Word Count: 48,007
Summary of Events:
Gavriila watched Nikita work with the stallion they'd captured about a month before, then was told by Nikita to do some work with Nadia instead of always watching him. Nikita took his sword to the smith for repairs, along with bringing the sword he'd gotten from his father for hopeful identification; the blade wowed the smith, but he couldn't give Nikita any answers, so Nikita asked Gavriila to read the writing on the sword — being as it was written in a language Nikita couldn't read. They broke camp again and were delayed by the fact that several soldiers couldn't catch their horses, so the General ordered Nikita to start a horsemanship class so they wouldn't have such delays again — and especially not at more pressing or dangerous times. Gavriila went out to visit Nadia and with Nikita's aid discovered Nadia had thrown a shoe and discussed Nikita's recent sullenness.
Excerpt of the Day:
""Blessed be this blade's possessor: Ilya Mechislavavich Zhihondoniov-Vaylizhenkiva, eleven, twenty three, eighteen fifty two," Gavriila finally read aloud. "What do the numbers mean?"
"It's a date," Nikita said.
"There's no twenty third month," Gavriila said.
"No," Nikita agreed. "But Father said the Aissuresky write the date with the month first, then the day, and then the year, whereas we switch the month and the day."
"So the twenty third day of the eleventh month, eighteen fifty two," Gavriila said. "Is that the birthday of this Ilya?"
"Maybe," Nikita replied. He felt shaken, though. That was his birthday. That day, that month, that year. The only thing that was different between the two of them was their names. That was too much of a coincidence for comfort. . . .
. . . Quickly Lieutenant Kharondirev pulled out the nail. Nadia curled her head around with ears laid back and bit at Lieutenant Kharondirev, but didn't catch him.
"Nadia!" Gavriila scolded. "That's not nice!"
A smile crossed Lieutenant Kharondirev's face — the first one Gavriila had seen in a couple of weeks, it surprised her — and he chuckled, a soft and low sound that, although short, sent a strange feeling throughout Gavriila's breastbone.
"Horses don't care what's nice, or not," Lieutenant Kharondirev said. "They are prey animals, and they act based on the threat. If something hurts, they'll lash out as opposed to accepting relief."
He lowered Nadia's hoof and looked at Gavriila. Gently he settled his forefinger under her chin.
"You sounded like a mother scolding her child," he said. "I'd advise you to watch that you don't scold her in front of others or your feminine way with her will be your undoing."
Releasing her chin, Lieutenant Kharondirev walked back to his mare and leaned against her. Gavriila felt a little irritated by Lieutenant Kharondirev's words, although she was sure they were true.
"I'm glad to see you've recovered your former irritability," Gavriila said quietly.
"Irritability?" Lieutenant Kharondirev asked, sounding like he was still in a mirthful mood.
"Yes," Gavriila replied.
"I didn't know that I'd lost it," Lieutenant Kharondirev said.
"You've had all the emotion of a corpse for the past week or so," Gavriila said.
"Oh really?" Lieutenant Kharondirev asked.
Gavriila turned to look at him. "Yes, ever since I read the engraving on that sword to you."
Lieutenant Kharondirev's countenance darkened, but he said nothing.
"What's so disturbing about that sword?" Gavriila asked. "I didn't think it said anything that should cause anyone to be as disturbed as you've seemed over the past week."
"The date," Lieutenant Kharondirev said simply.
"What about it?" Gavriila asked.
"It's my birthday," Lieutenant Kharondirev replied. "The day, the month, and the year I was born."
Gavriila startled. That made sense then. She was sure she would find it disturbing to discover that something had a completely different name on it than her own, but bore her exact birthday."
Ilya: eelyah
Mechislavavich: mehshihslahvahvitch
Zhihondoniov: zheehohndohneeohv
Vaylizhenkiva: vayleezhehnkeevah
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