BY THE TIME WE REACHED VLADIMIR’S, I WAS FEVERISH AND DIZZY, ALMOST FALLING TWICE ONCE I WAS OUT OF THE CART. THE OTHERS LEFT FOR VILNOV TO CONTINUE THE search without me. I stayed at Vladimir’s house for a week to recuperate: from exhaustion, from my injuries, from the trauma of someone trying to kill me, and from losing Zasha — words I could hardly bring myself to say.

It was a strange week, filled with fitful sleep, nightmares, hopes, healing, and a sense of being lost. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or awake, like the time with eyes wide open I petted Thor, asked him how the puppies were doing, and called him Zasha.

Our friends kept us apprised of their efforts. They searched every place they could think of between the cabin and Vilnov, but found nothing. Polina suggested that they go back to Sviritsa, track down where Axel had been sent, and demand answers from him. No one supported the idea. I appreciated her determination, but also understood it was an indication of desperation, that it meant there were no more leads to follow.

During that week I often walked along the shore of Lake Ladoga. Summer was in its full glory, the skies filled with birds, the cold blue water rippling in the wind. It helped me to think, to come to a decision I knew I had to make. Finally, late one morning as I sat on the shore watching storm clouds blow off to the west, I decided I was going back to Leningrad. Immediately. And I was taking Thor with me.

My decision came only after accepting the fact that continuing to search for Petr and Zasha was a waste of time. If they hadn’t been found by now, there was a reason. If Petr was alive, he would contact one of us as soon as he could. If we never heard from him, I had to accept what that meant, too. It was possible I would never know what happened. It might remain a mystery that haunted me forever. My heart ached at the very thought of them.

Vladimir promised to contact Taavo and my friends in Vilnov and let them know I was returning to Leningrad. I reminded myself that we would be separated by only seventy-five or eighty miles. How far from home it had felt that first night when we knocked on Miss Galina’s door; another world, a million miles away. They could visit, maybe meet Alik and Misha — that is if … I wouldn’t think about that now.

I struggled a lot over the decision to take Thor. Selfishly, I never wanted to be separated from him again. He was my rock, my companion; he was my tie to Zasha and the memories of our time together. Some might argue that to take him from the home he knew on acres of beautiful countryside was wrong, especially considering we’d be living in an apartment in Leningrad. But our world at the cabin had been shattered; it would never be the same. It might hurt Thor even more if he was separated from the one person who most loved him and had been a constant in his life.

I was forced to confront another difficult truth. I was sixteen now and had lived my life independently since I was twelve. There was a good chance that living with my mother — who might still think of me as her twelve-year-old Ivan the Not-So-Terrible — would be too difficult for either of us. I smiled as I fantasized about living in Auntie’s old apartment, since she wasn’t ready to return to the city yet, and my mother living downstairs in hers. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea; close to each other but with some distance. First I had to find out if our apartment was even still there. Thor’s presence would create an extra challenge because of her allergies to dogs and cats.

Many tears were shed as Auntie and Natalya bustled around the kitchen, packing food for our trip. Neither of them thought it was a good idea, and they didn’t spare me their strongly worded opinions.

“It’s too soon,” Natalya said firmly. “Let the government get some systems in place to support reconstruction.”

Auntie agreed. “For all you know, you’ll be homeless by tonight! How will you eat? Where will you sleep? Who knows if any of our friends survived?” She looked troubled, and she was right when she demanded, “What about water? Electricity? Food? I don’t think it’s fair to Thor, either.” That stung a little, but I knew Thor and I belonged together, now more than ever.

“It can’t be worse than when we left, Auntie,” I argued. “No one will be bombing us night and day.”

“Yes, it could be worse. You’ll be trying to make a life in the rubble and destruction they left behind.”

“You’re right,” I said quietly. “But they did leave. We won. I want to help Leningrad heal, and I think … I think it will help heal me.”

She sighed in frustration and continued preparations for our trip. Vladimir seemed to understand more, and simply went outside to prepare Nesa for our drive to the departure dock on Lake Ladoga. How different this crossing would be from the one Auntie and I made in the frozen winter of 1941!

There wasn’t much time before we left; I was not looking forward to our final good-byes. I sat down on the sunporch to do the last thing left to do before my journey home: write a letter to my mother.

My mother and I had exchanged only one letter each in three and a half years. Because of my involvement with the partisans, it had just been too dangerous. Although illogical, I felt guilty about it, even angry sometimes because it hurt not to be able to communicate with her.

I sometimes dreamed that she’d just show up at the cabin one day. I’d look down the long drive and there she’d be, waving to me, smiling, calling my name. Axel’s reappearance had destroyed that dream. At least for now, I didn’t want her near the place where such an awful thing had happened. Maybe it was a weakness in me that I couldn’t accept half a dream — just me and Thor to welcome her, without Zasha — but it was more than I could face.

I’d almost trained myself not to miss her. Almost. As the possibility of seeing her came closer, the yearning that had been bottled up in me threatened to rise up like a flooded river to overwhelm me. I had to keep that contained for just a little longer.

Thor wandered out onto the porch and sat beside me. He had a way of finding me when he knew I needed him. I petted him for a few moments and felt the soft brush of his fur through my fingertips. Finally, I picked up the pen.

Dear Mama, I wrote. The pen hovered above the paper for a long time before I put it down. I picked it up and put it down several more times before I realized it was impossible to tell her in a letter what I really needed to share with her. It would have taken a book, one that started on the dark, cold morning we parted and ended when Petr and Zasha disappeared. I needed to look in her eyes to even begin to explain why I was going back to Leningrad now without her and to tell her all that had happened that made that decision inevitable.

And what about her? I wondered. We’d heard stories that when the factories were moved to the Urals, many had been set up outdoors as soon as the equipment arrived, but before buildings were found to house them. I’d been thinking so much about myself that I hadn’t stopped to fully consider her sacrifices. Would I find her exhausted, worn out? Old before her time? We’d missed out on each other’s company for three and a half years. She’d missed seeing me grow up. There would be a lot of catching up to do.

It wasn’t only Leningrad that had been under siege. The lives of all of us had been held hostage, starved, and ravaged by the war. Now it would be up to each of us to figure out how to take what had been broken and put it together in a way that fit the new realities that faced us. But I was ready to accept that challenge.

When I arrived and knew that our apartment was still there, I would write to her. From Leningrad. It was time to go back to where I’d started — my life had come full circle.

I petted Thor one last time and stood up. “Come on, boy. We’ve got a long road ahead of us. It’s time to go home.”