"Shit," Rudra muttered, glancing between Riley and the girl. "How are we gonna talk with her?"
Riley shrugged helplessly. "Yeah, it's not like she knows English."
The girl blinked, confused for a moment, then said in perfectly clear English, "Well… I do know English."
Rudra froze mid-sentence, eyes wide, palm halfway to his face before he just slapped it there with a groan. "Fucking hell! You could've said something sooner!"
She laughed softly, hiding her smile behind her hand. "You didn't ask," she said with disarming calm.
Riley was already losing it, leaning on his knee. "Mate, you just got reverse-unoed by a shepherd girl," he wheezed.
Rudra exhaled sharply, glaring at him. "Keep talking and I'm feeding you to the nearest yak."
The girl giggled again. "You two are funny," she said, as Riley shot her a grin that tried way too hard to be charming while Rudra just muttered, "This day keeps getting dumber by the minute."
"What's your name?" Rudra asked, tone finally softening a little.
The girl adjusted the scarf around her head, her dark hair catching a streak of morning light. "Serenkhand," she said gently, her accent rolling smooth and melodic, like the wind that skimmed across the plains.
Riley repeated it clumsily—"Seren… what now?"—and she giggled, covering her mouth.
Serenkhand smiled faintly. "Serenkhand," she said again, "it means moonlight jewel."
Rudra nodded, the name sitting somewhere in the back of his mind like an echo. "Moonlight jewel, huh?" he muttered.
Riley snorted. "Mate, that's poetic. She's way outta your league."
Rudra didn't look at him. "You're confusing me with someone who's trying."
He turned to her again. "My name's Rudra—it means storm roarer or something, from the Rig Veda. Wouldn't go into details."
"Call me Red," he added.
"My name's Richard Lee Murphy," Riley jumped in proudly. "You can call me Ri-le-Y."
Rudra blinked. "Geez, your name was that big?"
Serenkhand tilted her head, amused by their banter. "Red and Riley," she repeated, testing the sounds like she was rolling foreign stones on her tongue. "Strange names… but easy."
"Yeah, we aim for simplicity," Riley said, flashing her that lazy grin that usually got him slapped or kissed—sometimes both. "So, what brings a pretty girl like you out here in the middle of nowhere?"
She gave him a look that could strip a man of his ego. "My home is the middle of nowhere," she said, eyes narrowing just enough to make Riley scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.
Rudra snorted. "Deserved."
"Oi, shut it, Red."
Serenkhand stepped closer, curiosity softening her tone. "You are travelers, yes? Soldiers?"
Rudra shrugged. "Something like that. We're looking for a place called Dörvön Khad. Heard it's got… interesting history."
Her expression changed almost instantly—the faint smile vanished, replaced by quiet tension. "That is a cursed place," she said flatly. "No one goes there. Not even the wolves."
Riley shot Rudra a look. "Well, guess where we're going."
Rudra's eyes gleamed faintly in the morning light. "Exactly."
Serenkhand pointed toward the low hills in the distance, her tone casual and kind. "There are still old Soviet camps around here. Some are empty, some… maybe not. It's better to travel when the sun is high. You both should come to my village. My family will make breakfast."
Rudra and Riley exchanged glances—actual food and shelter after two nights of canned beans sounded like paradise.
"Lead the way, moonlight jewel," Riley said with a grin.
She smiled faintly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "My husband will be happy to meet travelers."
Silence. The sound of the wind stopped meaning anything.
Rudra blinked once. "Come by me again."
Serenkhand blinked innocently. "My husband. He is herder. Very kind man."."
Riley's grin shattered like glass. "You… are already married?"
She nodded politely, utterly unaware of the way both men froze like statues. "Yes."
They looked at each other—dead eyes, slouched shoulders, a shared aura of betrayal from the universe itself.
"Two minutes," Rudra muttered.
"Two minutes," Riley echoed.
Both turned sharply, marched behind a nearby tree, and immediately let loose a synchronized, wordless scream that made nearby cattle flinch.
There was a brief, muffled explosion of frustration.
"Are you kidding me?" Riley hissed. "Outta all the pretty girls in the bloody desert, we find the married one!"
