Alexey Vayamretyl is a samurai lying on clean water and his real Kamchat path.

It was not without difficulty that the two of them loaded the heavy carcass of a deer, literally one hundred and fifty kilograms, with large spreading horns of one and a half meters, onto their short sled, sat down on top of the soft carcass, and only shouted to their obedient dogs, who had long been waiting for their imperious command to move quickly and freely, as the pads of their paws We've been frozen in the melting ice for a long time. Their pets were just waiting for them, even in the morning and not fed, knowing that upon arrival home they would certainly feast on the fresh blood of this deer, and those crispy sweet bones for them, and the trimmings of the offal of a juicy deer for them. I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I – his father's command was reflected from the local mountains and hills, and the dogs pulled on the straps and made a strong leap forward. As the leader, the old piebald dog Gray instantly pulled on the leather traces made of seal skin, which easily absorbed the heavy load itself, strained, and the sled, with its wide snow-white runners, easily broke away from the slippery ice of the river, easily creaking its hard birch runners on the rather thin and transparent ice like glass. It was still quite early in autumn, and his father had to take all the necessary care at this time of year, constantly looking at the road so that the team would not get into the polynya, which was not frozen on the river, where there was a rapid and on the ridges, barely covered with a thin crust of ice, since not so severe frosts could not yet It's really hard to get to the bottom of this wayward river, the Vyvenka, and its capricious left tributary at this time of year, the Branches, as the water from the hills was squeezed out by strong pressure on the ice, freezing and creating polynyas even where you don't expect them., having more than one year of hunting experience here. It was not difficult for their dogs to do their usual work today. During the rather short summer here, they missed these fast sleds so much, and Dimka also held his three-month-old beloved puppy Archie in his arms, who became so attached to the baby that he literally relentlessly followed him everywhere and everywhere, and on the current hunt he also ran, tangling somewhere with his father's homemade skis.. And he regularly fed him with his own hands, and the puppy, in gratitude for such care, showed his admiration for his friendship with a red tongue after feeding every time, licking his unwashed palms and his whole rounded face, tanned over the long summer, like all northern peoples, tickling and transmitting his inner warmth to him. and showing true devotion and doglike loyalty here…

5.0.

And

the

soul

of

such

a

small

Denis

was

now

rejoicing

at

their

successful

hunting

with

his

father.

And as they raced across the glassy ice, little Dimon's soul was now rejoicing that he and his father had such a successful hunt today. …

6.0

At

pov

о

rot

on

a

tributary

of the Vetvayama

River.

When they reached the right turn into their unnamed tributary of the Branches, they had to turn right from a wide turnout, and my father, as always, gave the command to the dogs to turn. – Ush-ush-ush! Ush-ush-ush! Ush-ush-ush! – and his command merged with the soft noise that, like this command, came from the skids, easily sliding on the thin and glass-like transparent ice. And the obedient dogs, having easily listened to him, began, following the leader, to turn easily to the right, when suddenly an old wolverine growled at them from behind the bushes, bristling with her red fur, protecting her food, which she had just found, without letting go of the bone-frozen magpie, protecting her cozy place under bush and their dogs, now drawn not by the force of his father's loud commands, but only, obeying the ancient genetic hunting passion, tightened the leather traces and rushed immediately after the wolverine into the middle of the river., to catch a terrified red-haired animal running from them. The wolverine, not letting go of the frozen little white-sided magpie, jumped to the left in fear and ran with its short paws across the slippery ice to the opposite steep bank. The dogs, having stopped listening to their master, rushed after her again, raising their own special, unstoppable and uncontrollable dog noise. – Woof-Woof!!! – Woof-Woof!! – Woof-Woof!!! – and the only thing that stood out was the low sound of Gray's leader, who was the oldest and was considered the leader of their pack and understood all the commands the most. But now their innate hunting passion has turned off their hearing and their ability to obey the voice of Dimon's father. My father tried to slow them down and started looking for a hidden brake, took his blacksmith-sharpened foot out from under the deer's carcass and inserted it into the front support of the sled, but it slid easily without clinging to the ice, as there were no obvious obstacles in its path, and suddenly.... Meandering cracks began to appear on the transparent ice and the dogs began to squish on the water that immediately appeared, easily splashing water, the father, sensing the danger now threatening them, easily turned back, lifted his little son Dimka, along with the puppy, who still did not understand anything, by the collar of his warm kitchen and quickly dropped onto the ice, while he tried and held their deer and, I tried to hold the sled itself sliding on thin ice to protect it from the water pouring out from under the ice. The sled began to sink easily into the depths and become covered with rushing water.…

7.0.

