Dawn was at hand.

Feliks knew this by the colour of the sky, as he glanced up through the thin branches of the forest trees. Although it was summer in Siberia, leaves were sparse and the permafrost still hard beneath their fur boots. Summer never truly came; it was a thing in books, of lush greenery and hot afternoons and rotting fruit. Here they only knew it by the thawing of the stream near The Cottage, and the sightings of creatures.

But they were not anywhere near The Cottage now. He and Aleksander, they were miles away through the woods.

            "Do you hear that?" asked the squib boy, his pink nose peeking out from the hood of his downy coat. They spoke in Russian.

"Yes," Feliks replied, the two stood in a clearing, otherwise quiet. "We're close." A clear sound emanated from somewhere ahead - it sounded like a river. If they reached the river, they could follow it to the train station where Aleksander's cousin waited to collect and take them to Moscow. They had arranged it all by writing to him in coded letters.

The boys were running away. They were dressed similarly, bundled up, and Feliks had even altered his appearance to resemble his friend - giving himself dirt brown hair instead of red curls, and the tawny colouring of Aleks' skin. In Moscow, they would pose as brothers.

            "I'm going to climb that tree," Aleksander suddenly exclaimed, running up to a tall one with obliging branches. "To see where the river is, yes?"

He was taller than Feliks, and a couple of years older. Unlike Feliks, Aleksander had grown up in Moscow with his family so he seemed worldly and more confident. "Are you sure?" Feliks asked, worried, looking up. He spotted a lammergeier circling above the treetops.

Aleks did not heed the question and began climbing at once, with strong and sure movements. He was impatient to end their journey, which had begun as soon as everyone in The Cottage had gone to sleep last night. They had been planning this for weeks. Aleksander for longer: he had plotted with his cousin the moment they suspected he might be a squib, and sent away.

Feliks was grateful to be included in the plan, though he knew it was because Aleks wanted someone who knew their way in the woods. He looked around the clearing nervously - they had not run into wild animals but he was aware of the possibility.

A scream, suddenly, and Feliks twisted just in time to see Aleks falling. He landed with a muted thud and a crack! as his leg caught in the branches on the way down.

Aleksander was still screaming by the time Feliks reached him, kneeling. His leg was twisted into an unnatural angle and something sharp was sticking out of the wool trousers; with a sickening lurch in his stomach, Feliks realised it was bone. He grabbed his friend's hand, saw that the squib was crying.

            "Do something!" Aleks sobbed frantically.
"I don't know what to do!"  Feliks didn't want to touch the leg, he could barely look at it.
           "Use magic! Anything! Feliks, please!"

Magic?! He didn't even have a wand! Any spells he heard the Sisters use were domestic spells, for cleaning or potions. He'd never been around to watch them mend bones. "We have to meet my cousin" Aleksander urged, and the hopelessness of their situation was driven home in that sentence.

They weren't going to make it in time. He couldn't fix this. The only thing he could do was make the long trek back home and fetch the Sisters. Something of this must have shown in his face, because Aleks squeezed his hand so tightly it hurt.

            "No," the other boy shook his head, mumbling through tears. "I d-don't want to g-go back!"

His mind raced. Maybe he could go on ahead and apparate back with the cousin. Before Feliks could make this reply, the leaves above them rustled noisily. He glanced up and immediately sprang to his feet. The lammergeier, a large bearded vulture, came swooping down from the canopy with outstretched wings. As it approached the forest floor it suddenly grew long and tall - taking the shape of a striking red-haired woman.

Sister Masha, from The Cottage. She wore her usual emerald green robes over a white night gown - her blue eyes were clear, cold and clearly livid. Feliks stepped back in fear.  Sister Masha was an animagus! Aleksander fell silent.

The witch looked at them both for a moment, one after the other. "I must say, you got farther than I expected," she spoke in a crisp voice before adding to Feliks: "Put your real face on, child."

He did.

Aleksander's leg was examined and mended before Sister Masha apparated them back to The Cottage grounds. Inside, the two boys were given a milky barley kasha while the other children watched from the stairs. Sister Masha and Sister Larisa questioned them in the kitchen - questioned Aleks, rather. They knew better to try Feliks, who had grown up here and did not break as easily.

The boys' plan was easily exposed. Letters would be written to Aleksander's family and the Almasy matriarch who would handle the breach of etiquette. The squib was sent upstairs. Sister Larisa snapped her fingers at Feliks and he knew his particular fate.

It was still morning when he was led out of the main building, past the Sisters' cottage and into the small wooden one near it. This was the isolation cabin. It was a small one room affair with a cot bed, iron stove and a window that overlooked the stream.

"Why isn't Aleks being punished?" Feliks demanded as the Sister shoved him in. Spindly and severe, she gave him a knowing look. "Aleksander is new. You are not, and you should have informed us," she stood in the doorway, framed by the light outside. He hated her, suddenly, overwhelmingly. The windows in the room shone brightly but he did not realise.

"Feliks..." Sister Larisa's expression softened. "You could not have gotten away like that. Your mother would not have liked it."

She shut the door and locked it from the outside. Furious, Feliks kicked at it. He knew it would not give but he had to do something, so he kicked at the door again and again, until his legs ached. They always said that! That his mother would not have liked this or that or whatever. But they never told him anything about her, or his father, or where he came from.

The boy wizard strode to the other side of the room and dropped to the floor. He flipped up the corner of a rug, prying open a loose floorboard. Underneath, a concealed box contained writing materials. He took out a sheet of paper and some colour pencils. The isolation cabin wasn't meant to have anything to help pass the time but he and the other children snuck things in when they could.

Feliks started drawing the scene in the forest earlier. The drawing was artless, crude. He knew he would have to burn it in the stove later anyway. It was the summer in Siberia and he was not yet nine years old.