ZASHA’S BARKING SOUNDED ALMOST HYSTERICAL. THOR HOWLED AND BARKED IN RESPONSE. AS I RAN TOWARD THE BARN, I HEARD THE MUFFLED SOUNDS OF MEN GROANING, moaning, and grunting as they do when they’re engaged in hand-to-hand combat.

I burst through the door and my worst fears were confirmed: Axel Recht and Petr were wrestling on the floor.

“Ivan! Get his whip!” Petr cried. I couldn’t see it in the dim light. “By Zasha.” The words were almost unintelligible as he gave all his strength and attention to his struggle with Axel.

There it was! I ran around the two men, resisting an almost overwhelming urge to jump on Axel’s back and help Petr. I picked up the whip, gripped it tightly, and with all my might I snapped it at Axel. A second before it would have sliced his back, he rolled off Petr. The tip of the awful thing caught the top of Petr’s boot, but even that much made him scream in pain.

“You!” Axel screamed. “You filthy, thieving scum!” He lunged for me. I lashed the whip again, but Axel knew his weapon and knew how to avoid its sting. He dove onto the floor toward me, like he was sliding on ice, and knocked me over. I heard Zasha squeal. I must have hit her as I fell, but it all happened so fast, I couldn’t be sure.

Axel was on his knees, crawling on top of me, where I would have been trapped and pummeled by endless blows to the head if Petr hadn’t taken the whip I’d dropped and looped it over Axel’s head and around his neck. There was a gurgling sound as Axel felt the leather noose slip around him. Instead of grabbing the whip, he turned his head to the right, tilted it up, let his body go loose, and slipped to the floor and out of it.

He was on his back. Before he jumped into a standing position, he lashed out with his heavy-booted feet and landed one kick on my right hip and another in my ribs.

“Agggg!” I cried, certain I’d heard something crack.

Axel lunged for the whip that was still in Petr’s hands. Petr held on tight with his left hand and smashed Axel hard in the face with his right, not the expected blow to the chin, but a fist held high and brought down hard on Axel’s nose.

Axel screamed as blood gushed from his face. Then, like an enraged bull, he put his head down and charged Petr, pushing him backward until he tripped and fell. As Axel raised his boot to stomp on Petr’s stomach, I remembered the knife in my boot. I was up and had it out in seconds. Petr was rolling like a log to get out of the way of Axel’s foot, and as he stood up, grabbed a hoe that was leaning against the wall and swung it wide. Axel ducked just in time to keep from getting his head smashed in. The whole time we fought, Zasha barked and barked, but never attempted to join in or intercede.

Petr swung and missed again as I approached Axel from behind, knife in hand, ready to do whatever was necessary. The whip was at my feet. In an instant I flung it up into the rafters toward a small loft where we stored hay. It disappeared. I had to do it. Axel could do so much more harm to us with it than we could possibly do to him.

“Ivan — take Zasha and run!” Petr yelled as he swung the hoe again. The agile and battle-hardened Axel avoided it easily, then spun around toward me, grabbed me by the wrists as if the knife weren’t there, and swung me around so that we had traded places, putting me in the direct line of Petr’s next swing. Petr must have seen it in a flash because he let go of the hoe as if it were on fire, and it merely hit my shoulder on its way to the ground.

As Petr rushed past me to attack Axel, he screamed again, “Take Zasha and run! Save Zasha!” Axel was crushing my wrists; I could see his clenched teeth and feel the shudder of his arms. I would lose my grip on the knife in a few more seconds and it would be his. Remembering what Polina had showed me that day in her basement, I pulled Axel closer to me, put my head down, and then butted him under the chin, hitting him hard enough in the windpipe that his hands loosened. He choked for breath and was momentarily rendered helpless.

Still holding my knife in my hand, I ran to Zasha, took her by her collar, and was going to make a run for the side door. She pulled against me, still barking, as if her fear was too great for her to move, especially in her state. I was vaguely aware that Petr and Axel were again engaged in hand-to-hand combat, Axel obviously having regained his breath.

“Zasha, please,” I begged, as she fought against going anywhere. I would need all the strength I possessed to get her out of that barn. There was a rope hanging from a nail just a few feet away. I grabbed it, but to tie it around her collar I had to take the knife out of my hand. For the briefest moment I laid it down close to my knee on the floor. With the knot secure, I reached down for my knife just as another hand snatched it away. It was Axel. Petr was on him in a minute, and they tumbled to the floor.

