Neme-Goddess-of-Death
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- Posted: Mon, 23 Apr 2012 23:13:27 +0000
Oksana Zolnerowich
Velika Mat'-Zemlia, Rus' velikaia!
Oi, shiroki prostory tvoi.
Kak chrez zlatye polia beskrainie,
Deti Dazhd'boga prishli.
Gherez debri vekovye,
Skvoz' dalekie kraia,
Vyshli bratiia rodnye —
To Dazhd'boga synov'ia.
Stiagi groznye vzdymaia,
Vozrodim byluiu Rus'!
Sohranim zavety Pravi —
Pred Bogami ia klianus'!
Velika Mat'-Zemlia, Rus' velikaia!
Oi, shiroki prostory tvoi.
Kak chrez zlatye polia beskrainie,
Deti Dazhd'boga prishli.
Gherez debri vekovye,
Skvoz' dalekie kraia,
Vyshli bratiia rodnye —
To Dazhd'boga synov'ia.
Stiagi groznye vzdymaia,
Vozrodim byluiu Rus'!
Sohranim zavety Pravi —
Pred Bogami ia klianus'!
Oi-da, matushka,
Nochka-Svarogovna,
Skroi sedye zavety ottsov
Ot glaza chernogo liuta voroga
V gushe sviaschennyh lesov.
Nochka-Svarogovna,
Skroi sedye zavety ottsov
Ot glaza chernogo liuta voroga
V gushe sviaschennyh lesov.
Snova, serdtsem zamiraia,
Slovo molvim, chut' dysha:
Slav'sia, Matushka rodnaia!
Slav'sia, Russkaia dusha !
- Oksana would normally have rolled her sleeves up for this, but she had far too many to make the attempt at the moment. The good news was, her father was a trader of furs, along with all of her brothers. Oksana could skin anything in the dark, blindfolded, while wearing gloves. It was while she was skinning the dire wolf that Gavriil seemed to find a patch of grass near the lean to, lucky for her. It would take a lot more than a tiny patch of grass to get Gavriil back to full strength though. Oksana shook her head at the thought. One more night, and they'd get to Lundene where she could trade the fur of this dire wolf to put Gavriil in a stable with all the grain that horse could stand to stomach.
She heard the crunch of the snow behind her in the woods, then the voice that accompanied the steps. Oksana rose to her feet, turning to face the other woman with her knife still in her gloved hand. She gave her a quick once over. This girl was no fighter. She was Elven, but she was no fighter. Oksana deemed it fairly early that she would be no threat, and if she tried, Oksana was positive she could cut her down without trouble. "Aria of the South Sea, I am Oksana of the Northlands. This is Barron, son of the Lord of Whitescale Pass. I haven' a problem sharin', ya can give yer herbs ta my horse." She motioned with her knife over toward Gavriil before flipping the knife a couple of times in her hand. "The sooner we get the beast done, the sooner we can all eat." With that, she crouched back down by the animal and set about finishing her work of skinning it.
Gherez debri vekovye,
Skvoz' dalekie kraia,
Molvim, bratiia rodnye:
Slav'sia, Rus', Zemlia moia!
Skvoz' dalekie kraia,
Molvim, bratiia rodnye:
Slav'sia, Rus', Zemlia moia!