We’re the same blood (taiga legend now) O.Vereschagin

There was a time — there were songs!

The air was intoxicating, like home-brewed beer …

We were once together,

Tripped side of his brother …

Earth fingered paw,

Hearing the bells trill …

But the hardened — killed.

A wounded animal — subdued …

A. Zemskov.

The fact that the governor of the region was the victim of terrorist attack, investigators became clear pretty quickly. In fact — after the arrival of examination results. Commission and journalists still churned up last spring snow and dirt on Zagrebuham and around them, pushing one more absurd than the other versions, and the investigator knew that was it. And even knew who was responsible.

That’s just to punish the guilty — fifteen Zagrebuh resident, Timothy Suvorov — was not possible. He’s gone. [Cut]

Yes, exactly … Here he lived with his grandmother … Grandmother, then? True, why reception … Not go to school … And who knows, the case — doglyad him here and his-then go through again, then there is no gasoline, then sweep up the road, the bus has broken … Yeah, we understand that the new policy … Yes, we do not mind all the same — that they learn? … Yeah, we understand that politics … Not at all did not go … And who knows … Once upon that? Yes, like everyone — from the forest … Only the young one — he was lucky … Why? And you his pictures look. He was always so, clean the cub, even the eyes of the wolf, and hair color … Was still quite small, and his older boys were afraid of … A mother is his — well, my daughter Zinkin — it is there in the woods with a wolf … But I’m not saying do not rush me. Superstition, of course, I’ll not say anything … But he was lucky. Seven years from the forest dragged myself with a gun … Who allowed? Well, you laugh … oh, sorry for the word. Who is there to look? .. Yes, went to the forest. And then they all go … Not without a catch — never. He treasures unearthed, right say they won and grandmother both live in style … lived … Sosledit it wanted, but where there — and those sledakom … oh, I’m sorry for the word … Luck does not become. Bow down to him go, kid, then, that removed the curse … Well yes it is clear — superstition! ..

…Before leaving the city for a long time investigator stood on the bank of the stream. Already smelled of spring and even where the helicopter dropped by the Governor and the Guest, there was nothing to be seen — the trees and bushes enveloped in a greenish haze. The investigator stood and thought, until he began to feel that everything around — the forest, stream, sky, hill, spring breeze — laugh at him.

Then he hurried back to the car — probably the city where his power was undeniable and comprehensive … let him and waited for him there first ever "wick" for the unsolved case.

***

— So many do not believe that the Governor — of our parts — grandfather Trofim, having held a cigarette, trampled her butt in the snow and looked triumphantly listeners. — Like, what sort Zagrebuhi, if it is Moscow?

— Since Yt grandfather, — said Kolya, pouring on the third (the men at the table Duty revived, zaoglyadyvalis home — not pop out if any of the women Trofimovykh?) — Moscow tyk it’s true.

— Khrenovsky — cut grandfather. — Clear case — Moscow. With ten years. Until then — vooooon, Churilihin house? Here they stood behind him. From here, they to Moscow and waved — Kovda still did not smell any capitalism. Mother of his dad — my buddy Savca — and himself. He is one they have been in the family, then it happened … on the rarity Such a smart little boy, and like as not himself. All on Lozovoy Mound loved to run, sometimes almost lost there for days … — Grandfather launched into memories, but seeing that men are more interested unfinished quarter, he sighed and joined.

When was drunk at the fifth, the grandfather of Trofim out of his pocket all the famous flyer. Staring with her sleek big man promised prosperity to all in the second term of his election, held a week ago.

— Here’s our land — said the old man. — You look, and then we will be good. The last time something he had just won the school so we closed the shop. And now, maybe we all relocate to the city, in the new apartment!

The men drank and laughed ruefully at the sixth.

— And I hear he’s on the hunt in our region is going. Wolves — intervened, rocking on the bench, Witek. — Carries with it a certain va-and-a-azhnogo inv … inv … — Vic eyes were concentrated and resentful, sympathetic men waited. — Investor! — He blurted out. — Whether an Arab, or Japanese. Chock shorter. But bogatimogo-oh-oh-oh! — Witek shut his eyes, disoriented and collapsed in the slush.