Denis

's

sharp

and

painful

fall.

Falling, being so unexpectedly thrown by his father, Dimka hit the thin ice hard and his hands without gloves rested on the transparent ice, which instantly began to melt under his warm hands, since, holding the puppy, he was without his usual gloves made of deer camus, and the warm belly of his furry friend warmed up well. His hands… Having recovered from the blow, he now clearly saw the body of his own father Alexander floating under the transparent ice. Bubbles are coming out of his mouth, and his eyes are wide open. In those brief moments, he sees his father trying to lift the ice, as transparent as the glass itself in their house, with his own hands, in order to free himself from the swirling stream of water, and the indomitable natural rapid of water only carried him away to no one knows where. Probably going somewhere deep and clearly downstream, taking it somewhere to the shoreline.… The dogs turned to the left, and the flooded sled now delayed and stopped their running, and they strained and strained their traces, and there was nothing they could do with the sled loaded with deer and the rapid constant movement of the water stream. They were sliding their paws, trying to continue their run in the excitement of chasing the wildest wolverine. Dimka saw that now their dogs were rooted to the spot and no longer knew what to do, since the wolverine and his magpie had already disappeared into the bushes of the coastal willow without throwing their valuable prey out of their teeth, and the dogs now had no real strength to try to pull the half-submerged sled out of the fast, swirling water. they have water. And, before Deniska's eyes, there was also their brown deer falling off the sled. He clearly saw how he turned over into the water in slow motion, how his horns clung to the ice and how a fast stream of water tried to drag him away, how the horns clung to the edges of the ice and the seething water continued to swirl around his head and seemed to boil at that moment. Her unstoppable whirlpool did not decrease at all now, bursting out like a pipe from under the ice and flooding everything around their sled and approaching the place where Dimka sprawled from the impact on the ice. Tom had to hurry so as not to get his winter shoes wet, because even though he was still small, both his grandfather and his father had repeatedly punished him that dry feet were the most important thing in the tundra in winter, then neither Koryak, nor Chukchi, nor the real Nyman was at all afraid of frost. And little Dimka runs down the ice and continues to stare at his father in fascination, and loudly asks him not to leave him now, and here after such a successful hunt. "Father! Father!!! Father!!! – he is the only one who hears his pleas, addressed to no one knows to whom now, since his father probably did not hear anything from that watery or icy captivity. And, next to him, only his dogs heard his unrequited call, either to his father himself, or to the local river and its seething abyss, in the power of which is how they ended up together, thanks to the fault of the local wolverine. And, the echo from the nearby mountains picks up his agitated childish cry, not comforted by anyone. "Father!.. – Father!....-Father!......... – Father…!............ From!...... Oh!........... And at the moment, as the echo itself quickly recedes somewhere, hiding, probably, in the numerous local decays, then comes the silent local dead silence, only the dogs can be heard whining guiltily, since their paws are now in that icy water that is bubbling, since they also found themselves in the water stream and, they can't get out of there on their own without the help of their master… and they didn't even understand where their master was now, because they focused all their hunting passion on the fleeing wolverine. But they didn't know what was really going on back there, and they also didn't understand why they were in the water themselves, probably because of their special canine nature and their local Kamchatka purpose. And his little son, he just sees how hard it is for his father there, how difficult it is for him to get up from under the ice, and he, in his youth, still does not understand that his father no longer has the strength or the real physical ability to lift this continuous river with his hands, weakening without oxygen by the minute. coast to coast, a heavy block of ice to escape from this now deadly stormy torrent of water, and how long will he still be there under this transparent ice glass fighting for his life, what will he and his father think about in these last moments, also, seeing his only son standing alone on the ice, and even the son does not know how long he will have enough of those vital forces, easily leaving his body. Dimka couldn't have known anything about it, either from his current childhood age or from the little life experience he had at the moment. And, again, in his ears only slightly, the muffled echo from the hills, in his ears his own anguished cry: "Father!!!! "Father!.. – Father!....-Father!......... – Father…!............ From!...... Oh!........... And then, that low-pitched, apologetic whine, undoubtedly also like the guilty dogs' paws, which were in the water gurgling like spring, and they began to tremble violently from the cold, trying to warm themselves with this kind of tremor from the inside.... And now, in Dimka's body, there is only fear of the local rural loneliness and the local snowy obscurity.… He was all alone here on this slippery ice, as transparent as glass itself… – Was he thinking about anything earthly and meaningful for himself at those moments? It's hard to tell us. – What should I do? What should he do now? He did not know and did not understand … because until now, such a tragic moment, everything was always decided for him by his beloved father or his always kind mother Tatiana Vayamretyl. All he had to do was obediently follow them like a shadow, accompany them, sometimes help them, often support them, and also carry firewood, and fulfill the quiet requests of the half-blind grandmother, which he always fulfilled with joy, since she always had something really tasty or even sweet in her pocket carefully. she kept it for her only and so beloved grandson. It is not difficult for him to bring her into the summer yurt branches of a reed from the shore or water from a stream. He also could and helped them load the sleds, and now he's here all by himself.… He wasn't afraid of anything yet. He hadn't realized anything yet, in his eagerness to save and fight for his local village and this branch of his life. He hadn't realized yet that he was the only one left here. It was just that he was all alone here and now. It was just that he had no one to ask now where to go and what to actually do first.

