«Your long braids are falling, Heavenly Nye, with a seven-fold silk sable from the mouth of the deep-water Ob to the Kara Sea itself. At night, under the moonlight and a thousand stars, your hair illuminates everything around. Even for our daughter moonlight and stars illuminate your face. On a clear day, your braids illuminate summer land covered with a green carpet, winter land with a white snow coat. Let the ends of your golden braids touch the head of our baby. Each of your fingers is wearing countless gold and silver, expensive and cheap rings – gifts of all the women of the Khanty land that gave birth or wish to have children. Take the ring from me too!»

At the sacred labaz, Levne laid a scarf with a silver ring tied in a corner and several hairs of a newborn girl. This was a gift to her, the Goddess of mothers. She was to decide the fate of the little Tatar by birth, and Khanty by fate, as the Khanty goddess Kaltashch Anki gave her life on the edge of this cold, frosty earth. That day she started writing every step of the girl in the sacred paper ornament, her whole life, whether it was long or short, rich or poor, happy or unhappy. She could send her disease if the child's mother had unkind thoughts, or send joyful days if the child's mother had bright thoughts.

Like the legends say about Kaltashch anki:

 
Turam the father allowed her, the beautiful, to be stronger than all the gods.
Turam the father put her, the almighty, above all the gods.
She was given the right – to continue life,
She was given the right – to give life,
She was given the right – to run life,
She was given the right – to resurrect life.
 

She was commanded by Turam to be stronger and higher than hundreds of Khanty gods in Heaven and on earth. Only the Great Almighty Turam gave her the right to authorize the birth of not only a child on earth, but also all animals, birds and insects. She gives life to men, and she takes it away. Her golden staff has many threads of deer veins, from which the goddess knots out the length of a newborn's life. How long a person lives in the world depends on this knot of life.

God Turam created the Khanty man, but it turned out that procreation depends on the woman. Therefore, the Almighty Turam gave this great power to his daughter Kaltashch – to be the Mother of all mothers, of all people on earth.

According to legends, if Turam had not given the Great rights to Kaltashch, the Khanty land would be empty without people. Without a woman, there is no life on earth, no continuation.

All women living on the Khanty land are in full view. She decides on procreation in the family, and woe betides women if the Mother Goddess does not look into their families. Punishing for a serious sin, she will not give a child to this family. A tree of a whole family will dry up; there will be no one to remember people after their death.

For years childless husbands and wives try to atone for their family and tribal sins, offering sacrifices to the Deer Goddess, giving gifts, but rarely does she forgive. It is hard to atone for the sin of killing, betrayal or the insult inflicted on Khanty spirits and gods. Earthly woman only carry the child and give birth, but it is Great Nye who gives the first breath, gives soul to a newborn. That's why Khanty women cannot rejoice at the child presented by the goddess Kaltashch for their entire lives.

For the poor upbringing, especially for the condemnation of other people, Kaltashch could punish a mother or a child with serious illnesses, which all women were so afraid of.

Therefore, Khanty women thank Heavenly Mother all their lives, and took care of their children. They brought them up as it is sung in her song – a message to people:

 
I give a beautiful daughter, beautiful Nye!
I give a strong son, beautiful Nye!
Good girls grow like brightest colors,
Good boys grow like rich grass.
Giving glorious daughter to a woman
Giving a good son to a woman
I, the Golden-Haired Priceless Nye
Thereby command,
Thereby bequeath.
May my covenants be fulfilled:
Ample tables with hot food.
Those striving for good luck set a table
Bringing bloody sacrifice to me!
 

Behind the sacred corner of Anshem iki's house, the mothers made fires on the iron sheet – a cleansing fire for women and children. They set up a low table with products – hot food and refreshments for Kaltashch Anki and patrimonial spirits. This is what Kaltashch Anki bequeathed to do in gratitude for the child.

Levne took out a small piece of otter fur and a birch growth – ush, conductors for cleansing the unkind spirits. All this was thoroughly burned in the fire, and sacred smoke rose above the children and guests.

Children and their mothers cheerfully jumped over the smoke purifying flesh and soul, saying:

 
«Shanaku, ponaku! Put some luck!
Shanaku, ponaku! Put some luck!
Shanaku, ponaku! Put some luck!»
 

Khutline picked up the newborn, jumped over the fire three times, and repeated after the children:

 
«Shanaku, ponaku!
Shanaku, ponaku!
Shanaku, ponaku!
 
 
Kaltashch Anki, give healthy legs and arms to my Altam evi!
Let her play while grandfather walks for prey!
Let her live a long life while her grandfather's checking fishing nets!
Let her sleep soundly while her grandmother does the needlework!»
 