The men were going to bang out laughing, but he remained seated with their mouths open …

…He always came up — silently. And many are not baptized as a joke when he suddenly found beside the narrow-faced teenager with a high wide-set eyes, strange color either amber, or molten gold …

Timothy Suvorov was standing near the table — wide, lined kamus, home-made skis on his shoulder, on the other — the old "bemka" behind — packed a backpack, a short fur coat with a fur-lined hood unfolded (and long blond hair spilling over her shoulders), big boots … On a belt-bandolier — a large knife.

— Good evening, Timothy T., — grandfather Trofim even stood up, mushrooming fifteen-boy by my name, as long since forgotten in Zagrebuhah. — How polevali?

The boy nodded. He held out his hand — over the table swung the strap large three-fingered gloves — and took the flyer. Turned and walked along the fence.

At the table, took a breath several people. Raised dozing in the snow Vic — that dull zamaterilsya and lay its head on the counter next to a bowl of sauerkraut.

— Why the hell he flyer something, he can not read — someone quipped. And stopped short, looked around.

Joke no one supported.

***

Timka could read and write better than most of the villagers. The truth was different — that he never went to school. Truth was the fact that he did not remember his mother, who died in childbirth just avoid Suvorovs (paramedic in Zagrebuhah was not since the beginning of the 90s) and never knew his father.

Read taught him the woman Zina — Zinaida L., once upon a time, in the 60s, who arrived here on the distribution of teacher along with her husband, an agronomist. Then Zagrebuhah lived more than two thousand people (not two hundred, as it is now) and had a hard job and a young teacher and her husband. And then …

When Timka was seven years old and he had already read quite confident, Baba Zina just opened his previously locked closet. When in 1998 devastated closed as unnecessary village library, a third of the fund-retired teacher hauled to yourself — with the help of another kept her respect, but quickly losing the human form of drinking, unemployment, lack of money and men, his former students, whom she admonished to life sincere wishes of happiness … Happiness quickly narrowed down to the neck of a bottle of moonshine — it would be a little wider and a little longer raining. But respect for the teacher left. Even more so — to the elderly man who single-handedly bringing up someone else’s kid count. So what that’s grandson? Daughter is just a year before his death, and came, and before that his father’s funeral and the nose did not show … But I wonder — is she from whom his work up, Timka something? After all, the local … Who do like that? .. Yes quieter, well, it did not seem to know — by whom? ..

…Books Timka hit their number and diversity. Analyzing them, that summer he was sitting at home a week — puffed laid out piles: it now, it’s then when grow up (he is critically aware that in many books not just to "reach"), and even in the woods was not put out that it was I do not like at all.

Since then — for eight years — he read almost everything. More than five thousand volumes. Variety. Timka could not say that he understood. Something could not explain and grandmother. One time Timka wished he did not go to school. He asked about her peers, who first studied here in the village school, where he once taught, and the woman Zina, and last year we went for thirty-two kilometers away from the area. But the boys and girls really could not tell any of the lessons, nor about some new things. It was as if they were in school then go only to fight, something to trade, chat and later — polapat girls … And the interest Timka gone to school. Yes, and they are not interested in school …

Timka girls did not like the way. Not at all, and these, it odnoselchanki. Actually, neither one of them he could not imagine next to him as a wife. And one day — three years ago — has stuck to the Baba Zina with questions about his father. But achieved only: "I do not know." The mother in the city do? I do not know, do not write, do not tell. And why had left something out? Not uzhilas.

And Timka almost got used to the idea that there will always be first with the woman Zina, then — one …

…They are not in poverty. Who came from the regional center of buyer-first eight-kid laughed, which was less than his gun, and gave some trifle for the skins, thinking that the boy was robbed someone traps or simply — for ill-luck. But a year later became a buyer-especially to celebrate the boy. A year later — to make it special orders orders. It makes no sense was ordered only wolves — they did not beat Timka, although one buyer-hour yelling at the boy, swearing that put him five thousand dollars for a black wolf. Timka heard swearing, went and raised the price. And in the first eleven years old boy poured — one on one — immediately in front of white-guy in his "gazelle" breast dull heavy concentrate. "I know the price — said the boy. — You’ll be giving as much for half price, but to nothing, where you take.’s Not that you do not live to be." Fence at work and in life was a man far from timid and carried with him a "pump" and the TT is not to boast. But then — looked calm in a golden amber … swallowed … and said, "All right." And did not break the word … not only because of fear. No. No, no, yes, and he caught himself thinking: "To my son be so …" — And sighed heavily. And I cover in excess of the stipulated half-integral, perebaryvaya firmly and wipe it would suck out his soul greed. And brought Timka new book, surprised how stupid feeling in bookstores …

…In general, Suvorov not live in misery. And very much so. Taciturn grandson. Enough to have a good long talk in my life and now, too, became silent grandmother. Two-thirds of the year grandson was in the forest. Grandmother read the same books, but for a long time sitting on the bench at the gate — either waiting for, or listening to something, or watching somewhere.

