It's Not Like You Would've Let Me

~Natakha~

Boys had always been a pain in Natakha's backside.

And it wasn't surprising to her at all that that Dmitri and his annoying brother were nothing different.

Hackles raised, she barged in through the door to the carriage, only to find the two blockheads lying on the two lower bunk beds on either side of the right wall. Zhanna was by her side in a second, and both of them were breathing hard because of their rising temper.

Dmitri and Stanislav, who had been laughing before, stopped to stare at the girls for a solid ten seconds, before breaking out into raucous laughter once again.

"Oh," said Dmitri, in between laughs (howls, actually), "the guards are back in the pack house since all the werewolves are safely in the carriages. Did I forget to mention that?"

His mocking tone made Stanislav laugh harder just as much as it fuelled the girls' anger, and Natakha thought that if it were humanly (or rather, werewolfly) possible, the two dafts in front of her would see steam billowing out of her ears; she was that angry. Beside her, Zhanna's heavy breaths assured her she wasn't alone in that.

But then, without warning, the carriage gave a mighty lurch, and both the girls barely steadied themselves. The brothers momentarily stopped guffawing.

"Well, it's about time the carriages started moving," Stanislav commented.

Dmitri nodded. But before he could say anything, Natakha marched up to him and stomped her foot. Zhanna did the same to Stanislav, who lounged on the lower bunk bed on the left corner as opposed to his brother on the right.

"Get. Up," Natakha seethed, punctuating each word with a deadly glare.

"Uh huh. And why should I do that?"

At that, Natakha lost her cool.

"Because you can't take both beds like that, you numskull!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air exasperatedly.

Dmitri and his brother exchanged cool looks, then laughed.

"Yes, we can," Stanislav said simply, eyeing Zhanna mockingly before looking back at Natakha.

His brother swiped at his eyes dramatically. "You girls want to sleep on beds, you're going to have to sleep on the upper bunks."

He pointed to the bed above him. Stanislav mimicked him while Zhanna glared daggers at him.

The carriage wobbled on a stray stone on the road and the girls stumbled.

"Or you can always take the sofa," Dmitri snickered, settling in the bed and pulling the covers over his head. His brother followed suit.

Natakha thought her head might blow up at any time. She pulled Dmitri's covers back roughly, gripped his wrist and yanked him up hard.

"Now you listen to me," she said painfully slow, eyes glaring daggers into his, "you will get up, right now, and move your mindless-self up that ladder on your brother's bunk."

She continued to glare at him, but he yanked his wrist back harshly, staring at her coldly for the first time that afternoon.

"You don't tell me what to do."

He then sat up on the bed on his knees, and for a second Natakha thought he was actually going to get up, despite himself. But he just leaned forward, blew the light off in the lantern and went back to bed. Natakha stared at his covered form, unable to believe the temerity he had. Zhanna, too, who had been standing with her arms crossed on her chest, felt her jaw unhinge in disbelief.

After extinguishing the flame in the lantern, Dmitri had plunged the carriage into darkness. Low snores sounded from where Stanislav slept, and Natakha suddenly felt drained. She did not have the strength to fight with Dmitri when sleep beckoned to her, but she still didn't want to give in to him and accept defeat. She turned around, eyed the sofa which turned out to be just as rickety as its table, bumping with every little jolt of the moving carriage. Sleep would never have come to her even if she had laid down on it. Besides, the sofa only had space for one person; Zhanna would then have no option but to sleep on the upper bunks, and if either of slept on them, it meant giving Dmitri the upper hand.

Natakha sighed, exhausted. The subtle rocking of the carriage back and forth was beginning to lull her to sleep, what with all the radish salad she had had for breakfast that morning, coupled with the exhaustion from the sleep deprivation she had suffered the entire week at her mother's hands. She eyed the bunk above Dmitri, then the one above Stanislav, and then finally Zhanna. One look at her friend's expression told her that even she did not have any ideas. It was decided in that look then; they had to sleep on the upper bunks.

Natakha sighed once again, making her way to the ladder on Dmitri's bed. When she reached it, her eyes fell on the water carton Stanislav had brought in earlier. Grabbing it, she climbed up the ladder. As she settled in, she took a sip from the carton, and when her tongue tasted the water, she realized how thirsty she was. She downed the bottle in one breath and pulled it away from her lips, only to notice it was still half full. Turning to her left, she saw Zhanna lying in bed on her side, facing her.

Natakha gestured to the bottle, silently asking if she wanted some, but Zhanna just shrugged. Natakha stared at the bottle in her hand, then at the floor from where she had picked up the carton, feeling too lazy to climb down the ladder to put it back again. But just then, an idea struck her, and her eyes lit up.

"Psst," she whispered to Zhanna, who had closed her eyes by then.

"Psst, Zhanna!" she whispered again, and Zhanna's eyes flew open.

"What?" she mouthed.

"I've got an idea!" Natakha mouthed back, pointing to the bottle in her hand.

