15Dmitri opened his eyes.
The cabin was almost totally enveloped in blackness save the shreds of moonlight peeling by the window as the train slipped by the world.
There was a scratching noise, ragged breathing. This was what had woken him up.
He looked down beside him to Alexei cradled in his arms. His eyes were closed, his face flushed. He was gasping for air, shivering.
“It’s okay, Alexei,” Dmitri whispered in his ear. “You’re only dreaming.”
He ran a hand over Alexei’s forehead then through his soft hair.
Their bodies felt so warm wrapped together under the blanket. A distant memory began to develop like a photograph in front of him. There had been a warm body, a hand running through his hair . . . and a voice singing softly.
Alexei moaned, his brow furrowed as though he were in
