Chapter 2

Winding like a snake among the towering hills, the barely noticeable taiga trail meandered. Two people were confidently walking along it, unwittingly bending under the weight of their bloated backpacks. Hunters already lost count of the number of flat ridges they overcame, the cliffs they bypassed, the mountain rivers they crossed, resisting the rapid current that was knocking them down. But they stubbornly moved to the target. Two days on way. Exhausting days and short night breaks. Sleep was more similar to wakefulness, and with the dawn, they were on the road again. The sweat, flooding the eyes. Stinging bites of mosquitoes and midges. They were already a little interested in how many kilometres were left behind. They were more concerned with when this crazy transition would be completed. But the end justified the means. People were almost exhausted but with an animal’s tenacity moved to the bear thawed patch in anticipation of the desired prey. Bear bile was highly valued on the black market, and they could make good money. They could also sell pads and skin. All this promised a significant amount of money, which they would not earn for a year in the timber industry enterprise. The meat would remain for the winter, so they would no longer need to buy pork, prices on which rose significantly this year. It would be a really good catch. The bear was a dangerous beast, but it was not the first time they were hunting for it, at least for one of the hunters. And that encourage optimism that they would not come back without the prey. Besides, they both were experienced riflemen, well armed. The worn-out lacquered butts of double-barrelled guns crushed against the khakis, and leather cells of cartridges were packed with explosive bullets, which would be enough to shoot all the bears in the area. The last steep ascent, and the hunters finally came to the desired area. From the top of the hill, taiga spread before the eyes; at feet, as far as one could see, there was the magnificent cedar forest, and only at the bank of the mountain river winding like a silver thread, willows and birches timidly clung.

– Here we come! – the elderly hunter satisfactorily chuckled, gently going down the flat slope, and assured: – When we cross the river we will be at the right place! – On the next turn, leaning his backpack against the tree, he wiped big drops of sweat sliding down his stubborn forehead with his wide calloused palm, and, smoothing back his soft grey hair, thoughtfully concluded: – There are two more kilometres left! We will go to the river and at the ‘dead wood’ out there, on the Grishenskaya clearing, we will set up a camp!

– You just made me happy! – The black-haired man, twenty years younger than his companion, wearily exhaled. He tried not to lag behind his older comrade, whom this familiar terrain sort of gave more strength, and disappointedly complained: – This walk to the ‘cordon’ has finally exhausted me! I have no strength to carry this damn backpack! I have the feeling that my wife put some bricks in it on some purpose for me to die on the way! – And he threatened dully: – I will come back and will make her run around the house with this backpack! She will see the circus! She put so many useless things there like I was going to taiga not for three days but for the winter! She can only dream about this! – The hunter’s anger had no limit. – Give a fool rope enough, and she will hang herself! Damn! – The man looked like he was thirty-five years old; one could call him handsome, tightly built, scrubby and broad-shouldered, vaguely resembling the English bulldog, with the same crooked feet and with a protruding lower jaw. But his black eyes, looking frowningly, were the most scaring, as insane lights were blazing in them with bright flashes. Not everyone in the village could withstand this look of a pissed-off beast burning with hatred without that treacherous feeling of chills of fear. For his uncontrollable violent nature, Michael was known among the villagers as a fierce brawler. Hot-tempered, getting angry in a flick of a finger, he constantly got into fights, most of which he had started. People were afraid of him and tried to avoid in order not to get in the heat of the moment. He was not just a cruel man but a real sadist, who knew no pity and compassion. Often getting drunk to unconsciousness, he was brutally beating his wife, throwing into action his heavy fists. And when she lost consciousness, he was beating her, already lying on the floor, with his feet, after which she rested in bed for weeks, barely recovering from the beating. He always had the reasons for the use of brute force, so the woman had bruises and abrasions on her swollen face for months, demonstrating to others the hard temper of her husband. Although he often got drunk and constantly kicked up a row, no one could object to the fact that Mikhail was a skilful and desperate hunter. He alone was hunting for the wild boar, and sometimes he even brought the elk. And once he strangled with his bare hands a full-grown wolf that attacked him, the skin of which now covered the floor of the kitchen, serving as direct evidence of his strength. In his lifetime, he killed many animals, but this was the first time he was hunting for bear. And he hoped not to lose his face in front of the senior fellow, relying on his accuracy and significant experience in hunting for other big animals.