«Let Sorni Nye, that walks among us invisibly, marks the name of my daughter in her writings – Khatan evie,» Levne was full of happiness, satisfied with the ritual.

Following the customs of children initiation, she didn't forget about gifts: threw a large beautiful shawl over Khutline's black hair. She bought it when she was young at the Obdorsk fair: noisy, cheerful, where the merchants exchanged furs and meat to the things Khanty women desired: cast iron boilers, needles, jewelry, and much more.

Today there were no merchants, and no cheerful fairs. The inhabitants of the taiga outback wondered where did they go. None of them could know that those wealthy merchants were either destroyed, or exiled to the most distant parts of the USSR.

And the holy city of the Khanty princes Taishins – Pulnavat Vosh, which was located at the exit of the Poluy River on the Ob, has already been renamed several times. But he was subject only to the Khanty gods, located just below the city – this is what from generation to generation the Khanty people respectfully passed on to their children. The Great Turam assigned his best sons to rule since the advent of land, when the sacred bird Gavia pulled this land from the sea, and called the fiery river cape Lunkh Avat. They protect the ancient settlement Pulnavat Eokh from misfortunes. The sacred cape of the gods is revered even by wayward Nenets and other small nations living off the coast of the Ob. The gods sitting there were so mighty that no woman could even watch in that direction, not to mention stepping on that sacred cape with her filthy feet. Coming to the winter fairy, and passing the Lunkh Avat cape by in order not to disturb the gods, men had to sacrifice a deer. Then the Pulnavat settlement was populated by the Russians and Zyryans, and was renamed to Obdorsk. This is how they wrote it down in Russian papers, without even asking the owners of the land. After that the Taishin clan left the town, and settled above the sacred cape of gods. Long live this family guarded by great gods. The town was later called Salekhard. But for Levne it was still the town of the Grand Prince, who was paid by her grandfather and great-grandfather. Passing through or by, each Khanty man had to bring a gift – toss a silver coin into the clear water of the Ob. Those who passed Lunkh Avat by and moved further, had to bring a bloody sacrifice.

Levne put four more needles with reindeer stitches for sewing and four red ties into the hands of Khutline – a shishkel for false braids for Altam anki, the third mother Khatan evie.

«Let my girl be a craftswoman, and in no way she knows what need is. When she grows up, a thin needle will cheerfully dance in her fingers, just like it dances in your hardworking hands, karkam Khutline. Now this is my daughter – Khatan evie, and your milk daughter – Altam evi! While you are waiting for your master, your little birds are always welcomed in my house. Today, five mothers love and cherish our girl on Khanty land – Pukan anki, Perna anki, Altam anki, and me, her mother. Kaltashch Anki herself will be protecting her from heaven».

Children were jumping and laughing, and then ate sweets.

Before Khutline entered her house after the initiation, she saw Kurtan iki at her doorstep. On the rights of a superior, being the foreman of the village, he entered her home, and took an old icon of the Virgin from the family hearth without hostess permission. Like all the inhabitants of the village, he knew that the family shrine was hidden in a chest along with the Khanty spirits since the red authorities destroyed the Russian church in Kushevat. Now the icon, transmitted from generation to generation through males in the family of the young shaman, was in the hands of Kurtan iki. Khutline knelt before him, reaching out for the defender of the family, but Kurtan iki kicked her out of his way with his foot. As he kicked her, the woman remained lying on the ground, howling sobbingly, but covering her mouth with her hands so that no one would hear. If anyone finds out that she hid an Orthodox icon in her house and worshiped it along with the goddess Kaltashch, everything would be over for her and her children.

Khutline didn't remember how long she lay at the threshold of her house, what she was thinking about, left without a husband and without a defender, but the next day, without a shadow of fatigue and despair, she went fishing with her eldest son.

«No one should feed my family,» the woman decided, «I am not a helpless child.»

She had a boat and oars left after her husband, and family gods sitting in the sacred chest. Wouldn't they give her strength and mind to rise to her feet? She had strong arms and 3 children.

«I am their mother. Their father entrusted me with the most precious thing – their children. Why should I torture my little birds and wait until they bring us fish home? I can't be full of someone else's piece,» she decided.

No one came from the village council to inquire about the icon.

«Kurtan iki did not take the icon to the authorities, which means that he stole the shrine from his cousin. What a sin,» Khutline was dumbfounded.

«How could this atrocity happen? In a different time, the elders of the thief's family would have chopped off the whole hand at the sacred fire. Now they are allowed to do anything,» the young woman was horrified.

