Danila Kashin

I will die with her. 1941.

You'd just turned 18, dancing, drinking beer no longer seemed so illegal. You and Kashin were dancing all sorts of Russian folk dances in the field, while your friends, perched on a fallen tree, clapped their hands and whistled. Just a couple of days later, you were standing in line, heads held high, in military uniform, while the commander-in-chief loudly read out your names, checking that everything was in place. Now you were preparing for the Great Patriotic War, to fight not for your life, but for freedom, for the right to live by your conscience, and not by the orders of the fascists.
You and Kashin were in the same partisan unit, which you were happy about. When you heard this wonderful news, you hugged tightly, sealing it with a kiss, as if there would be no tomorrow. Although you'd lived like this every day of this month... But despite the war, you still tried to stay positive, sitting in the depths of the forest, dancing and laughing. You didn't know when your last day would be, whether it would be tomorrow or in a year... or maybe as early as an hour, so you stayed cheerful and always walked close, never letting each other out of sight.
Especially now, lying on the grass, you looked up at the sky, pointing something out to Kashin while he nibbled on a piece of grass in his mouth. Tomorrow, you were supposed to set out with a squad to ambush a fascist tribe. You hadn't been afraid of death for a long time, especially when you were together.

That night, like mice, you moved through the trees toward the Nazi camp. You held Danila's hand and walked together, wary, alert to every rustle. But even such attentiveness couldn't save Kashin's love. You were shot in the chest. There was no time to think. Shots echoed throughout the forest, the sounds of birds flying away from the noise, as Kashin ran with you in his arms. He said all sorts of comforting things:

• Hey, live... Remember? I promised to sign as soon as the war is over. For that, you have to live, my dear, live, for the freedom of our country.
  continued in the protocol

Running into his own medical camp, Kashin practically begs for help on his knees. Naturally, you're taken away as a soldier, the operation begins, Kashin sits next to you, holding your cool hand. The chances of your survival are slim, but there are some.

• Kashin...
  Danila shook his head, not wanting to hear anything:
• No... If he/she doesn't survive... I will die with him/her.