– My goodness! We reached our destination! – Sergey Petrovich contentedly exhaled, promptly throwing the backpack to the ground and wearily sitting down next: – Now it is a matter of technique – to find the bear and to take aim at it! And the rest comes down to luck: either we will kill it or it will kill us! There is no other way! – The man laughed out loud, showing his teeth yellowed from nicotine, looking around the clearing with tenacious hunter’s eyes and trying to find even the slightest indication of the presence of the master of taiga.

– Finally! – Mikhail sighed with relief, sitting down beside his friend, and quickly took off kersey boots, providing rest for his legs tired of walking. – What a bliss! – The man tenderly moaned, stretching out his bare feet and considering the reddened fingers. Though he was not a physically weak man, but even he had been exhausted by the forty-kilometre marathon. – Couldn’t you find a closer spot for hunting for bear?!

– At closer places, all the animals have been shot! – Sergey Petrovich said in a mocking tone, rolling the home-grown tobacco and wetting the cigarette paper with saliva. – There are more people in the woods than mushrooms! They killed all the animals!

– That’s true! – Mikhail confirmed, alternately massaging the soles of the feet, and said dreamily: – I would like to take a nap for an hour or two! It would be good to relax a little and to begin hunting with fresh vigour!

– We will catch up on sleep in the afterlife! – Sergey Petrovich said mockingly. – We are running out of time! Firstly, we need to set up a camp until dark! And secondly, we need to have a bite! Nobody knows when we will have time to eat! – and, untying the backpack, he peevishly began to complain: – Real men should eat well! One cannot be fed with sleep only! We need meat! Lots of meat! All man’s strength is in meat! And we need a lot of strength today! Really! Bears eat wimps for lunch! The moment you gape, relax, and it will get you! It will grab you in the pads, and you will be dead!

– Stop lamenting! We are not of the chaff too! We will be able to stand up for ourselves! – Mikhail snapped, lovingly stroking the lacquered butt of the double-barrelled gun. – And this gun will kill not only a bear but an elephant! A bear for my ‘old lady’ is like a mouse for a cat! It will be gone in a flick of a finger!

– Everything happens for the first time! Watch out! – Sergey Petrovich gently mocked, glancing slyly at the new gun of his friend. – Even the most expensive guns, especially the new ones, can misfire! One should not have faith in them! Certainly, your gun is impressive! Beautiful! But you have not shot it yet! You should have taken the old Berdan rifle. It is like Robin Hood – hits the bull’s eye! – Mikhail just shrugged, not even trying to argue. But the old man instructively continued: – You always need to be ready for anything! And especially for troubles! They are just waiting to stab you in the back! Old guns, like ‘old ladies’, are tested over the years, and the new ones are not! There is no guarantee! It is like a young married woman: it has everything but there is no reliability! And a bear is not a harmless mouse! It will attack you from the back in the twinkling of an eye! And to smash a man – a piece of cake, as it weighs a hundred kilograms! No man can withstand this! Such beast is walking through the woods, and when some branch crackles it hides in the bushes and waits for people to pass by! And then it pops up, and the person is gone forever! To hunt for bear is not the same as to chase women! You must always be on the alert! Even experienced hunters got into troubles, becoming victims of their own overconfidence, forgetting that occasion commands fate! Only fools are treating all the animals in the same way! And animals, like people, have their own habits and tempers! Sometimes, the hare attacks the hunter! – Sergey Petrovich thoughtfully ruffled his grey hair with his hand and said in a dull voice: – I will tell you one story, narrated by my old friend from Irkutsk, with whom we had spent more than one night in blinds on the salt-marshes hunting for moose! – The old man absently nodded, as if he immersed in the past. – You know! You come to ‘scatter’ before dark for the beast not to smell your tracks and, while waiting for the dusk, there is time to have a heart to heart talk! So, that’s what he told me! It happened in Slyudyanka ten years ago! – he began to look intently at his fellow, who was incredulously grinning, and said passionately: – There is nothing funny here! Trust me, it is not a fictional story! My father, rest his soul, – the old man superstitiously made the sign of the cross, – told that in the old days it was a matter of honour for the hunter to go after a bear with a spear! A spear and a knife, and nothing more! Eye to eye, one on one! That’s prowess! But sometimes there were even more desperate brave men, who engaged themselves in mortal combat with a bear, wielding a knife and a hat!