Zhanna stared confusedly as she watched Natakha lift her covers to keep them aside, and rip a tiny hole in the mattress with the dagger she always carried with herself. As she watched on, Natakha lay the carton horizontally on the mattress with its mouth directly above the freshly ripped hole. Zhanna's gaze travelled down, and she saw that the hole was roughly above Dmitri's chest. As soon as she realized what Natakha was doing, a laugh escaped her, which she barely managed to muffle behind her hand. Below her, Stanislav grunted in his sleep. Natakha looked at her, smiling mischievously as she lay back down, one leg placed on the carton. Then she covered herself with the covers she had kept aside before and waited. Zhanna held her breath as she saw the covers dip a little near Natakha's leg when she squeezed the carton with it.

It was like everything was happening in slow motion.

A big glistening drop of water fell on the bed below.

And Natakha and Zhanna waited with baited breath when another drop fell from the carton, right on Dmitri's face.

"What the hell..." he grumbled groggily, touching his face with his fingers and bringing them in front of his eyes in the dark carriage.

He rubbed the pad of his thumb on the liquid gathered on his fingers.

And shot up in his bed.

"It's raining?!" he exclaimed incredulously, staring up at the wooden ceiling of the carriage to see no trace of water.

He then felt the bottom of the bed above him for the source of water; it was dry.

Natakha pretended to stir from her sleep, as if he had awoken her.

"What's happening?" she asked, feigning a sleepy voice as best she could.

Dmitri stood up from his bed to look at her confusedly.

"You tell me that. Water fell on me from your bed just now."

Natakha sat up straight, discreetly moving her leg away from the carton so more water wouldn't leak.

"It did?" she asked him softly.

He narrowed his eyes at the sudden change in her demeanor.

"Yes, it did," he said, slowly, suspiciously. "From where, is what I'm asking."

Natakha looked at him sheepishly before staring at her hands in her lap. Internally, she was having a ball.

"I uh- I-"

"She has a condition," Zhanna interjected, looking at a baffled Dmitri with a solemn look on her face.

"What condition?" he asked, looking from Natakha to Zhanna.

"She has a weak urinary sphincter," she told him with seriousness in her eyes that shone in the dark. "Natakha, I've told you so many times, businka, not to have water before bed."

With that, Zhanna turned to face the wall and pretend to sleep, for she couldn't contain her smile any longer.

Natakha ventured a look at Dmitri, but regretted it as soon as she did, because the dumbfounded look on his face made her feel like the laugh she had contained for so long would burst out of her that very second. So, she stared at her lap again.

"You mean to tell me," Dmitri started when he finally seemed to find his tongue, "that that thing that fell on my face, was your pee?!"

Natakha gave him the slightest of nods, though she still did not look up for fear of giving the prank away.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, trying her best to sound genuine when all she could think of was how hard she wanted to laugh in his face.

Dmitri just stared at her, his mouth hanging ajar.

Natakha finally dared to look at him and say, "I really am sorry, Dmitri. I should've told you about my problem and that it wasn't safe for me to sleep right above you."

She paused, then said, "But then it's not like you would've let me sleep in the bottom bunk anyway."

She shrugged, and pretended to pull her covers over herself again when he stopped her.

"Listen, we can't do much about this today, but from tomorrow," he pointed at Zhanna, "she's sleeping above me and you're above Stanislav."

Natakha widened her eyes at him dramatically. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

He eyed her suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

She stared at him for a good few seconds, heightening the suspense that so densely clouded his features right before her. Then she said simply, "Zhanna has gas."

Dmitri's jaw unhinged again.

"What?"

She nodded. "It usually starts when she's in deep slumber."

As if on cue, a fart sound erupted from Zhanna's corner and Dmitri whipped his head in her direction, unable to believe how the morning's events had changed tide.

Natakha discreetly turned her head in Zhanna's direction and burped silently, internally thanking her mother for the radish salad she had had for breakfast that morning.

Below the seemingly asleep Zhanna, Stanislav grunted again.

Dmitri looked at him, before eyeing the girl sleeping above him, and his features morphed into a look of disgust, nostrils scrunched.

"You know what, on second thought," he muttered, still staring at Zhanna's back, "you should sleep where you are, and your friend can join you on the bottom bunk tomorrow."

He then disappeared beneath her as he sat on his bed. She heard the covers rustle for a minute, after which silence ensued, and Dmitri had finally settled down for the day again.

Natakha shuffled in bed, facing her friend, who too, turned to face her, and the victorious glint in each other's eyes was the last thing they saw before sleep took over them.

*****

It was pitch dark inside the carriage when Natakha's eyes opened, and it took her a few minutes to get her bearings; she had left home that morning, she had reached the pack house, and she had boarded the hunters' carriage. Lying on her back, she let out a long yawn and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, turning her head to see if anybody was awake, but all her eyes took in was darkness. Sitting on her knees, she crawled to the end of the bed, carefully letting her hands feel their way till the end of the bed where they grasped the edge of cool wood, then leaned forward and yanked the curtains back.

It was not much of a difference, but the moonlight that filtered through the barless glass window let Natakha take in her surroundings better. She crawled back and sat up straight, moving to the side of the bed so that her legs dangled at the edge. Looking up, she saw a sleeping Zhanna lying flat on her stomach. She let out a yawn again.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Natakha sat up straighter with a frown, wondering who it could be. She then noticed that the carriage was not moving; maybe they had reached wherever they had to. What was the place where the Ball was being held, again? Perm? Abakan? Ekaterinburg? She couldn't remember.

