Nadezhda
This is for the @hws-anthology Secret Santa exchange! I present to you, my gift for @arachnoidmater! Their request was "anything with Russia" so I hope this is alright ^^'
Pairing: Canada/Russia (not explicit)
Rating: Gen
Word Count: 3512
Featuring: human and dog OCs, dog sledding, Kuma is a full size polar bear again, and questionable winter camping advice
Summary: Russia takes a vacation to the Chukotka Autonomous Okrug, where he meets an old friend and makes a new one.
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It was a special occasion whenever he came out this far. The travel had become much easier with the invention of planes, but there still wasn’t much out here. Not for him. Not for work. Not anymore.
Besides, it was nice to have something that remained mostly the same.
He made the journey slowly, using a train when he could, and when the train tracks ran out he rented a snowmobile. There weren’t always roads here either —the Chukotka Highway was still unfinished, and wouldn’t extend Lorino even if it was — but in the middle of winter that was not such a problem. There was plenty of snow.
Perhaps one day that would also change.
Thoughts for another time.
He rode all night long. A human would never be able to make this journey the way he did, especially not while carrying winter camping supplies the way he was. Regular camping supplies felt heavy enough until one experienced the weight of winter camping gear. He didn’t want to dig into those just yet, though. He needed to save food for the next part of his trip.
Plus, he liked arriving in the morning. That was half the fun of traveling east. Watching the gradual lightening of his surroundings, feeling the gradual warmth as the sun finally slipped up into the sky. The weather was pleasant despite the season, and it made him smile under the scarf covering the lower half of his face.
He rides all the way into town. People hardly glance at him as he goes by. Without proper roads, snowmobiles in the winter and ATVs in the summer were common forms of transport. He too utilized them when necessary, but he also found them cold. Inhospitable. He craved something else.
He passes many dogs on the ride, some of whom follow him to his destination. They run beside him, tongues lolling out of their mouths as he approaches the wooden building, their home. The bright blue exterior paint has been stripped away in some spots, but the painted sign is legible even from a distance: чуко́тская ездова́я - Chukotka Sled Dogs.
He pulls up to the porch outside. One brave dog approaches him, almost all black besides his stomach and a thin rail of white fur up his nose. He recognizes this as one of the eponymous Chukotka breed sled dogs. The dog puts its front paws in his lap, even with the engine of the snowmobile still rumbling, and licks at his face. This makes Ivan laugh. The dog responds by licking him more enthusiastically. He can hardly see through his goggles now, but that’s alright.
A sharp voice calls, “тень!” - Shadow, and the dog immediately climbs off his lap. A woman with a wrinkled face and long gray hair stands in the doorway. The dog obediently lays down at her feet.
Ivan grins at her. “I assume this is one of the leaders,” he says cheerfully. He stands from the snowmobile, wobbling a little as he readjusts the weight of his pack.
Pulling a rag out of one of her many pockets, the woman gestures for his goggles. The shine of the sun makes Ivan blink a couple times. A few other dogs gather around them. Even more approach the woman, hoping for treats. Ivan assumes this woman runs the tour company.
His goggles are significantly cleaner when she hands them back to him.
“I am Zinaida,” she says.
“Thank you, I am Ivan,” he says, appreciatively. He keeps it simple for now. The woman is not wearing a coat, and he can see she is already starting to shiver. Her skin has thinned with age.
Zinaida nods, and turns back towards the warmth of the building, making it clear she is uninterested in small talk outside. Ivan follows her. The entrance appears to be a singular office, with a small, lit fireplace to one side. Leather hides cover the walls to block the draft. It is sort of like an inside out yaranga. Seeing it makes Ivan both smile and feel deeply sad.
“Are you here for a tour?” Zinaida sits down heavily in a chair by the fire. The wood creams in tune with the crackling of the fire. She picks up a sewing project she must have been working on before Ivan got there. It’s hard to tell what she’s making, but it looks large and warm. She multitasks through the whole conversation.
Ivan drops his sack of camping gear on the floor and sits down in the other chair, quickly removing all his outer layers. Hopefully this will not take long, but it would be worse to overheat. Shadow places himself between them.
“No,” Ivan says, ”I only need a sled team.”
The woman regards him: his fur and leather gear, his content smile despite the season, his stature. She must judge him to be a competent sled driver, because her next question is “How long?”