And, as always, when he didn't understand something, he wept bitterly like a child, pouring his tears onto his cheeks, which were flushed with fright, and droplets slid down them, rolled onto his kitchen, and he swallowed them and felt how salty they were. He still did not know how much of this bitter salt there would be in his future life, but now, having felt their true salinity given to him by nature, he returned to reality from oblivion or oblivion, and at that moment he became not really a seven-year-old kid, but a real adult… And the whining of the dogs intensified, and he understood First of all, he needs to help out his dog friends, otherwise he, his mother and grandmother will not survive this winter without them. But he had not yet figured out how to rescue his friends from the stormy stream, since the water on the ice was ankle-deep, and he did not dare to wet his shoes.… While he was crying, a very black, large, broad-chested local raven flew in, as if from nowhere, and fluttering over him and cawing in the air, he sat down on a bush next to Dimka… And he, attracted by his loud Kar-r-r!!!, saw an old black raven, who first jumped up on his powerful two paws and flew around him, peering into his eyes, so that he even heard the rustle of his feathers on the frosty air and, as if inviting the baby to a long river journey. The raven jumped and jumped, trying to attract his gaze to himself, until Dimka got up from his knees and went to the raven, as to his now unknown guide, and maybe even a true friend and savior. This raven was special in the local Kamchatka Vyven tundra. He was somehow particularly fabulous, wise, and even such a sophisticated life experience, as he had seen more than one generation of local Nymils, and Koryaks, and deer Chukchi, who were born here and often died here on the river against their will, walking their own short and some rather long path only to them. God has set the earth's distance alone, which is probably measured out in advance for us somewhere in heaven itself, or maybe we ourselves participate in its extension, if God again does not object and deigns to let us breathe some more, take another look., still admire the surrounding local expanses. For many, this life distance literally ended with their birth right in the local yurt flooded with dry cedar, since there had been no vaccinations against all infectious diseases or proper medical care yet, and the great Kamchatka Nature itself did everything to ensure that the weakest, the genetically defective and not viable individual, let and the human race quickly left this tundra path of theirs, without interfering with the life and development of the fittest, the development of the stronger and more understandable, and skillful. And if anyone stayed, and they didn't know why, and survived in such harsh conditions here, then his path was often so incredibly long, so long, that he himself often had to ask for Guidance, and the local Raven, the divine Nimylan Kutha, to help him move to all their upper people. in order not to experience all the earthly hardships and backbreaking labors in old age, which have long been beyond our strength and beyond our physical capabilities. And it is significant that not always, he is that local black Raven, and their divine black Kuth, and listened to such unusual requests from their local senile old people, who are not able to see their very long, very long path, giving the opportunity to the very local Kamchatka Time may still be a little bit stretched, a little-slow down a little, and then the local man lived happily for sixty, seventy, or even eighty years in complete harmony with the surrounding nature and, naturally, enjoying the taste of the heads of the local red fish in the spring., enjoying the first five-minute red caviar and that special first spring ear, which could only have been brewed with real red wine from nowhere and came from – the local spring's first frisky nerochka at the end of May, when, as a harbinger of the local spring itself and their great homming, she entered all the stormy Kamchatka rivers and even the streams to put aside their fabulous new life giving red caviar, and, as before, to give new life to their numerous generation of anadromous local red fish. He is so broad-chested, as if he has a particularly durable ancient shield of a warrior defender, a warrior warrior, the guardian of these fabulous branches of the Kamchatka mountains in front of his chest. His beak is so big and so black, and also