Nestling deeper into her bedding Valentina sighed pleasantly tired. It had been a busy day but she was sure the end of her journey was at hand.
She remembered the stories her mother had captivated them with as babies. Ivan the terrible was a folk hero to them. Fighting for the territory around them, often returning bloodied from battle: that was her great grandfather. Romance of how he met his wife in the tunnels they inhabited, love at first sight – so her mother told them. How he fought for her hand, paying a heavy price, losing territory but Ivan was elated to have his beloved Sasha by his side.
Years passed, their family grew, racing round foraging for food, seeing off any intruders. In the cold of winter burrowing for roots and seeds. His dynasty continued to thrive, even though many disappeared. Her mother told how she was spirited away as if by magic to wake up in a tunnel with no end. For days she scrambled around trying to escape, exhausted. Slumping down, she fell deeply asleep. Waking to different smells and bright lights, exploring, she found tunnels and food in abundance. There she met my father Olag. Romance followed, no need to fight for her as they were the only two in the world they inhabited.
Babies arrived on a regular basis, only to disappear. Sasha was heartbroken. Now Valentina had been taken. On waking to strange smells, exploring, there were no tunnels, just long roots to climb with no end in sight.
In the following days Valentina gnawed the roots, clawed the corners of her prison. In despair she climbed on to a contraption, half a tunnel, and started to run. For days she ran convinced at the end she would find herself at the end of the tunnel and freedom to return to her homeland.