For Timka as firmly entrenched glory either a sorcerer, or a werewolf at all. From what the guy did not even luck — luck jamb? And more … here are saying … Willow Mound … know who have seen it there? And I do not know, and you keep quiet …

But at least this rumor was truthful. In their absences in the taiga Timka frequented by LOZOVAYA Kurgan.

***

It happened two years ago.

Timka was never afraid of the taiga and did not understand why there can be fear. They live animals. They have customs, laws … Language is. If all this is to understand and not to violate, the animals are not moved. Even the hunter because hunting — a part of their life too. The main thing — do not be a "predator." Then it will be bad. Very much. Timka was not. And came to the taiga, as a home.

On LOZOVAYA he loved to sit down — the warmth of the grass, and in the cold — on the stone outlier at the top, underneath themselves what to eat — and read. On the mound could be seen for miles taiga in the county. And yet there can often be heard singing as wolves.

Timka first heard their song for another five years to the day that it happened what happened. He was eight years old, and he spent the night on the mound, got tired of walking through the taiga — the day was hot, hmarny, some heavy.

The boy woke up at night. Trembling. But not from the cold, not with fear, but … at first he did not understand what had awakened him that raised? And then heard somewhere — somewhere on the edge of our world — a strange voice prints sticky note:

— Уоооооооуооооооойооооууууу …

Again and again sounded this wild song, and the boy was sitting near the stone, his eyes wide, he still as a stone. He could not hear enough, could not break away from the lingering notes floated then louder, then softer. And when the wolf farewell moaned:

— Awww … — Timka shuddered violently and suddenly burst into tears for the first time in his short and troubled life.

He came to the mound in two days. And, when it was getting dark, rose to the growth and shouted thin but firm voice:

— Sing, Gray!

He smiled incredulously when from somewhere — from the horizon? from the moon, maybe? — Swam majestic and eerie:

— Awww … yuuu … Awww … yuuu … ah-ah-ah … uuuu … ooooooouoooooooyoooouuuuu …

He started singing along to the tenth or eleventh time. Without embarrassment and without looking back, as it turned out, closing your eyes and just … that — simple, he did not know and did not want to know and be attacked with fists on anyone who would even think boring, stupid words to explain it to him fascinating ignorance. But soon got used to the fact that he was beginning to respond to vote. Not alone — a lot. Who are you, they asked. Go on, I’m here, posted Timka. No, no, laughing voice, you are a man, we hear. Go and ask the boy. No, no, the voice of the … but we will sing, and you sing too, man, sing … Let’s tell each other about the moon, the trees of the black of night, that the smell of the water stream and the forest that are whispering grass on the meadows in the morning, as you can run and suddenly notice that you’re flying — sing, man, sing and listen to our song. ..

…Many times he had seen in the forest wolves. And often thought — who they are talking to him on the mound? ..

…In the summer two years ago, came to Timka Lozovoy with a book. It was "Mowgli", had already been read, but remains one of the favorite books of thirteen boys. Timka settled down cross-legged on the grass and began to read.

He has long been a habit, which to many might seem weird and not quite normal. The boy was reading his favorite pieces especially loud. This happened simply from the fact that at the age of Timka was unnaturally silent for as long as he remained silent — almost all the time. Children’s nature demanded her, and he "poured out soul," reading out chunks of the books almost "by role" where no one could hear.

When reading a passage from violence Mowgli Shere Khan, Timka carried away completely. And yet he felt that he was not alone, looked up.

A large wolf sat at the foot of the hill, looking up at the boy.

It was just a wolf, it is easy to distinguish in the face, like a human woman from a human male. But the most interesting was the wool of the beast. She drained a heavy silver living as if a wolf wearing a strange armor.

— Hi, — said Timka.