incredibly sharp, but Dimka himself is not at all afraid now, as they were walking behind him, as if they were still talking to each other. Although the raven's voice was similar now, his croaking was similar to the hoarse cough of his own and beloved grandfather, which Dimka remembered for the rest of his life and would easily distinguish this cough from thousands of other voices of the same feeble old men. And he, this black raven of their Kutkh, jumping from branch to branch that grew along the shore, began to show the upset and distressed Dima the way to his house, as the ancient biblical prophet Peter led Slavic tribes against Mamai's cavalry, against Turks and Poles who wanted to feast on Slavic, ancestrally Russian lands.… He did not know exactly what force was leading Dima home along this path, but only an hour or more later he was already at his native hearth, partially dug into the surrounding earth for warmth, and lined with turf for warmth. And the black old raven, satisfied with the completed task, sat on the roof of their house and loudly called his mother through the chimney. – Kar-r-r! – yes, so loudly that she heard his loud "Kar-k-r!" in the house through the chimney of their stove. This cry of his "Kar-kar!" burst with such force into her ears, waiting for news, into her trembling consciousness, that she immediately suspected that something like this had happened to her little son or even to her beloved husband. Although, early in the morning, even before dawn, when she accompanied her husband and her son to hunt with their dogs, she did not have any special anxiety or even premonition for her or for their lives, since her husband was a fairly experienced hunter-trapper who knows ten or even twenty here in the area. miles of literally every tundra hummock, who knew literally every pebble frozen into the ground, who knew literally every hillock, who knew literally every sharp turn of the river and even every newly formed spring hall on it. Their local river friends, Umka bear fishermen, had long been sleeping on the grass they had saved from the summer in their warm dens, which had been set up in advance in the still warm summer. And, even the occasional pack of prowling wolves or a lone evil local wolverine for her husband Alexander was not something out of the ordinary here, where her husband was no less strong than the owner of these places himself – umka the bear, a seven-hundred-kilogram bully, in the autumn with difficulty, carrying himself on short legs. Her husband could bend any birch tree into an arc. Moreover, she had him armed with a TOZ-12 rifle, even though it was old, it was left of his own father, but still there was a duck in the house, and he came across a partridge, and the bunnies could not get away, not to mention the fresh venison, which was both salted and dried for a long time for the long winter.. Yes, here in winter a hunter, a fisherman, a goldfish with a hariton, and a partridge, and bunnies even without a gun on unmarked trails often got into loops.... And, she threw an unfinished flatbread on the table, forgot to remove the frying pan from the stove and opened wide the doors of the house, where the real local windy cold burst in to see if her husband had arrived and if they had brought hunting trophies with her son, which she thought about and what their omnipresent croaking was now notifying her. The old raven. Only Dimka's little son was standing in the courtyard, crying bitterly, sobbing and wiping his flushed nose with the sleeve of a worn red leather jacket.... "What happened?" Where is your father? – Son, where are our sleds and where are the dogs? – I asked, but somewhere deep inside she vaguely guessed that something serious had probably happened to her husband that day, since only her son had come and was still crying. Her son was silent now, unable to utter a word. He was crying bitterly. He didn't say anything, and now because of the fear he had experienced, from that vision that would be remembered for a lifetime, he couldn't say anything to her, and he just waved his frozen hands at random, pointing to the way back down to the river Vyvenka.... His mother shook him hard by the shoulders once more, looking into his face to reason with him to stop crying and answer her or see in his frightened eyes what really happened to him and his father and, most importantly, where. But it was all useless. She didn't hear any words from him crying now. Just some kind of throaty bubbling, and endless crying....