– It is a pity that they did not do this with a hammer and a foot wrap! – Mikhail hoarsely laughed, not doubting that the whole ‘true’ story was a hunting fable. – You wave a handkerchief and a bear rushes from the bushes, like a bull to a red rag! You slash it on the neck and its head rolls off, like a ball! It is not hunt but a real harvest! You go into the woods to mow some meat for the winter, and then sell the skins! What a bliss! No expenses! Only profit! – laughing, he continued to twist nimbly between his fingers the galvanised cartridge loaded with a lead bullet, notched slightly on top in the form of a cross. The destructive power of an explosive bullet was incredible. Entering the body as a small neat point, it could go unpredictably anywhere, taking out all the insides.

– Do not sneer, doubting Thomas! Young people always laugh! But in vain! Better make a mental note and remembered! Hunting is a serious thing! Like in school, one needs to learn! And you, simpletons, have nobody else to teach you a lesson, except for us, old people! We all are heroes by word of mouth, and once it comes to actions, we hide in the bushes! Showing off egos! One empty bravado! One does not need to be very smart to kill a bear with a rifle. One only needs cartridges and an accurate eye for this! Hand-to-hand combat is another thing! – he waved his hand dully. – Not everyone has enough spirit to cope with a bear, especially only with a knife! – The old man positively nodded, agreeing with his words. – The skin of the beast is solid and tanned, bones are strong, and it skilfully wields its pads! Hunter’s one and only chance to deal a fatal blow is to hit the heart through the ribs! It takes a special skill, honed for years! Not every hunter is good! A person must possess many qualities: bravery and self-control, as well as agility and presence of mind! Certainly, one needs to have strength! But then, one gets so much pleasure when a full-grown beast lies dead at one’s feet, defeated in a fair fight! But not everyone will make up one’s mind to do this! The coward chooses the easy way, using means that are safe for life! Traps, rifles with telescopic sights, iron hinges! He kills the beast, sometimes, not even seeing it, and then boasts of his dangerous adventures! And there is nothing to boast of, as he stayed in the bushes! A real hunter encounters danger face to face, chest to chest, eye to eye! – he sighed heavily. – But it is impossible to foresee everything! Man proposes, but God disposes! Luck is a capricious girl! – the man helplessly lifted his hands in dismay. – Sometimes, life brings us unexpected surprises! Anything might happen! And then all your hard work goes down the drain! It seems that you have done everything right, calculated every step and movement correctly! But no, there is some problem, some absurd mistake that costs you your life! It can be an unforeseen circumstance, a tragic intervention of fate that ruins all the plans! It turns out, – Sergey Petrovich significantly clicked his tongue, – there are phenomena among animals that react differently to the developed approach, in a non-standard way of behaviour! It happened with that bear-hunter! For many years, he successfully used the simplest way of the hunt: he tore off his cap, raised his hand defiantly, forcing the animal instinctively rise up on its hind pads, and abruptly threw a cap into the bear’s head! The bear involuntarily blinked, getting hit in the eyes, and the hunter, meanwhile, nimbly jumped close to it and plunged the knife in the heart with a strong blow! One blow was enough for the animal to fall dead on the ground!

– Wow! – Mikhail admiringly exclaimed, having opened his mouth in surprise. – That’s a great skill!