Chapter 879 Old Hunter
December 31, 1991, the deserted suburbs of Verkhoyansk.
"Duo."
The jet-black Yakut dagger cut vertically, and a thin strip of fish meat was cut off the oblique ventral side of a whole frozen crucian carp. When the ice-crusted fish meat fell on the light brown birch wood chopping board, it rolled up naturally. Not far from the chopping board, the stove in the wooden house continuously provided heat in an attempt to soften the frozen fish rolls, but this temperature was just a drop in the bucket today at minus 53 degrees Celsius.
At the table, 55-year-old old hunter Alian put down his black iron dagger, picked up the fish meat cut off on the chopping board with two fingers, then threw it into his mouth and chewed it. He closed his eyes to make sure that the fish meat was sweet and delicious. Finally, he decided to eat this 2-pound crucian carp for dinner tonight.
When Old Arian picked up the dagger again, there was a slight tapping sound from the window of the wooden house. He turned around and looked out the window. He saw the dark and dense coniferous forest surrounding the wooden house and a little winter wind with snow. No one was flapping him. The window of the home is a message brought by the cold wind in winter, announcing that a snowstorm is coming.
Old Arian turned back and continued to cut the frozen crucian carp with a dagger. He had to step up his preparations for dinner because he had not finished the necessary work for today. He still needed to go out after he had enough food and clothing to gain strength. On a trip outside, he moved the firewood he chopped back in the morning into the wooden house, and picked up the rope traps and hunting traps set up in the coniferous forest to catch rabbits, so as to prevent him from losing many of the tools he relied on for his livelihood when the snowstorm arrived.
"Snow is on the ground, but meat is in the barn." This is a popular saying among the Yakut people who have grown up in the northern permafrost of Siberia since ancient times. In their eyes, fierce snowstorms are never a disaster, but a good omen for a good harvest. Every time after a blizzard, the Yana River freezes and the coniferous forests are buried in snow, the harvest of fishing and rabbit hunting will be greatly increased. These are the harvests brought by the blizzard to the Yakut people.
But just today, old hunter Alian looked up out of the window from time to time, looking at the corner of the sky where the coniferous forest was missing. Behind the snow-covered white dragon-like Vikoyansk Mountains, the long gray line rolled over the sky. Like a wall of infinite length and width that wants to swallow up everything it passes by - he once heard travelers from his motherland, the Soviet Union, say that at the other end of the world, there is a yellow blizzard, which is equally ferocious and majestic. The same roaring and terrifying, but the yellow blizzard is far less kind than Siberia. They are destined to bring only death and destruction, roaring endlessly across the earth, like a furious dragon devouring the world.
This reminded him of the strange scene on Christmas Eve a week ago, the terrifying sound coming from the other side of the mountains, so ancient and desolate, as if it spanned the years beyond the Siberian frozen soil, like muffled thunder, and Like the roar of the wind, causing landslides and rolling snow. Old Arian always couldn't help but think that if nature has life, then it must be the long cry from the heart of nature, which makes those who hear it feel shocked and awe.
"Duo."
Yakut's dagger neatly cut off the fresh meat of the frozen crucian carp, and scarlet blood splashed onto the chopping board. The irregular pool of blood reflected the light in the stove, but it quickly solidified and was covered with a layer of frost. Old Arian, who was distracted and in pain, cursed in a low voice and immediately put down the dagger. Under the light of the fire, a very deep gash was cut out of his left hand and blood was oozing out.
"You are really old and useless." The wrinkles on his forehead illuminated by the fire tightened. As he sighed, Old Arian turned around and found the gauze, took a sip of Red Label vodka produced in Moscow, and sprayed some wine vapor on the wound—— This is also the benefit of North Siberia’s frozen soil. In the ultra-clean cold area, there is no room for tetanus to survive, and people here rarely die from viral and bacterial infections.
But while bandaging the tiger's mouth on his left hand, the old hunter also frowned deeply. Seeing red is never a good sign, especially when it is time to say goodbye to the old and welcome the new. He was a little worried about what to do with the other tasks he had left today. Done.
Now it seems that I can't use my hand hard or suffer from the cold for the time being. Apart from barely being able to go out of the hut for a while, other things can only be put on hold until after the snowstorm is over. I hope that by then I will release those trappers in the coniferous forest. Don't bury the clip and the noose too deep. Every loss of one is a heartache for him.
Feeling depressed and depressed, old Arian, who was sitting by the stove, subconsciously reached into his chest pocket. He took out a black and white photo and glanced at it until the wood on the stove crackled and the fire gradually weakened. Only then did I take back the photos and start adding wood.
The sound of the windows being hit by the wind became louder and louder, and the sky darkened before nightfall. The entire coniferous forest undulated with the wind like a black grassland. Everything foreshadowed that the coming snowstorm would be huge. , unprecedentedly large, the lights in the distant town of Verkhoyansk were also extinguished early, and they lay on the ground and huddled up, waiting for the snow to come.
"Bloody blizzard."