8.0.

And

the

old

Koryak

divine

raven

Kutkh

sees

everything

here

from

his

tall

ancient

poplar

tree

and

he

knows

everything

here.

The old divine local Koryak raven Kutkh from the roof once again, half greeted, half announced something of his own to his mother. – Kar-r-r-ut! "Kar-r-r-ut-on!" – Kar-r-r-u-that-well-l! And, Tatiana, in that long-drawn-out croak, she could clearly hear their long-drawn-out human: u-t-o-n-u-l… And now she realized that it wasn't for nothing, because the youngest Dimka came alone and without his beloved dogs, and without his father, and even says nothing. She needs to get ready right now, now she needs to call the neighbors for help and go help out herself and look for her beloved husband to help free him from a crease or something. Maybe he got into some river hole and broke his legs, or into a deep hole, or maybe into a wormwood, because the ice is still so thin in places....

9.0.

A

mother

saw

her

son

Denis

and

was

literally

stunned

with

fear.

She rushed to slow down her son, as she realized that it was useless and immediately ran to the neighboring yurts and called Ahytka Egor and Anik Peter, who immediately realized by her agitated voice and by the look of her crying son Dimka that something special had happened, something unusual, probably with his the father, since the son returned from hunting alone and without dogs. They quickly put their dogs, who had been ready to ride for a long time, into a hiking sled…, and as if they were waiting, they rushed into the road, and when they arrived at the bend of the Vyvenka River and that sharp turn in the Branches, they saw a sled almost frozen into the ice, loaded with a heavy deer carcass, the spreading horns of which were stuck in the ice and kept it afloat and they also saw the dogs , wet and whining from the cold, and it immediately became clear to them what had actually happened here just an hour or two ago… As the stream of water bubbled incessantly, bursting out from under the ice, spilling over the broken, like a large broken glass slab of ice, and again, this fast water was going somewhere by itself, making such a soothing noise of a soft and rather peaceful murmur now, against the background of the complete tundra silence and fabulous silence surrounding them, since there was no wind yet and everything in the local nature only sparkled under the rays of a bright autumn afternoon From the sun, everything was just coming to life, warming up a little from the local night frost. Peter Anika, how would you feel better about the situation and be in your autumn rubber boots? Quickly, he lifted the wide boots and tied them around his neck, fastened them to the harnesses around his neck with his leather strap hidden in his pocket, which he never parted with, and entered the stormy stream of water, pulled on the leather traces that had been soaked for a long time and easily cut them off with his short boy's sharp knife, and the husky sled dogs broke free in an instant and they began to lick their long-frozen paws, since they had all been covered in icicles of ice for a long time. Then the older men, together, and they managed to pull the heavy deer out of the water washing it, not without difficulty, shifted it onto their dry sled standing at a distance so as not to break off the edges of the thin ice, and the ice themselves tried to walk one by one holding onto a long stick, which the assistants held together standing by the shore, where the ice is thicker, and and not so fast. – Dim, what happened here? – the adult neighbors asked themselves easily, guessing now and, as it were, reconstructing recent events, what happened to the two of them here just an hour ago. They easily reconstructed a series of tragic events here, seeing the traces of the sled on the ice, seeing these half-frozen huskies, seeing a deer submerged in water, shot by his father. Now, out of fear, Dimka could not say anything to them and only showed his face and put his hands under the ice, showing that this fast water – nilgykyn washed the water carried his father's face down somewhere. And Dimka, with his hands down, walked along the shore, showing where he saw the face of his beloved father. The men took axes in their hands, and some long ago mounted a pole and went down the ice after him. They walked for quite a long time, scanning the banks to the right and left, and already, probably, at the sixth kilometer, at a sharp bend in the river near a loose mountain, they saw his father's body lying under the ice, as if in some kind of probably fabulous glass sarcophagus, behind this durable, icy transparent glass made of the purest ice. It was not without difficulty that they cut through the rather thick but transparent ice in this place and, groaning, took out the body of his beloved father Alexander, which had long since cooled in the water. Then they laid him first on the shore on the snow, covering the eyelids of his still wide-open eyes. Akhytka ran upstream and back for his sled, and immediately they loaded his father's body, all wet, into the sled. And on other sleds they took the deer he had killed to the village of Branches. Deniska walked beside him, holding his father's cold thumb and not taking it out of his icy hands, even though his hand had been shaking from the piercing cold for a long time. But, he wanted to feel his own parental body once more, which could no longer warm him in any way, as it was before, when his father always warmed his frozen hands with his hot breath both when fishing and hunting, and even hid them under his armpits when it was dry and warm in his kitchen, that the hands feel so comfortable, so special and thoroughbred. He also wanted his father to wake up right away, so that he could pat him on the back of the head and, as always, gently, as he knew how to do, also cheer him up now. …