her. The faded black pants she wore was rolled up so that it'd fit in her boots, and the red plaid long-sleeved shirt was clearly too big, but she rolled up the sleeves and tied off her waist with a cloth belt. Mel also tied back her curly hair with a white ribbon she had in her bag.

"Oh hi, good morning!" she said as she closed the book and flashed him a bright smile. "Your books are, like... weird. I've never seen symbols like this before."

She twirled the book in her hand and then ate the last bite of bread.

"Hope you don't mind I took your clothes and ate," she said as she covered her mouth so he wouldn't see her speaking with food in her mouth.

Nikolai hadn’t exactly been prepared for this sight. He paused in the doorway between the living room and the hallway, blinking repeatedly as if his tired eyes were lying to him. After a moment he realized that yes, Mel actually was wearing his clothes from a couple years ago, when his family had moved back to Russia.

It was strange seeing them again. He was aware they were still around in the house, but he hadn’t touched them in a long time ever since he outgrew them. It might’ve been a good idea to trade them with someone, since he had no siblings to hand them down to, but they’d never gotten around to that. And so they’d stayed in some closet for years. But Nikolai still recognized the ones she was wearing.

“Ah, um— glad to see you’re comfortable,” he said hesitantly, looking her over. Comfortable? More like thriving. Mel seemed to be living her best life.

Also, she’d found some bread and was happily munching away at it. Good for her.

“I see you’ve got something to eat,” Nikolai added. “Does that mean you’re afraid of my cooking or that you’re just a little extra hungry?”

"Oh! Yeah," Mel said as she looked down at her outfit. For a second there, she had forgotten that she was wearing some of his clothes she found in the closet. She hoped that he didn't mind that she had folded and put away her uniform in his closet for now.

"Thanks for letting me borrow your clothes," she said with a smile, even though she never really asked him for it. "And pffft, I bet your cooking is better than mine. The bread is pretty tasty, if you baked that. I don't even know how to bake, so, hah."

"Alright, understood. The bread isn't actually mine, though, I don't know how to make it. There are a couple bakers in the area, and most people buy their bread from them."

Nikolai wasn't even sure where to start with all this, and that was all he could think to say. He didn't mind that she'd borrowed his old stuff at all, it wasn't like he needed it more than she did. He couldn't help but worry about her choice of an outfit attracting attention though, since most women in this time would wear dresses and skirts, not trousers. Maybe that changed in the future, since Mel hadn't commented on it. Hopefully no one they encountered would make a bit deal of it.

He stepped into the kitchen.

"Let's pray I don't ruin this," he muttered just loudly enough for her to hear as he went looking for the flour in one of the cabinets.

Oh. So Nikolai didn't bake.

Mel shrugged in response. If anything, him saying he got the bread from bakers was better because it meant he left the cabin and (maybe) had friends. Seems he was more exciting than she thought!

She left the squiggly language book on the couch and then bounced up to the kitchen next to him, hand behind her back as her new baggy clothes sagged even more when she stood.

"Oooh, watcha makin'?" she asked curiously, watching him look for an item.

The phrase “watcha” sounded odd to Nikolai’s ears, but he was able to guess it was some weird pronunciation of “what are you”, due to the context. How strange.

“We call these blini. It’s a popular Russian dish, similar to—” Nikolai kept forgetting the English terms for things, so he cut himself off until he remembered what he meant to say. “Um, my father compares them to pancakes, but savory ones. Sugar’s kind of hard to come by up here. Unless you’re royalty. Have you heard of strawberries Romanoff?” He kept searching in the cabinet. “There’s a reason the dessert is named for the rulers. They’re the only ones with the luxury of it.”

Once he’d found the flour, he stood up and set it on the counter before he turned and made eye contact with Mel.

“Speaking of czars, I’m about to make a royal mess out of our breakfast.”

It was sort of entertaining listening to Nikolai talk sometimes. Mel didn't know what a blini, Romanoff, or czar was, but it was fun to hear him talk about it. It was like they were speaking in code, even though at this point she knew that he was speaking in another language she didn't understand. She decided to not tell him that almost all other languages were dead in the future.

"Hah!" she said through a grin when he said a joke, even though she only understand half its context. "It's okay, I'd gladly eat food for a queen or a peasant. Food's food, am I right?"

She leaned against the counter, humming in though as she stared at the flour in front of him. She hoped he didn't expect her to help out, because if he said he was clueless, then she was a lost cause. Cooking was not one of her top skills. She could make toast and boil water, though.