Swinging her leg over the rung of the ladder, Natakha started her descend, and saw that Dmitri was still in deep slumber. She had just hit the floor when the knock sounded again.

"I'm coming," she said, not too loudly to wake the others up, but not too softly either to not be heard by the person who knocked.

The metal of the door's handle was cold under her hand when she twisted it to open the door to an old man with round framed spectacles and a white goatee who looked at her impatiently, though he tried to hide it behind his practiced politeness. From what appeared to be the evening's biting cold wind greeted her.

"Good evening, miss," he said to her in a brittle voice, "I'm your coachman, Igor Bykov."

"Good evening," she replied.

"The carriages have been halted for today, in this clearing. You and your fellow companions," he gestured to the carriage, "are required to gather in the second carriage for the pack elite in no more than five minutes' time."

Without another word, he bowed his head in courtesy and took his leave. Where she stood when the coachman left, Natakha saw a small grassy clearing in front of her before it gave way to a thick forest which she supposed surrounded them from almost every direction except the one they just came from, and the one they were heading to. She saw the coachman step up the steps to the carriage behind theirs before she shut the door.

"Who was that?" said a voice from her left and she jumped.

Zhanna laughed.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," she said, sitting on her bed, propped on one elbow.

"No, it's fine," sighed Natakha, putting a palm on her still fast beating heart as she went to stand in front of Zhanna's bed. "I just thought you were asleep."

"I was, before I heard the sound of that extremely quiet door," Zhanna said sarcastically. "So, who was it?"

"It was our coachman, Igor. He said he wanted all of us," Natakha gestured to the boys who were still asleep, "to meet in the pack elite's carriage."

"In the pack elite's carriage? I thought we were supposed to shift and travel in wolf form at night?"

"I don't know," Natakha shrugged. "I thought that, too."

Outside, she heard the sound of feet on ground; perhaps the other hunters were already moving to the elite's carriage. Zhanna removed the covers from on top of her, and was about to jump off the bed when Natakha stopped her.

"Don't jump," she whisper-shouted, "you'll wake them."

Zhanna frowned, still poised on the bed as if she would jump any second.

"But, don't we have to wake them?" she asked, as if it were obvious. "They're hunters too, you know."

Natakha opened her mouth to reply when she suddenly stopped, mouth still half open, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Yeah, we have to wake them," she said slowly, eyes shining now, "but what if we don't?"

The suggestive undertone in her question did not go unnoticed by her friend, who slowly smiled back at her before moving to the ladder on her bed and climbing down.

Natakha grinned at her as soon as she was on the floor, and then grabbed her elbow and tugged her to the sofa where they had taken off their overcoats. They then stood facing the boys, each of them sound asleep, their chests rising and falling rhythmically. Eyes still on them lest they should wake up, the girls began undressing, for their clothes would rip to shreds if they transformed into wolves still wearing them. When their bodies were completely bare, they wrapped themselves in their huge overcoats, glancing over at the boys every few seconds.

But they were still too deep in sleep to be disturbed.

When she was done, Natakha slipped on her shoes, put a finger to her lips to Zhanna, and tiptoed to the door. Zhanna followed. Then, as quietly as she could, she pulled the door open inch by inch, trying to not make it creak.

But, it creaked anyway.

To their left, Stanislav grunted. Both the girls froze. She turned her neck so slowly that it was almost imperceptible, but then noticed that he was still asleep, and so was his brother. Her shoulders sagged in relief. Behind her, Zhanna let out a sigh.

"The number of times this daft grunts in his sleep," she muttered under her breath irritably.

If she had not had to concentrate on the creaky door, Natakha probably would have laughed at her friend's comment. Instead, she pulled the door open again, bit by bit.

As soon as the gap was big enough for her to slip through, Natakha held it firm in her hand.

"Hold it tightly, just the way it is," she mouthed to Zhanna.

Zhanna nodded, replacing Natakha's hand with her own.

Natakha then straightened up, sucked in a huge breath and side stepped through the gap. When she was out, held the handle for Zhanna to come through.

"Come on," she whispered to her while Zhanna glanced behind her, but neither of the boys had awoken. She mimicked Natakha's side step and she, too, was out.

They closed the door and jumped onto wet grass around the carriage, before breaking out into a fit of laughter, making their way to the carriage in front of theirs.

"I swear to god, Natakha" Zhanna said, clutching her stomach as she laughed harder than she could control, "you are the craftiest person when it comes to teaching people a lesson."

Natakha just slung an arm around her friend's shoulder, laughing too much to say anything back.

"But really," said Zhanna, consoling herself, for they were then stood outside the second carriage for the pack elite, "those boys really had it coming when they messed with you, didn't they?"

Natakha took in deep breaths to calm herself, but her cheeks still hurt from laughing as hard as she had been.

"Of course they did," she winked, before climbing up the steps to the carriage and letting them in through its half open door. "Gotta see how that smart-mouth makes it to this meeting."