The Cossack
Cossack Vissily Volkov stood at the mouth of his tent, looking out at the wide, inhospitable terrain of the Russian steppe. The wind played gently with his long, dark hair as his grim features stared at the open country, the cool of the evening flowing over his semi-naked body. It had been a hard ride, the last few days, but perhaps now they were out of the reaches of the Imperial troops that had been chasing them. As he studied the terrain, he wondered when, or even if, he would see commander...