Ivan watches her practiced fingers pushing and pulling thread through treated leather. Rather than a number of hours, he answers, “Three or four days.”
She frowns minutely. Ivan does not take it personally. A stranger has entered her town and just asked to take six of the dogs she and her family rely on for multiple days into unpredictable conditions without the usual supervision they get. This would give anyone pause.
Ivan knows Zinaida is not the type for spur of the moment adventures like this, but she must sense something abnormal about him. Something in his eyes or the way the light of the fire flickers across his face is something beyond human. After another few minutes of studying him silently, she says yes, to Ivan’s surprise. “Only my slowest dogs,” she specifies, “And I want all of your information before you go.” Her face makes it clear that Ivan will be found personally responsible for anything that might happen to the dogs, or if any of them are not returned. He readily agrees.
An hour later he has a lightweight wooden sled, the kind with a basket for multi day trips. He is grateful to store his heavy camping equipment there instead. Zinaida calls all the dogs in —- Ivan counts 26 at least —and singles out the slowest of them, so if Ivan proves to be a runaway dog thief, they would be able to catch him.
He is introduced to five new dogs: another Chukotka sled dog, one Siberian husky, and three Yakutian Laikas. A few have gray appearing along their muzzle. Ivan wonders if it was a natural coloration, or signs of age. It would explain Zinaida’s assessment that these would be the worst getaway dogs.
Regardless, they are all impeccably trained. “My husband and my son used to handle the dog training,” Zinaida explains as she tests his knowledge of harnessing the dogs. “Now, my son is teaching my grandchildren how to do it.”
Ivan does not meet any of these people before he leaves, but the loving warmth in Zinaida’s voice as she speaks of them prompts him to ask more. “So this is a family business?”
It is the wrong conversational path to take. Zinaida gives a noncommittal shake of her head, something between a physical yes or no. “It is how we live,” and she says no more about it.
“How old are your grandchildren?” Ivan goes for a less loaded subject.
Zinaida’s warm smile returns to her face. “I have five grandchildren,” she states proudly, “one is 14, old enough now that we are teaching him to see the trails so he can lead tours one day. Another is 12. When the 14 year old has learned, we will have him teach the 12 year old on the trails. The others are all under 8. We have them work with only the puppies for now.”
As she talks about her family, Ivan hooks the five dogs onto the gang line. A few other dogs paw at the harnesses, evidently disappointed at not being chosen for this ride. It is then that Ivan notices that there is no lead dog for this team yet.
“Sorry,” Ivan begins, interrupting Zinaida’s story about how one of her brothers once got into a fistfight with a whale, “who will be the lead dog?”
Zinaida glances towards Shadow. The dog waits eagerly by the end of the gang line, tail wagging. Ivan is sure that he is not the slowest of their lead dogs, but Zinaida says, “Shadow seems fond of you,” and so he begins strapping the dog in, more slowly than the others in case Zinaida decides she wants him to take a different dog.
She does not stop him. She merely scratches Shadow’s ear, and says a prayer for their safe travels.
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Nobody bats an eye at Ivan as they leave town, as unsurprised by dog sleds as they are snowmobiles.
The land around Lorino is an open, hilly tundra caught between the The team, used to hunting trips on the ice flows, begin curving towards the beach out of habit. They follow the tracks from other sleds that Ivan can still see, but he wants to remain inland. Ivan gives the command “Le!”, before he remembers the right word. “Ho!” he calls, and the dogs quickly turn. Ivan sees a thicket of trees in the distance, and he aims for those.
The weather remains beautiful in this open expanse of white, and the trees are still quite far. So far they’ve stayed at a relaxed jogging pace, but Ivan gives the command to speed up.
The dogs are zooming across the ice now. Ivan clings to the handle bar of the sled through his mittens and laughs, pure unburdened joy.
They pass many whale bone markers standing up through the landscape. Jaw bones and ribs curl up into the air, reminders of the area’s maritime culture. Further down the path they had been following Ivan spots two other dog teams, this time with hunting sleds, canoes strapped to the backs. He waves to them, still laughing loudly.
It takes an hour to reach the tree line. Here they pause for a light lunch. When Ivan unhooks the dogs two of them immediately begin play-fighting.