Something in Zasha’s mind changed, because she was suddenly pulling me toward the door nearest us.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” In a quick backward glance, I saw that Axel had the knife in his left hand; that was good, because Axel was right-handed. Petr was astride him and had the advantage, but Axel still managed to free his arm enough to swing and cut Petr’s left upper arm. By the sound of Petr’s cry, it was deep and painful. Hitting his target made Axel lose control of the knife, and it clattered and skittered over the rough wooden floor.

Petr screamed at me. “Go!”

It was then that I made a terrible mistake. I hesitated. Zasha was at the door, more than ready to leave. But I couldn’t abandon Petr to the vicious Axel; I had to help him.

I rushed to the other side of the room to get the knife. An iron hand gripped my ankle as I neared it, and I fell fast and hard to the ground. It must have been the angle at which I fell, or the handle of the hoe, or … I’ll never know. Whatever my head hit, it knocked me unconscious.

When I woke, it was dark and quiet. For a moment I couldn’t figure out where I was; then it all came back to me. But why had Axel left me alive? Or maybe he was on the run, chased by Petr and Zasha?

“Ahhh,” I moaned as I moved. In the panic of the fight I’d ignored my injuries. My ribs now reminded me something had probably been cracked, and my hip hurt so badly where Axel had kicked me on the joint that I limped when I was finally able to get to my feet.

“Petr!” I called. “Zasha!” It was too quiet; I knew they were gone. “Think!” I commanded myself, breathing weakly, feeling nauseated. Thor, I thought. Get Thor. Get Auntie’s pistol. Find them. Kill Axel.

I limped to the house, holding my ribs and moaning with each step. When I was within ten yards of the cabin I heard Thor whine and then bark. It was the sweetest sound in the world; I had to stop myself from weeping.

Once in the house I went first to the kitchen, throwing water on my face. Ignoring Thor’s cries, I went to the living room, took Auntie’s gun out of a cabinet, filled the empty chambers, pocketed the extra bullets, and tucked it in my belt. I grabbed Thor’s lead from the hook where it was kept near the front door. Finally, I opened the door to the bedroom where I’d kept Thor.

He bounded at me, practically knocking me down. He yelped and cried and licked my face until I did weep, but only for a moment. Wiping my eyes with my sleeve, I said, “No time for that now, Thor. We have to find Zasha and Petr.”

First we went to the barn. There on the floor was what I was looking for: the knife that Auntie had given me, the knife that had injured Petr. I wiped the bloody blade on the straw where Zasha had lain. I tried not to think of the fact that it was Petr’s dried blood that still stained the blade when I slipped it into the sheath sewn to the side of my leather boot.

I didn’t know which direction to go in, but something told me that if Petr was being chased, he would have run with Zasha deep into the fields and into the forest, not toward the road. That is, if it was Petr who had the choice, if he and Zasha were still alive.

I had Thor’s lead in my left hand and took the pistol out of my belt with the other. If I saw Axel, I’d unload every bullet into his evil self.

That chance never came. I combed the fields. After trying to be quiet and stealthy for the first half hour, I began to call out Petr’s and Zasha’s names. No answer came.

Then Thor seemed to pick up a scent and dragged me down a narrow path into the woods. He must have smelled Zasha. There were no signs that I could read to tell me if they had passed this way. It wasn’t like a detective novel where drops of blood or torn bits of clothing conveniently point you in the right direction.

We walked deep into those woods for an hour. Dawn had come, but revealed little. When we came to a stream, Thor drank deeply and sat down, staring across it. Then he looked at me as if to say, They’re gone.

We turned back, walking in a zigzag pattern to cover as much ground as possible. There was nothing. Later, as we approached the cabin, I knew what I had to do. Axel might be dead … or he might be alive. I was no longer safe here.

It took me ten minutes to gather a few things for my journey and feed Thor. I looked around the little cabin that had been my home for three and a half years and said good-bye. It was the third time in my short life that I was forced to leave a home where I was happy and wanted to stay.

Thor and I took a side path south. It might take an entire day, maybe more, to reach Vladimir’s house. I didn’t care. It was our only choice. It was our only hope. I might have to run away at this moment to save Thor’s and my life, but as soon as I reached Vladimir’s I knew he and Auntie would help me formulate a plan to find Zasha, to find Petr, and if Axel was alive, to find him, and if necessary, to kill him.

I wouldn’t stop until it was done.