Rudra leaned against the tree, rubbing his temples. "Why does the universe keep doing this to me? Every time I think 'maybe life is bad' it makes it worse"
"Mate, you don't even flirt."
"That's not the point!" Rudra groaned, kicking at the dirt. "She's cute, kind, and doesn't sound like she wants to stab us. That's rare out here."
They both sighed in unison, defeated by fate itself.
From the other side of the tree, Serenkhand's voice floated over. "Are you coming or not?"
"Yeah!" Riley yelled, forcing a grin. "Just…2 minutes more"
They ended up walking beside her along the narrow dirt path, each carrying a heavy wooden bucket balanced on a yoke. The sun had climbed high, and the grasslands shimmered gold beneath it. Serenkhand's scarf fluttered with each step, the quiet rhythm of water sloshing filling the silence between them.
Rudra tilted his head, breaking the stillness. "So… what's it like living under the Soviet banner?"
She glanced back, a faint smile on her lips as if the question itself was too big for one breath. She began speaking in Mongolian, her tone calm, musical even. Rudra caught bits and pieces—partisan, border patrol, red market, and something that sounded like ration cards.
Riley, who only half understood, whispered, "She's talkin' about state rations and trade quotas, I think. And—something about propaganda radios?"
Serenkhand looked at them, realizing their confusion, and tried in halting English. "We… grow strong together, da? Soviet helps. They give medicine, school, protect border. But…" she hesitated, eyes lowering, "…they also take much. Freedom, land, voice."
Rudra adjusted the bucket on his shoulder, the wooden handle biting into his skin. "Sounds about right," he muttered. "They call it unity. I call it possession."
Serenkhand smiled faintly, not entirely understanding but sensing the tone. "You talk like soldier."
Riley chuckled. "Oh, he's worse. He's a philosopher with guns."
Rudra shot him a deadpan look. "At least one of those is licensed."
Serenkhand laughed softly, the sound small but real—like something breaking through years of silence. The three of them kept walking toward the distant village, the wind carrying the faint crackle of a Soviet radio playing somewhere far away, still preaching unity to an empire that refused to die.
As they trudged along the dusty path, water buckets swaying in rhythm with their steps, Serenkhand finally asked, her voice quiet but curious, "Do you… have any children?"
Riley snorted softly, shaking his head. "Nope. No anyone I know of," he muttered, eyes on the horizon, pretending.
Rudra, carrying his own bucket with ease, tilted his head slightly. "I am fifteen," he said casually, as if stating the weather.
Serenkhand froze mid-step, her eyes widening in surprise. "Fifteen?" she repeated, incredulous.
The three of them crested the final ridge, the village sprawled below like a scattering of clay and wood, smoke curling from small chimneys into the pale Mongolian sky. Livestock moved lazily through the dirt paths, and the faint clatter of tools echoed from workshops and barns.
Serenkhand led the way, her steps light but purposeful, glancing back to make sure Rudra and Riley were keeping pace. "Almost there," she said softly, a hint of pride in her voice.
Riley, sweating from the buckets and the sun, muttered, "Finally… breakfast better be worth it, mate."
Rudra, eyes scanning the village carefully, said nothing, his fingers brushing along the handle of a weapon tucked at his side. Even in such a peaceful place, the tension in his posture suggested the calm was only temporary.
As they approached the main cluster of homes, a figure emerged from one of the larger wooden houses. Broad-shouldered, tall, with a stern face and a presence that immediately demanded attention, he paused at the doorway, eyes narrowing as they landed on the strangers.
Serenkhand stopped mid-step, her smile faltering slightly. "This is my husband," she said quietly.
Rudra's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation—or curiosity—crossing his otherwise calm expression. Riley stiffened beside him, already sensing trouble.
The man's gaze swept over them, lingering on Rudra in particular, and then the chapter cut to black, leaving the three of them frozen at the doorstep, tension crackling in the air.
Riley, walking beside him, didn't react at al.
Rudra's expression remained calm, almost amused, though there was an undertone of deliberate mischief. "Yes. Not exactly the age you'd expect someone like me"