He was not scared, was not surprised. He took what had happened, and as a tribute to the long-awaited.

Wolf tilted her head to his shoulder so funny and beautiful movement that the wolves is the same as that of people — attentive surprisingly, the willingness to listen more …

…The next day the boy saw her from afar. Like a monument to an unknown civilization, the she-wolf sat at the stone on the mound. And there arose when the boy walked — or rather ran — to her. Withers she got out to the waist rather big Timka.

— Hi, — said, as of yesterday, Timka. And down on his knees, with absolutely no fear embraced the wolf’s neck, although her teeth could tear up the boy’s throat as easily as he breaks a sheet of paper. Poterebil wool — a thick, her fingers did not touch the skin, even though the summer. Wolf boy easily pushed his head and he fell down, laughing in the grass, spread his arms. Silver fell down on his front paws and looking closely at Timka the same as his, eyes, tongue hung out. — I brought a book, — a mysterious whisper, the boy said, rising to his feet. — I worship …

…And after a day on the hill came with three half-grown wolf cub. And — a huge wolf, normal color. But he pomayachil downstairs, across the creek, and left. And the cubs climbed the hill for the mother, and the reading was postponed. Forgetting everything, Timka tinkered with the cubs as long as one of them bit his fingers. Hard. Of course, both cubs were biting each other much stronger, but the fingers of the human boy burst into blood, and Timka, biting her lip and sat down in the grass.

The cubs also sat on their tails. A bite of Timka undignified screamed — mother snatched him by the scruff of the neck.

— Oh, no! — Timka reached for the silver. — He did not mean it …

The cub, seeing that his regret, stepped on the squeal. Wolf rubles gained it again, and Timka growled, out of the way to bring up children. The other two wolf — brother and sister — with a respectful looked startled, as parent punishes the guilty and sympathetically kuvikali, shifting from foot to foot.

Punished wolf slumped sideways to Timka. And he began to lick his fingers — surprisingly strong, elastic tongue.

Blood was appeased almost immediately. And Timka picked up a book …

…The last time that year, he saw them in the early fall. And in winter — winter only heard, but not once sought a meeting (and thinking, is it really so reasonable — to meet with the flock?). And got used to the idea that a strange friendship again went only at night songs.

What a surprise it was a boy, when in the spring, on the first green, rising to Lozovoy, he literally stumbled upon the Silver!

He skated with the she-wolf in the young grass and kissed the cold wet nose, shouted something and laughed when she jokingly answered back, showing real hard terrible teeth. And then, breathing heavily, fell at the stone and said:

— And where they are? Grow up? ..

…Yes, they are grown, and Timka probably would not recognize them, happen to see. But Silver and her husband (the wolves are no roommates for an hour, like a lost tribe of the human mind, a pair of wolves almost always constant over many years) had new cubs — five! Now they came to the hill. And in June, the first night Timka singing, seeing those who sing along with him.

Was the moon, and the boy sat with one arm around the neck wolf. And on the other side is not very skillfully brought up their cubs … and responded in the forest and more voices.

***

Wolves in Zagrebuhah feared. Here are afraid — and although neither beast nor human beasts did not touch on human memory. Even raid staged, but real hunting skills were nearly lost forever tipsy muzhchikami — Wolves went, like water through your fingers. So the rumors about friends Timka only added to the fear and respect that the villagers had for a teenager.

And see? He is with them at night, walks like a pack of … Yes, he had seen on the meadow … the river — were running a race … Yes, what you want to be his mother … And he — you know, why not look at the girls? Wow! … Hush, hear the …

Timka did not care. While he was younger — delved tried — in questioning, in books — why people drink, lie, fight around, live as if came to the dump yesterday and will leave tomorrow … But neither the people nor the book could not give an answer. In the books, there was another world. But he is or was in the past or in the future lay. Therefore Timka for himself grasped — people are greedy, envious, stupid. For example, they did not seem to have heard that it is what they call "music", "singing" — literally crammed like cockroaches in the bank, rhythms, disrupting the hearing and brain. And listen to this poison. And drank poison — moonshine, vodka, beer, so dead and poisoned liquid that the wolf would not drink them, even when dying of thirst … They chose not to rule over a warrior, and loafers, pants, liars — and then tearfully cried, that they bad time. It was ridiculous and disgusting.

