Their faces were both broad with smiles, and Miķelis noticed the two of them had similar faces as they sat up.
“Why didn’t you write to tell me you were coming?” Kristiāns asked.
“I wanted to surprise you,” the other trainee replied. “It took me longer to find you than I expected, though.”
“What do you mean?” Kristiāns asked, getting to his feet.
“I’ve been here for over a day,” the other trainee replied, following suit.
“Well, this is a big camp,” Kristiāns said. “I mean, there’s over six hundred tents.”
“And since six hundred and twenty three of them, I’m presuming, are full, that’s almost two thousand five hundred people, not counting officers and anyone else,” the other trainee said.
“Wait, what tent are you in?” Kristiāns asked.
“I’m one of two in tent six hundred twenty four,” the other trainee replied.
“What!?” Kristiāns exclaimed, grabbing his head with both hands. “I’m the tent right beside you!”
“Six hundred twenty three?” the other trainee asked.
“Yes!” Kristiāns exclaimed.
“And I couldn’t find you!?” the other trainee exclaimed. “I should’ve just started knocking on neighbouring doors!”
“That is ridiculous!” Kristiāns cried. “You were here yesterday afternoon?”
“Yes,” the other trainee replied. “We spent an entire night practically side-by-side and didn’t even know it!”
Kristiāns placed one of his hands spread out across the forepart of his scalp. “I can’t believe it!”
“Oh!” the other trainee exclaimed, looking toward Miķelis, his hand over his chest. “Did we knock you over?”
Miķelis nodded.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I was hoping I wouldn’t take anyone else out with us,” the other trainee said.
“It’s alright, snow is soft,” Miķelis replied.
“Oh, sorry,” Kristiāns said. “I probably owe you introductions too.”
“Well, how about I hazard a guess first?” Miķelis suggested.
“What’s your guess?” Kristiāns asked.
“You’re related,” Miķelis replied.
“Yes we are,” Kristiāns replied.
“We’re double cousins,” the other trainee replied with a smile.
“Double cousins?” Miķelis asked. He was pretty sure the term was second cousins.
Kristiāns nodded. “Our fathers are brothers and our mothers are sisters.”
“Oh,” Miķelis said. “I didn’t realise there was an actual term for that.”
“I don’t think there actually is,” Kristiāns admitted. “I think we’ve just, sort of, made it up.”
“Maybe it’ll make its way into the dictionary someday,” Miķelis said.
“Maybe,” Kristiāns agreed. “But, more formally, this is Dzidris Lepiņš. Dzid, this is Miķelis Eglītis, my tent-mate and best friend.”
Miķelis gave a nod. Considering that Dzidris and Kristiāns’ reactions to seeing one another had seemed like those of two young men who were very close, Miķelis had to admit that he was somewhat surprised that Kristiāns was still inclined to call Miķelis his best friend.
“You’ve made a best friend here in two and a half months?” Dzidris asked.
“Yes,” Kristiāns replied. “I’ll tell you the whole thing as we eat.”
Miķelis let the two cousins walk toward the line ahead of him before drifting after them with the few other trainees that had lingered once they’d figured out that they were witnessing a joyful reunion between two close companions.
Pronunciations:
Dzidris: zihdrihss
Lepiņš: lehpihn'sh
Dzid: zihd
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