“You still have so much energy!” he laughs. When they notice him digging out six collapsible dog bowls, they quickly put aside their differences.
“You burn a lot of energy in this environment, so eat up!” He gives them each one scoop of the high protein dog food Zinaida had given him. It looks like fish mush. It smells like fish mush. It’s probably some kind of fish mush.
The dog’s lick their bowls clean. Ivan is glad for the bread and cheese he packed for himself.
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It was many hours before they stopped to camp for the night. He didn’t have a real destination in mind, so it was a good thing he couldn’t get lost. He could just ride and ride and ride, enjoy the wilderness, enjoy the company. Whatever guides him is something intangible, an internal sense of the path, a path. One that has not been used in a long time. It does not take long to reach a distance where they no longer see any other people.
When Ivan finally decides he’s found a flat enough area among the trees, they stop. This time, the dogs lounge around, having gotten most of their energy out on the way there. Their attempts to play are half-hearted, only the Husky is still in the mood. The others whine with irritation when she tries to engage them. One of the other dogs leans against his legs. They remain as vocal as before. Only the lead dog, Shadow, is still in work mode. He circles around the camp, sniffing everything, assessing, before flopping down right where Ivan had planned to put the tent.
He walks over to try and convince the dog to move somehow. It doesn’t work. Shadow stares up at him with big brown sad eyes, you wouldn’t make me get up and move would you? The plan is abandoned before he even gets a word out.
So the tent might be tilting slightly. Could be worse.
Shadow gets comfy, even curled up in the snow. Ivan stays bundled up as he searches for mostly level ground for the tent. It is most important that the thermal sleeping pads will not shift inside the tent. It will be their first defense from the frozen ground. Their next defense will be heavy duty sleeping bags, then their layers of clothes. The ancillary heat source, their fire pit, he arranges after the tent is situated.
The sun is beginning to set when he hears the echoing barks of a different team of dogs. The dogs around him perk up, curiously. He feels that itchy feeling they all get when another nation is coming closer.
Through the trees, another sled and dog team appears. Someone equally bundled up in furs clings to the back.
The mystery person’s identity is proven when Ivan looks further back and sees the great white bear following behind the sled at an easy pace.
“Hello!” Matthew greets him as the sled pulls up to Ivan’s camp. Pieces of his curly hair stick out from under the edges of his hat, bouncing as Matthew hops off and starts unhooking his own dogs. Matthew has also brought a six dog team, but he recognizes them as an Alaskan Husky, two Samoyeds, two Qimmiq dogs, and a Siberian Husky. Not breeds he’d be likely to find in Russia.
“How did you get all those dogs across the border?” He asks.
Matthew’s answer is cagey. “On a boat,” he says.
“Ahh,” Ivan laughs a little, “‘Illegally’ is what I am hearing.”
“Then you didn’t hear anything,” Matthew snaps back playfully.
“Perhaps I did not,” Ivan agrees, offering Kuma a nose rub as the bear nudges the side of his head. It’s a miracle that the dogs do not freak out at his presence in the camp considering their use in polar bear hunts, but he also knows Kuma manages to be invisible to humans too sometimes. It must be related to that. “What would you do if I did ask to see their papers?”
“I would show them to you,” Matthew answers honestly, “but it’s a hassle to do all that with border guards even for one dog, much less six all at once.” Ivan nods in agreement as Matthew continues, “So it’s just easier to bring them over through port. It’s not that they weren’t declared, I just had each one paired with a different crew member, they did the work for me.”
“Ohh, that’s a clever strategy!” Ivan is not at all bothered by Matthew’s flagrant disregard for the Federation’s pet import restrictions. If the roles were reversed, he would’ve done the same.
It is lucky Matthew picked up firewood on his way. Ivan had expected they’d go the first night without a fire as the wood they would collect around them would need to dry out before it was usable. Instead, they get a fire going then, and the difference in the warmth of the tent is tangible. They leave the fire burning low overnight. It’s not recommended, but Matthew assures him Kuma would wake them up if anything went wrong.
Matthew goes to sleep quickly, slightly behind from the shift in time zones. Ivan sleeps peacefully, lulled by Matthew’s light snores beside him.
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The next two days they spend the daylight hours sledding. They gradually pack down the safe paths. When something appears dangerous they warn each other. Kuma keeps guard. If there were any wild animals who might have bothered them, the bear’s presence keeps them away, although the howling of the wolves at night still spooks the dogs.
