Exhausted, the tractor motored into the first large Polish petrol station it could find. His little companions were sleeping in his cab. During his journey across Poland, he had stopped a few times so they could climb down and drink from puddles and forage for food. Once, Myroslava caught a songbird and shared it with her brother but, as they crossed a stretch of more populated terrain, hunting became more difficult and garbage wasn't out where they could get to it. He heard them speaking to each other in the way of cats.
"I'm hungry. I miss Mama and Tato."
"Me too. Let's sleep. Maybe tomorrow we'll get a bite."
The tractor's great diesel heart fell. He liked the small, sleek things that had hitched a ride with him. They were warm and soft and entertaining. He felt horrible for them. Soon, he felt a bit peckish himself- His fuel gauge was hovering around empty but somehow, he managed to roll onward.
He parked at the nearest farm fuel pump and weighed his options. Stealthily, he used the Force to lift the fueling nozzle from the pump and tried it to see if he could get any fuel. A few drops squeezed out but nothing that made any difference. He tried to ignore his hunger but he needed diesel. He'd have to do something for his hunger and soon.
He felt Samiilo paw at the cabin door and he opened it so the cats could climb down.
The tractor felt helpless. He may have been born only a few days ago and under very horrible circumstances but he knew that fuel would cost money. He thought about fogging up his windshield to write "Will farm for petrol," but he felt that there wouldn't be much in the way of farm tasks that people need to do here in the city. He doubted he could fit into most gardens and, while he could haul loads, he had seen enough big trucks on the way to the city that he knew his strength would be ignored.
"Awwww, aren't they so sweet?" the tractor heard a woman coo. She was bending down to pet both Samiilo and Myroslava and Myroslava had begun flirting for all she was worth. Samiilo smiled at the woman and flicked his tail. Soon, a man appeared from inside the petrol station with two tins of cat food. With a metallic snap, he peeled back the lids and set the food before the pair. Myroslava twined herself in and out between the man's ankles in thanks and both cats settled down to their first hearty meal in days. The tractor felt such relief that his companions were being treated to a meal but his heater came on a bit out of shame that he could not supply the little ones with food.
"Could we take them home with us, do you think?" he heard the man ask the woman.
"We have room. Birgir could use a playmate or two."
The cats had finished their food and had started grooming but as soon as the pair of humans made a move toward them, they both scurried away in a flash and bounded towards the tractor, who popped open his cab door and click! click! locked them safely inside. They rushed down onto the floor and hid beneath the seat.
"I'm not going with them."
"No. They were so nice but no. The tractor is like home."
"Looks like they belong to someone," the man shrugged. "I wouldn't have thought to see farm equipment in the city but maybe it needed special repairs." He admired the tractor for a while and thought of his parents' farm in the countryside.
"It's almost time for my shift at the refugee center," the woman tugged on his arm.
"I won't make you late," reassured the man, putting an arm around her waist and slowly walking her away from the petrol station. "You make me so proud, working to make others' lives better. People need good food and you're a good cook. I'm glad others will get to try your cooking."
"It's pierogi today," the tractor heard the woman mention as they walked away from the petrol station. "We made so many..." her voice was soon lost in the sounds of the city.
The word pierogi made the tractor's fuel tank feel even emptier. He began to weigh his options. He felt reasonably sure that he could get the pump to pay out farm fuel but that would be stealing and the thought of taking something he hadn't paid for hurt his engine. He could advertise his willingness to work but lack of fuel made him so tired. Wiper fluid dribbled down his windscreen and onto his green hood.
"Brat, you should go eat pierogi," he heard a small voice urge from within his cab.
"We are all orphans. The kind people here wanted to take us in. They would take you in too, I bet," he heard Samilio reason.
The tractor turned on his radio. Flipping between stations, he found the words he wanted to speak.
"I don't think I can eat that," he half sang, half stated.
Soon, a uniformed policeman walked up to the tractor and began to inspect it.
"It does seem abandoned," the tractor heard. What was going on? He wasn't abandoned, his friends were in his cab!
"... might have to be towed..." the policeman said, typing something on his phone.
They weren't going to tow him. Tired as he was, and feeling hollow, while the policeman was distracted with his phone, as quietly as he could, the tractor pulled away from the pump and fled, cramming himself down an alley as far as he could get.
No one can see me, he stated. The Force shrouded him and he huddled in the alley, panting diesel fumes, utterly spent. If only pierogi could fill his tank.
As the Force flowed around him, hiding him and his small friends from sight, he heard a pleasant male voice speaking English: "I wish for a tractor..." The words wrapped around the great piece of farm machinery and he felt himself changing, shifting, becoming smaller, more fragile. His body shrank, his wheels disappeared. He didn't feel as solid anymore; he felt so strange. In the middle of him, his gas tank pinched and his motor pounded. How was he going to be able to pay someone for a tune-up, let alone convince them to work on him? His balance shifted from four points to two. He felt two warm, sleek bodies against him. His mind churned in confusion.
"Let's take the shortcut,"
As they turned down the alleyway, the two men saw the figure of a young man, his face buried in his hands. Two young children flanked him, a girl with light brown braids and a boy with a dishwater blond crewcut. The stranger was solidly-built and looked to be a farmer if clothes were anything to go by- He wore a battered tan jacket over a green shirt, blue jeans stained with soil and what looked to be machine grease, and on his short-cropped dark hair, he wore a green ball-cap with embroidery of a tractor on the front above the words John Deere written in the Cyrillic. The children were dressed in neat outfits that could use washing.
"Hey friend," greeted the elder of the two companions in Ukrainian.
He looked up at the pair. They could see he had been weeping, the exhaustion and despair clouding his eyes.
"Hello countryman, where are you from? You look hungry. Have you and the kids had anything today?" added the younger man.
The stranger's mouth worked for a moment before words came. "Putin shat me out."
Grim chuckles broke out of their mouths before they got ahold of themselves. "Strange way to refer to a war. I hope all of Ukraine twists his bowels and kills him."
"Fucker, I hope he shits a bomb and blows himself and Russia up with it."
"It's a long way from home but at least you were able to bring your kids. You just got out, didn't you? We're going back soon to join the fighting. We were visiting family when this all started. There's a refugee centre up the way. We'll take you there, get you and the small ones a hot meal."
"We're going to go live with Titka," announced Samilio.
"Are you?" asked the younger man. "How about a piggyback ride to lunch? Is it okay with you?" he asked the now-human tractor, assuming he was the child's father.
He looked at Samilio, confused as to how he now had two human children instead of two cats. Samilio smiled brightly. "Yes, I think Samilio would like it. Do you also want a ride, Myroslava?" he wondered to the small girl.
"Yes please!" He lifted her up and put her on his shoulders and held onto her as they followed the two men to the centre and a hot breakfast.