A trickle of water spilled over his unresisting lips and he tipped his head back slightly, out of reflex.

It was room temperature, and felt foreign in his mouth.

"I have nothing to say," he muttered. He spat the words, sharply accented, but accepted more water when Cheslav forced it to his lips.

He tried to summon bellicosity, belligerance, but found it a tremendous effort. He was fought out.

"There's nothing left for you here. Only ashes. And I."

Fatigue made his whole body tremble beneath his uniform.

"Leave me alone, Slava. Go find some...feminine company. See to your son."