When it is dark, they return to the camp they’ve established. They move the warm stones from the fire pit close to the tent each morning to maintain a heat source during the day. There is only one close call with their heat source. Ivan cut a small ventilation hole at the top of the tent so they can keep a candle inside. On the evening of the second day, Matthew accidentally knocks it over. He quickly grabs it, saving their tent from catching fire, but the hot wax and glass burn his hands badly. It will heal by the morning, but for that night Matthew pouts all through dinner.
“This is embarrassing,” he mutters. His face feels like it's burning as much as his hands.
Ivan scoops up another spoonful of their rehydrated rice and beans, “
Matthew opens his mouth to accept Ivan feeding him, but Ivan suddenly jerks the spoon back. He blows gently on it before presenting it to Matthew again. “Sorry, it looked too hot, and I would not want you to burn yourself,” he teases.
Matthew glares at him for a moment, before taking the food. “You’re gonna feed me s’mores by hand too for that,” he declares, “We still have a tent to sleep in because of me.”
Ivan’s smile widens, “Of course. You have earned it.”
They entertain themselves with various means. Ivan packed a couple small books. Matthew brought a pack of cards. During dinner they watch the dogs follow Kumajiro around. Whatever the dogs know of Kuma’s presence, it seems they can sense his body heat. The dogs go from sleeping all in a pile together, to snuggling with the bear. Occasionally Kuma huffs and tries to move away, but all twelve dogs follow him every time.
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The third morning begins as peacefully as the others, but with no small amount of disappointment that their vacation must come to an end. They do not speak about it. They do not have to. It is clear enough in how they reluctantly take apart their camp.
At least they will both be going through Lorino, so they will travel back together. Ivan must return the sled and the dogs to Zinaida, and Matthew’s return ship will leave from the harbor there.
Following the paths they’ve tread for three days now, the travel is faster, even if they don’t want it to be. The two teams burst out of the woods in a flurry of snow and coniferous evergreen needles. As long as they are in the woods they prioritize safety, but now the landscape stretches out around them again, flat and smooth. Ivan glances over at Matthew, the shape of his smile under his face guard. Matthew glances back, and briefly pulls down his face guard. His smile is better described as a mischievous grin when he calls out to his team, and suddenly they are racing away at full speed.
Shadow watches them pass by. When Ivan gives the call to keep pace with them, it feels like Shadow was waiting for it. Matthew’s laughter rings out across the ice when he glances back at them.
The last thing Ivan hears before the wind is roaring in his ears is a loud huff from behind him. Kuma had been keeping pace with them in the woods, but rather than speed up, Kuma starts to walk more slowly. The bear speaks into Ivan’s mind, I refuse to run.
By then Ivan is out of range to respond. He is confident Kuma will be able to find the town if they get out of view, because Matthew must be confident of that if he left the bear so far back in the first place.
Ivan’s dogs are slower than Matthew’s, so his chances of winning this impromptu race are none. When Lorino appears on the horizon, Matthew takes pity and slows his team down, allowing Ivan to pull up alongside them. The ride together into town. Matthew is still slightly ahead, but the fun doesn’t come from winning. Their smiles are equally wide as they stop outside Zinaida’s business.
“Well,” Matthew begins, “Thank you for inviting me to do this.” He does not unharness his dogs, likely planning on riding them to the boat.
“You are welcome,” Ivan answers honestly, “and you are welcome to come with me anytime.”
Matthew smiles sweetly. “Maybe we’ll make this an annual trip,” he adds.
Before Ivan can agree, Zinaida opens the door and the loose dogs rush towards her. Even as she turns away to keep them from jumping on her, she looks at Ivan appreciatively. Her relief at having all the dogs returned safely is palpable. Later, Ivan will offer to cook dinner for her and her family as another thank you.
A ship blows its horn to announce its approach, and Matthew interrupts, “I had better get going now, but seriously, thank you for inviting me.”
Ivan grabs his sleeve before he can get going. “We will do this again,” he states.
Matthew smiles, and calls “Hike!” to his team. Ivan watches them speed away.
“Did you have a good trip, then?” Zinaida asks behind him.
“Yes,” he answers, cold air burning his lungs, “Yes I did.”