"Pancakes, though. I've had that," she said with a nod. "But they're made out of potatoes, aren't they? You said this is made out of strawberries?" She didn't really pause and wait for him to answer. "Oh, and sugar's also rare in my world -- I mean, in the future. I only really get to eat sweet treats during holidays or events, or when my friend sneaks them to me. I'd spoon sugar in my mouth if I could get a bag."

Too much talking again— it wasn’t annoying, though it was a bit overwhelming. How did one say so many words per minute?

“Well, the blini themselves are made out of flour, and they can be served with a lot of different things, and sometimes potatoes are one of them. Honestly, I prefer the smoked fish ones, but since I don’t have any on hand, and no meat anyways—” Nikolai shrugged. “Well, potatoes actually sound fairly good right now. How about those with mushrooms for our blini?”

He moved the kettle from last night out of the way and lit another fire.

“Strawberries Romanoff are something else entirely, a dessert with berries and this sweet, chilled cream. I’ve only ever heard of them. Unless I suddenly marry into the royal family, I’ll almost certainly never have anything like them.” He shot Mel an amused look. “I’m not planning on that, though. What a shame it’s not more common in the future— it’d be nice if everyone could have that one day.”

It was fairly interesting to hear Nikolai talk. Mel wasn't fully absorbing everything since he kept mentioning things she didn't understand, but he looked to be lost in his own little world, and she didn't mind listening to him talk. She often liked to hear people talk about what they were interested in... although, it sounded like he wasn't too interested in cooking, so who knows.

"Sure!" she said to whatever he offered. She still didn't understand what a blini was, but she was going to find out.

Without asking, she lifted herself on an open part of the counter and dangled her legs, swinging it back and forth as he did all of the work. He seemed happy to make this dish, but if he looked like he was struggling, she'd offer to help in any way she could.

"What, you don't have dreams of marrying into royalty?" she joked.

If she remembered right, royal blood lines were common in this time period, and she remembered all the old stories of princesses and kings and queens and princes. She wondered how much exactly they were true and how much was fiction.

Nikolai had found a pan that looked like it was a skillet and had set it on the stove.

"Well," he said, shrugging in response to her question. "I mean, can you think of a better way to draw national attention? Which is exactly the kind of thing that I want to be avoiding." He chuckled. "Being royalty would have its benefits, though, I can admit. Like getting fancy desserts. But if I ever married at all— not exactly planning on that lately— it wouldn't be for those reasons."

Mel shrugged. "I guess so," she said as she continued to swing her legs against the counter.

She had no idea how marriage worked in the past, but if it was anything like her current time, then it sounded like Nikolai didn't want kids. Totally understandable. They seemed like a hassle, although they were kind of cute. Plus, kids out in the middle-of-nowhere-cold sounded like a form of torture.

"What would you do if you didn't have to be cooped up in here?" she asked. "Ya know, if you could do anything or go anywhere, and people weren't trying to capture you and stuff."

Nikolai wished he could say something like Who, me? Never once thought about that. But of course he'd imagined things being different.

"Um... I'd still want to be an artist," he said, staring at the stove with a look that had grown slightly distant. "I'd have a lot less to worry about. Maybe I could live somewhere more interesting."

If he was to be more honest and give a more in-depth answer, though, that meant his answer was going to get a little more personal than he'd like it to. Right now, he didn't feel like focusing on everything persecution had taken away from him and how his life would be without it. That was depressing.

Which made Mel's question pretty painful to think about.

"What about you, got any dream life plans you've wished for?" Nikolai asked without making eye contact.

Mel continued to swing her legs while sitting on the counter, eagerly nodding when Nikolai answered. Of course he'd still want to be an artist; he was good at it, and literally magically gifted.

He also wanted to live somewhere more interesting. Believable. Because this place seemed dreary and sad, not to mention cold.

"I've got a decently sized list of jobs I could choose from when I graduate," she said in response to his question redirected back to her. "But I think if I could do anything, I'd also want to live somewhere more interesting."

She sat still for a moment then dramatically straightened out her arm in front of her with her palm facing out, slowly moving it across to gesture around her.

"Imagine," she said. "Real skies, a hot sun, salty water, bugs that can bite you. Rain and muddy days, and the freshest air you've ever breathed!"

Mel set her arm down and smiled at Nikolai, swinging her legs again.

"More interesting than this cold and dark place, huh?"