December 31, 1991, the deserted suburbs of Verkhoyansk.
"Duo."
The jet-black Yakut dagger cut vertically, and cut a thin strip of fish meat from the oblique ventral side of a whole frozen crucian carp. When the ice-crusted fish meat fell on the pale brown birch eucalyptus board, it rolled up naturally.
Not far from the eucalyptus board, the stove in the wooden house continuously provided heat in an attempt to soften the frozen fish rolls, but this temperature was only 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 from the eucalyptus board with two fingers, threw it into his mouth, chewed it, and closed his eyes to make sure that the fish meat was sweet.
After it tasted delicious, he decided to eat this crucian carp, which weighed a full 2 kilograms, for dinner tonight.
When Old Arian picked up the dagger again, there was a slight slapping 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 slapping him.
The window of your home is a message brought by the cold winter wind, 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.
He went outside to carry the firewood he had brought 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, lest he lose 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 sign of a good harvest. Every day
Once after a blizzard, the Yana River freezes over 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.
Just like a wall of infinite length and width that wants to swallow up everything it passes by. He once heard a traveler from his motherland, the Soviet Union, say that at the other end of the world, there is a yellow snowstorm, the same ferocious and majestic, the same
The rumblings are terrifying, but the yellow blizzards are far less kind than Siberia. They are destined to bring only death and destruction, roaring endlessly across the earth, like an angry 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 could not help but think that if there is life in nature, 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. Scarlet blood splashed onto the eucalyptus board. The irregular pool of blood reflected the light in the stove, but it quickly solidified and was covered with a layer of frost. He was distracted.
The pained old Arian 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. In sighing, 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 was also
The advantage of the frozen soil in Northern Siberia is that 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 mouth of his left hand, the old hunter also frowned deeply. Seeing red is never a good sign, especially on the occasion of saying goodbye to the old and welcoming the new. He was a little worried about what to do with the other tasks left today.
Already.
Now it seems that I can't use my hand hard or suffer from the cold for the time being. Apart from 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 the 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 bored, 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, which was once considered auspicious for a good harvest. He turned and walked towards the wooden table to continue cooking tonight's dinner, even if his hand was injured.
The matter of filling his stomach cannot be delayed. Just when he was about to wipe the dagger stained with his own blood, he suddenly heard someone knocking on the 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 mix the sound of the wind with the knocking on the door, but 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 homes. Snowstorm days are also their favorite time, because if they break into a house at this special time, the snowstorm will become a cover for those screams and resistance.
Sound's best friend 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 when 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 typing 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. Moreover,
He has always been a warm-hearted and lonely old man who is 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 hand 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.
He'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 neckband, 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 Liu Bofu (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 was almost turning the sky and the earth upside down, and this was just the warm-up before the real blizzard came.
Old Arian raised his eyebrows, and his wrinkles were squeezed into a ball. 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!" He chose
In order to share this shelter of hers, if she really refuses to let the other person outside the door cruelly, I am afraid that when the blizzard comes, she will be buried in the white dragon-like snow without any bones left.
The female hunter felt like she was being amnested, so she thanked her while getting in. As he was preparing 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, a dark blue that is close to ink. Before it reaches the whole world, it is covered with this deep color.
Blue, the endless coniferous forest is gloomy and deep, lazy and gloomy.
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 engulfed a large area of coniferous trees at the foot of the mountain.