But sometimes even silly songs, even in a drunken chatter breaking through something … something like a bright flash. But people do or do not notice it — or notice, and they themselves fear of unknown impulse, sought immediately trampled and spat erupted light.

The people of the world were no better. They often came to hunt in the village and openly boasted to local wealth. Timka was ridiculous. They were called "wealth" painted paper with invented figures. And drank no less just drunk poison they were more expensive. Local fawning before them, and behind the eyes — hated and scorned for "wealth."

Only half of people visiting the boy saw that caused no contempt and pity. The first time — when he was eleven years old and he has not yet met with the Silver. Then came the hunt for a young man with almost the same as that Timka, look. And — strangely — chose the conductors is a boy. Forests visitor barely knew, but Timka saw that he looked like a man who, after a long absence, came home and now recognizes this house — with amazement and delight. Yet he did not say much, and it was good. And the evening around the campfire on the contrary — a conversation, and it too was good … Timka was sorry that he was gone. For a moment the boy thought: what if this is my father? And it was a bitter disappointment … Not a terse visitors, not — in hope.

The second was an old man who came this summer, American, dry and high, almost speaking in Russian. This and did not say two words in the forest. Only later, when I was leaving, he said briefly: "Save-Bow." That’s all. But he liked Timka …

***

It was nearly three in the morning. Sitting at the table, smoothed his hand Timka flyer Governor.

The wolf hunting from helicopters …

Timka never seen such myself. But in the forest dreams, when he saw the wolf eyes and felt their feelings, the boy realized it — the worst thing that can happen only. Scarier meeting this winter — for him.

In January, he spent the night in the forest over forty miles from Zagrebuh. Broke camp, everything as it should be. It was fifteen degrees below zero, the stars — had to move away from the fire — winked cheerfully. Timka and walked away.

He knew he was wandering around the city in December raised ohotnichkami rod. But do not fear, he knew that more than one shot is needed. Even, perhaps, like this meeting. And here …

Before the gun was ten steps. And to bear — standing "pig", skinny and with a huge — three steps. Feeling the smell of carrion, Timka realized that died and grabbed veryaskinsky long knife on his belt. And in the next moment — snow swirl darted dust, there was a vociferous roar — and no less than a dozen fast-moving shadows everywhere rushed to bear.

Timka froze for a moment, clutching the arms and bent down. In the snow fought and roared terrible tangle. And then, when the connecting rod with a grunt got a "man", throwing and shaking his roaring, snarling not even wolves — boy darted forward. And drove the thirty centimeters of steel under the left paw of anthracite with terrible claws …

…Bear managed to tear his left shoulder — to the bone. While he was near the fire washed and treated wounds three wolves — those to whom they could not get a shirtless sitting by the fire on the spruce branches — Silver licking the trace of the two claws on the boy’s shoulder. And the other wolves ring lying around in the snow — tails to the fire, noses to the forest. And porykivali, preventing any uninvited guest: Do not come! A leader, spouse, Silver, lying on wallowing in red trampled snow bear carcass — lifting her head with shining eyes.

Then Timka sleep — not in a sleeping bag and between multiple coiled around wolves, calm deep sleep. When it woke up — pack was not, and his "stove" immediately left, got up and trotted into the woods, barely saw a man stands up.

A shoulder there were only two swollen pink scar …

…When he dreamed of "wolf" dreams — he saw and hunting from helicopters, and the forest at different times of the year, and the wind in the trees and meadows, forest and dark water lakes, and fight for her friend, and funny cubs in a den … But he saw nothing. Sometimes, again dissolve waving rainbow veil. She broke through — and bring down towards summer, wind, wood … the slope of the hill and — far, far away, in the bluish haze — the city. And it was all … was not here. Not here — but it was … Timka in the dream did not understand it, let alone awake and could not understand. Several times he tried, he caught the muzzle Silver and looking her straight in the eye, thinking that dream, hoping for some kind of answer. But the wolf gently turn inside out of the hands …

… — They would be killed — said Timka aloud.

From a helicopter you can not hide, you can not escape. Shot Shot — Wolves in the snow spinning, falling, drawn in crimson mess … The cubs — are shaking about the mother, raised in the eyes — the uncomprehending horror. Powerless grin …

Kill them, but why? For what? This is not war, what happened in ancient times between human tribes and wolf packs — when the person has not lost mind, replacing it with a dead weight of "knowledge." This is not the production of food hungry when they hit without looking, trying to fill up a little more. It’s not even fight for the interest — who is stronger, smarter, more agile, faster, survive.

