[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/jedPqym.png[/img][color=black][h1][sup][sup]✜[/sup][/sup][/h1]"I cannot forecast to you the action of Russia. It is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma: but perhaps there is a key. That key is Russian national interest." - Winston Churchill, First Lord of the Admiralty, 1939[/color][/center]

[color=gray]All the bustling sound of much bivouac activity echoed through the darkness as the Host flagrantly and boisterously began to make camp. Shuffles of feet against the hard snow and conversations that distracted the minds from their habits turned the melancholy tunes of the a long-winded travel and deadened night into a lively performance of some ancient dance that only the true elect of the Holy Rus could have inherited.

Mishka and Vasily with their large frames, bodies like bears, began to chop wood for the fire, while Andrusha and Bogdasha unloaded the cart in order to prepare the tents. Two large bundles of cloth and wood were carefully unleashed and slid out from between the side rails on each side of the cart, and the large cotton walls were slowly unravelled from around the wooden poles which would form the spine of their nights dwelling. Though custom and propriety would typically dictate a separate arrangement dwelling for Annu and any other females along for the journey, the spartan necessity of this journey’s proceedings and the intense cold dictated they all stay together, despite the unpleasant physical and also perhaps socially unseemly odor of the men, for the heat of the group would do much to insulate them against the cold. Ivan laid out his accoutrements and began chopping vegetables to add to the stew’s pots. which had been unleashed from the wagon of the group. Horses were tethered to nearby trees and amidst the smoke, Dmitri surveyed the horizon. It was long and full of hard earned victories.  This land was of the Zeporozhian’s sabers.

Dmitry thought to himself that it was a good place to set camp - the cloudy moonlight afforded a good view from the top of the hill, and the tall, leafy trees (standing straight and strong with snow upon them) nearby offered good cover so that their caravan and group would not be as visible from afar. As it were true that they were technically in their own territory, the Hetman was verily aware that this was still the borderland, and any illusions of safety were only fleeting and guaranteed by the blade of the [i]shashka.[/i] 

As the form of the [i]palatky[/i] which would form the group’s temporary shelter against the cold began to arise from the softly packed snow, Dmitry looked over the landscape with his telescope, traded many years ago in Riga from a curious old man in exchange for the net efforts of a long and arduous quest which shall be revealed at a later date, and in his peering out was relieved that the horizon seemed largely uninhabited and empty. A small cluster of small farmhouses was visible some distance away, with a few more small tenant huts and cleared land scattered about. Anyone hostile to the host inhabiting these dwellings would be hard pressed to muster any attack and more than likely terrified to do so, given the number and strength of size of men in Dmitry’s camp.

Having found satisfaction with the surroundings and breathing calmly knowing that the likelihood of a sudden skirmish was slight tonight, Dmitry turned his attention to the preparations underway for after the day’s long trek, he was eager to being discussing the pending journey with his advisors and enjoy a mug of grog and a hot bowl of stew, and he wanted to ensure that the steps necessary for this to occur were happening at the appropriate pace. Now, with eagerness to set the tone for the nightfall and to ensure that his men did not become too lazy with that passionate demon of sloth or lose sight of the goal, Dimitri began to issue orders in a stern but firm manner, reminding all the men that their duty was to the group, and that even if their task was not called out that a certain pace and rhythm needed to be followed, to ensure that the opulence of the camp was set forth and upright before their hunger and the evening turned too sharp or that a delay of the night might spill over into the next day.

[color=silver] “Mishka! Chop the smaller trees to the north, they will go faster and fuel the fire more quickly! Vasily - bring the wood to bogdasha and begin preparing the fire - the sooner you do, the sooner we all eat! [i]Bogdan![/i] — good work with the tent poles! if you keep up the pace I might loan you my spare fur for the night!”[/color] The orders continued sporadically as Dmitry paced and considered the agenda for the evening’s discussion, as well as the taste of the stew he would soon be consuming. He also considered the situation of the young lady who had inspired the particular mission. He knew she was a fierce and adventurous lady, who was happy to help make camp - and who might even be offended if not included in the proceedings, but he also knew that she had had an extremely rough few days after a rough few months of strife and so the time alone would be good for her to gather her strength for the journey ahead.

As men sometimes do in their own different ways, Dmitry could feel remorse for the young lady’s sufferings, despite his opinion of her companion who had found himself at the end of another man’s [i]shashka.[/i]  By the looks of the scene, the Hetman, having lived so many years in his upbringing as a Cossack could find no surprise in the death of the man’s pale and lifeless skin predictably slain during a Cossack battle. However, it was true that Dmitry was not a cold hearted man and understood that The Zeporozhians were a much tougher group of folk with higher standards and capability (why look at good ole Mishka!). This was not to say that he thought lower of the precious Annyu and all her nuances (or some such), because he would not have allowed her this token opportunity to join the Host  if he thought anything less of her.  She was of the right stature and frame and wore her determination in the colors of a mitten still holding fast to her [i]shashka.[/i] even amongst the merriment of his dearest, most cherished men.

Quietly considering the proceedings of their current journey further to himself, all the while less quietly continuing his role as timepiece to the camp making, Dmitry continued his pacings and considered the topics which required immediate discussion during the evenings meal. Certainly, the plans for the evening defence and for the next days travel should occur. Less certainly would be the talk of their discussions with Ivan Ivanovich, leader of the Donets river Stanitsa of the Host. It was important to have some manner of plan in this matter, but such discussions would better be held in a less conspicuous and more circumspect manner, owing to the sensitivity of the plans and the fact that the most critical Annushka, while seeming sincere in her desire to shift allegiances and join their clan, had still yet to fully prove her her loyalty to her new allegiance in a more meaningful and significant way, and until then, Dmitri was cautious of discussing anything which might compromise the greater struggle with the Raskolovici as, while this particular journey, while relevant, had only a smaller part to play. Of course, also to be discussed would be more mundane manners such as the necessary supplies to obtain from the [i]Torgovetsi[/i], Boris and Elisaveta, the additional details of the next days journey, and so on and so forth. Having tallied a mental list for the evenings proceedings, and his appetite gaining more strength, Dmitry turned his attention to the silhouette of Annushka, who seemed to be meditating on her current predicament whilst perched atop a nearby log. Sensing that it would be best to provide some encouragement and reassurance that her presence was indeed a good thing both for herself and for the entire Host, and that she was making the correct decision in breaking with her recent past and trusting herself to his band of less-than-savory characters, Dmitry began to walk slowly but purposefully in her direction.

[color=silver]“Annushka!”[/color] Dmitry called out as he neared the young lady stewing chillledly on her log, [color=silver]“I certainly welcome the clarity of a frozen winter evening but I do not think [i]Marena[/i] needs any help tonight in bringing us a chill!”[/color] he jested with a laugh as he placed his boot firmly on the other end of Annushka’s makeshift winter-queen throne. Pausing for effect, and taking in a deep but lighthearted breath, he let out a sigh before hitching up his [i]Sharovary[/i] and slowly to her left to inquire of her current state and mood. Glancing carefully at her face and posture, for signs of her current temperament Dmitry turned to her and began with a simple but direct question - [color=silver]“So, How are you holding up after the day’s Journey?”[/color][/color]