Maya takes a deep breath as she steps out of the door; inhale and exhale, because this is tension-free, peaceful air. No one here is rushing about, worrying that they're going to be killed. No one here is griping about the food in the mess or the stiffness in the bunks. No all-encompassing sense of doom and gloom. Just the sun, trees, the lake, grass -- and Piotr Nikolievitch.

She smiles and she starts making her way toward him, the wind catching the tails of her coat.