It’s just murder. Murder opupevshimi of fullness and power of those geeks who are a thousand times better and nobler them. Yes, they would have killed people in the same way if I were not afraid of punishment. Not his conscience, no — penalty! Get him out of fear — and these creatures will do anything to satisfy their whims.

The wolf can not shoot down a helicopter …

…Timka suddenly felt that he was alone in the house.

And he arose abruptly pushing the chair.

— Ba-a?

***

Baba Zina was buried, as was expected, the entire village. As it should be — all drunk immediately. They remembered what a good man was deceased, singing nonsense songs, fought, climbed to kiss each other and Timka.

He was sitting at the head table — sober, though to him and then pulled the glasses with a whitish poison (vypey. .. Sin … you can not drink for the deceased was not a sin … well … you’re human, not a man, I suppose. ..). Almost did not move for all the booze, but sometimes contorted lips curl of the lips. Yes, a couple of times the boy’s eyes met with Zakharov.

They were all sitting in the bottom of the table — he grandfather Stepan, three sons, eleven grandchildren. Oh, and "women" as a wholesale called grandfather Stepan all the female part of the family. Barely took a sip of vodka, talked quietly about something else … Zakharovs Zagrebuhe were the only family to which Timka not feel squeamish pity. And now — a drunken whirlwind quickly lose the human form as the villagers have flowed around them. Then they got up and went grandly, one to the "master" — to bow before leaving. Grandfather Stepan, bending, said:

— Look, lad. You know that there is one to come.

— Thank you — just quietly replied Timka. — Do not come.

— Yes, I mean, that he knew — a powerful old man said quietly and left the last of her.

A Timka was sit and watch with a smile on things happening around the naughty gray with amber eyes.

Baba Zina died in her sleep. Around her bed, next to a lighted lamp, left lying book — "The Young Guard" Fadeev.

Timka read this book. For boys and girls, of whom there was told, he had no contempt. And there was no pity, because everything was clear. You can not feel sorry for those who died for the flock in a fight with another pack. We must admire and remember. If you forget — your flock will die.

I have to remember at least one. At least one person.

***

Still, he was too late.

All open space — from the river to Lozovoy Barrow — were strewn here and there, black on white with red dots spots. Above all this flying — round and round — small helicopter-like dragonfly overgrown with meaningless eyes.

Timka breathing hard. And suddenly I saw — there, in the distance. Near the mound …

…Cry, he rushed — waving his arms — the edge of the field where it was closer to the mound …

…Rest for long — five minutes. time to drink this coffee, brought guest of his hot countries. Poured even the pilot. Guest, Puig Cherneev eyes and waving his arms, showing how he shot: a bunch! Bunch! And something babbled on monkey dialect … Puck thought Governor contemptuously. If not for your millions — you would see a bunch. And then — the room with the women to him. Here’s a room with other women. So much for hunting. Pook.

He is so angry that he broke the guest:

— We ought to fly, collect trophies — he said in English. Guest nodded again rattled.

All three of them went to the helicopter.

— Pshel — said the governor head of security, check the vehicle. He bounced …

…Mindlessly staring dissolve Lozovoy Barrow, Governor suddenly remembered and he’s been here. Many times. Strangely, even that has been forgotten … and still have something important to remember …

— Hey, who’s this? — Asked in amazement pilot, decelerating and taking the left.

— Lord, — said, turning cold, Governor.

He could see everything at once.

The man in the fur coat unbuttoned, his legs wide apart, which seemed fine in shaggy fur boots, standing on top of a hill. Whirlwind of helicopter rotor side and threw back to back brown hair. The dark and the cold winds of the face — the face boy — was impassive, and his feet sat a large silver wolf and clung to her two wolf.

In all of this picture was something so terrible and majestic that the governor did not even raise his gift — a great self-loading rifle with optics, with explosive bullets with a silver engraved on an elegant bed.

— Lord, — he said and wanted to cross, when the boy raised his old rifle-barreled gun. But the hand petrified.