For the first time, old Arian looked out the window at the wind and snow that had grown stronger, and cursed the howling of winter that had once been regarded as auspicious signs of a good harvest. He turned around and walked towards the wooden table to continue cooking tonight's dinner. Even if his hand was injured, he could not delay filling his stomach. Just when he was about to wipe the dagger stained with his own blood, he suddenly heard someone knocking. Door.
——
Dong-dong-dong, there was a knock on the door of the wooden house.
——
It is not easy to distinguish the knocking on the door in a snowstorm. It is easy to confuse the sound of the wind with the knocking on the door. But now the old Aryan will definitely not mistake the sound he heard at this moment. Is it a person knocking on the door or the wind knocking on the door, because he can guarantee that no evil wind can knock the tune of "Katyusha" on the wooden door of his house.
Old Aryan stood up from the table and walked towards the wooden door. When passing by the stove, he took down the double-barreled shotgun hanging high, checked the chamber and loaded the ammunition.
Even if it is far away from the noisy and chaotic big cities of the motherland, Verkhoyansk is not a pure land that stays open at night. On the contrary, due to the harsh environment, many people here have tough customs. When hunting, skinning, and bone extraction become a necessary skill for everyone, what will they face? The security issues are also obvious.
There are always some brats or people who get something for nothing who like to do things like robbing houses. Snowstorm days are also their favorite time, because when they break into a house at this special time, the snowstorm will become a cover for those screams and resistance. Sound's best partner - this is also the kindness of Blizzard, the kindness to villains.
When old Aryan stood at the door, the knocking on the door of "Katyusha" stopped. Just as old Aryan gradually became suspicious, the knocking on the door rang again, but this time it changed. The tune is "Kalinka", which means "Snowball Flower" in Russian. It is probably a song about love, but after a few verses of the chorus, it seemed that the other party felt that this song was not suitable for the occasion. It was simply changed into "Night on the Suburbs of Moscow".
"."
Old Arian didn't know whether the other party would freeze to death first or come up with more new tricks if he kept waiting like this, but he admitted that the man outside the door who kept changing his music in different ways aroused his interest. Besides, He had always been a warm-hearted person - old and lonely old people are usually warm-hearted - so he chose to open the door.
The double-barreled shotgun was held high in the right hand, and the left hand wrapped in gauze opened the wooden door. Before he could see clearly who was outside, Old Arian took half a step back and resumed holding the gun with both hands. A large amount of wind and snow immediately roared outside the door. It poured into the room through the crack in the door, and the flames in the stove were dimmed a lot.
Old Arian raised his hands and squinted to block the wind and snow, and saw clearly the person standing at the door. This person was wearing a thick white coat made of reindeer fur to keep out the cold, a dark blue hat on his head, and a dark plush neck cover. Half of her face is covered, and from the exposed part, it can be seen that she is actually a good-looking young woman. She is carrying a brown long bow and quiver on her back. She should be a hunter?
"Don't shoot!" the woman shouted in Russian immediately after seeing the black barrel of the gun.
It's from the town.
Old Arian took one look at the dress and skin color of the huntress and determined her origin. Unlike the Caucasians in Moscow, this huntress had a typical Yakut yellow skin, blown by the biting wind and snow. Her face was red, and thin scars crawled out from under the collar, but they still couldn't hide her youthful and beautiful appearance.
"Don't shoot. I'm really sorry to disturb you. Are you the owner of this room? My name is Lyubov (Yakut's name). I encountered a snowstorm on my way back from hunting rabbits. I guess I can't get back now. It's possible. I originally wanted to go into the coniferous forest to take shelter from the wind, but I didn't expect that when I saw the fire in your house, I came over and wanted to borrow a place to take shelter." The huntress who lowered her head to take shelter from the wind came from the neckband. She yelled. I couldn't help but roar, the howling of the wind and snow outside almost turned the sky and the earth upside down, and this was just the warm-up before the real blizzard came.
Old Arian raised his brows, and his wrinkles were squeezed together. He looked at the other person up and down with his cloudy eyes, and without hesitating for too long, he lowered his gun and nodded, "Come in!" She chose to share her shelter, but if she really refused to allow the other person to stay outside the door, she would probably be buried in the white dragon-like snow and her body would be wiped out when the blizzard came.
The female hunter felt like she was being amnesty, and she thanked her as she went inside. As he was about to close the door, old Aryan heard an increasingly rumbling sound. Holding the shotgun, he looked out at the world before the approaching snowstorm.
Everyone thinks that the snowstorm is white, but in fact when it actually comes, you will find that it is actually blue, which is a dark blue close to ink. Before it reaches the whole world, it is covered with this deep color. Blue, the endless coniferous forest is dim and deep, too lazy to be gloomy and dull.
There was a loud noise in the wind and snow in the distance. It was the long gray rolling dragon that finally crossed the long mountain range and engulfed the entire mountain peak. In the roaring sound, you can imagine an avalanche rolling down from the towering mountain like a dragon. Below, it swallowed up the large coniferous trees at the foot of the mountain.
A big snowstorm has arrived.