— Shoot! Fucking shoot, he put us! — Shouted the pilot, maybe for the first time calling the host to "you." Something rattled Guest. A governor looked and looked and could not get enough of what he saw — looked a long time, staring forever, even though he knew that were a matter of seconds …

Left barrel bloomed pale flame, and the Governor died … but in the next moment understood — not in it. The pilot stuck his head remains in control. Something screamed Guest. The helicopter roared climbed higher … above … above … froze …

And the governor saw … saw the old creek bank, and … another boy himself — himself, a boy who whispered, lying in the grass and looking at the sky, "beautiful … beautiful … beautiful" — whispered fervently, I do not really realizing that says …

Then he realized — an unusually clearly understood! — That he does not want to live, that there is no need to live, that he in fact is long dead, because he is long dead boy … he had killed when he refused to baby talk about the beauty of the sky, the beauty of the earth, the beauty of the creek …

And when the governor knew it, he smiled and said to the boy on the mound:

— Thank you.

Something squealed in mortal terror Guest. Mota near the pilot’s body.

Carbine fell down.

A few seconds later the helicopter, throwing in bits and pieces cabin, saloon, fragments of skis and screws, dead and alive, which in fact no longer be alive — hit the cedars on the other side of the creek.

***

Timka long and mindlessly eating snow, kneeling and looking like a burn or explode on the other side. His eyes reflected the flames of a fire. Then he raised the "bemku," and pulled the sleeve, an old habit hid it in his pocket. More then looked around and said:

— Silver.

His voice sounded hoarse and rough boy.

Wolf was lying next to the snow, looking golden eyes. And the cubs, whining, get up fur boots man.

Timka picked them up by the collar, and puppies at first thinly growled, but then preloaded the tails and hung in the air. Timka a little shook up both. Silver looked at the boy’s eyes, which had no concern.

Timka cubs put on his shoulders and began to stroke the warm hairy backs.

— Well? — He asked the she-wolf.

She stood up. And slowly went down hill. In a couple of steps looked back, cocked her head to one side.

Timka pulled the cubs in the snow, and they trotted behind her mother. But half-way stop. Looked back, whimpering. They were waiting. And waited Silver …

— I’m going — Timka said, and rose to one knee, began to tie up skiing. — What can we. I’m going. Now, wait a minute.

***

They searched for him. Searched long and hard, was too much of an uproar. But could not find — just where the western slope of the mound down to the ice stream, showed traces.

Two bands from the broad samodelkovyh skis lined kamus — and around three chains wolf tracks. One large, two — small.

Traces rested in shallow water and a black …

…and no longer occur.

Nowhere.

Oleg Vereshchagin

In the W O L O N O C

All the boys in my country

Hunted wolf. Concha scores.

He took a step — and fell to the pavement cheek.

And who is now the case that the father is not working

And his mother three weeks, slipped on a binge?

Well, all right. Right. Broken Glass.

Ticket office opened, an alarm signal is triggered …

Crimes. The classical picture.

And the patrol at the entrance wolf caught.

Drove the stairs. Through the attic — and the roof.

Its edge — and breakage. Here chase up.

But higher … Only the gray sky above.

And he cried out — helpless God …

The tiredness came immediately to replace fear.

(And on the roof of the gray shadows crept …)

And vzvihrilis bills rustled against the wall.

There was a short flight — five seconds to land.

And, holding her mouth, the girl froze.

And passers-by like someone ordered a "stop!"

And the sergeant, heated chase,

With a soft mat wiped the sweat from his forehead.

And pulled up "fast." Heavy rain washed the pavement.

Blood dripped from a divided mind.

Soaking in pools of notes. And someone on the sly

They shoveled the shoe closer. Reality. Alas …

The mother did not come out — lay helpless deck.

And with myocardial father went to the "first" the other.

Only a girl screaming, "They killed, you bastards!"

But she did not hear. It was a howl of sirens.

Three days later, a wolf cub quietly buried.

But the rain — rain came all three days.

Coffin cheap workers into the water piled up.

Pelted with manure, Burch: "Kolgotnya …"

What’s left — left. The girl was crying.

And sullen boy pulled beer …

And then suddenly the clouds between the stars Show

And someone said quietly, "Maybe there, far away …"

…And no they could not show, unfortunately,

How spilled over the forest green bright light

And draining painful night vision …

…And the wolf that morning woke up in the grass.

A. Martynov

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