Exactly one year later, on a bright summer night, when the sun crouched at sunset to have some rest and move along the sky again, and everyone in the village fell asleep, someone quietly opened the canopy of the house where Khashkurne and her husband Kushta iki lived. The guest coughed quietly, like all people did according to the Khanty tradition if they entered the housing with good intentions. Khashkurne slipped out of the canopy like a small ermine and gasped:

«Ashieh! Dad!»

It was Lylan Luhpi shepan iki sitting at the entrance, inaudibly, quieter than the arctic fox, bending one leg. His weathered face was dark, like the inner side of a spring birch on which women loved to scrap out bizarre ornaments.

The malica of the great shaman was not even torn, but completely tattered.

«Hush, daughter, don't scream!»

Khashkurne clasped her mouth in her hands and rushed to her father.

«Everything's fine, daughter. I'll sleep with you a little and get home tomorrow.»

Sleepy Khashkurne's husband went out as he heard the quiet whisper from behind the canopy. Seeing his father-in-law, silently, without any surprise, he approached Lylan Luhpi shepan iki, and greeted him as if he knew for sure that his wife's father would return home. The great shaman rose and, taking the head of his young son-in-law, kissed him on the cheeks three times.

– Set the table, mistress. My father-in-law is tired after a long journey, so make a bed for him!

Inviting the long-awaited guest to the place of honor in the house, he sat next to him. Khashkurne set a tea table at her father's feet. As a sign of respect, Kushta did not start the conversation first, he waited for the great shaman to tell how he returned home, and how he escaped from the people that wanted to destroy the soul of Lylan Luhpi shepan iki. The guest silently drank the first cup of slightly warm tea. He forbade to make the fire in the house: they didn't want curious eyes and ears. After drinking the second cup of tea, he threw a hungry look at the plentiful table that the daughter had covered, but only grabbed a khul voy with his fingers, slowly chewed it, broke off a piece of bread and said:

«I was the only one to get out of that prison in Salekhard. The rest were sent to distant lands, the lands I've never heard of. I didn't rush home, as they could grab me and send me to prison again. I got a little confused at the beginning of the journey. The spirits closed the road for me, did not let me go home, protected me from all sorts of misfortunes and from the hands of the new government. I went to the forest side. It seems that our gods were afraid that they would again take me to prison. I spent the winter in the hunting house on the Pole, people helped me. I even brought a child to his feet. He was dying, got a meat piece in the wrong way. The spirits helped me cut the throat with a hunting knife. The child swallowed air and came to life. Turam helped me every day, he didn't leave me alone with my troubles. For a long time I was treating the boy, and he recovered. His parents hid me in their ancestral lands for the winter. Kind people gave me a hunting belt with a knife, since mine was taken there in prison. In the spring, I crossed the talnik islands to the Ob. I spent spring a little higher than Palvoshkurt. There was a lot of water. I didn't cross the channels and rivers in spring water. I walked slowly, in no hurry. This spring was good: a lot of ducks and eggs. I was waiting for summer. As it became warm, after the ice drift, the moon was born again, and I moved home. In one moon growth I have overcome the path to you. It's up there in the sky, transparent, rounded, full, going to decline tomorrow. The water was high, so I had to circle and cross small rivers. It was difficult with the fowl, but the knife helped a lot, thanks to the good people…

Now I am on my land. Tomorrow night, I'll start my way home!» «My dear father-in-law, I'll take you home on my boat. You can't move on a long journey when the moon declines.»

«Don't worry, son! I know the road well, and I won't rush. Otherwise they will find me and take me again. I will leave some time traveling. We must not show up in public, it's dangerous for your family».

A baby cried in the canopy. Khashkurne rushed inside to calm her son.

«A son? Daughter, give my grandson to me!»

Khashkurne came out from behind the canopy with a night cradle, happy with her first motherhood, and gave her baby to her father. Lylan Luhpi shepan iki put the cradle on his knees, and kissed his grandson soundly. He looked at his grandson, and his face again became gloomy, as if he had seen something terrible. He gave back the cradle with his daughter's child:

«Rejoice that you have a baby. Let him know that for him you are the sun, the moon, and the stars. May joy and happiness not leave his heart. Let him be happy with your love. Thank Kaltashch Anki for the child, who bestows the children with one hand and takes the souls of children with the other. Maybe she'll feel sorry for you, and give you more children.»

The next day, when everyone in the village was already asleep, the great shaman fluttered out of his daughter's house, like the shadow of a polar night owl, and slowly headed along the canal, lurking in the bushes towards his native village. There were fifty kilometers left, and he was in no hurry. He was carrying a large bag of groceries. There was enough food for a long journey, and the shaman was good at distributing food throughout the way. A summer trail was winding and dangerous. There were several rivers along the way, swamps, and a trip across a large litter of a river called Pilyokhlor. This path was not difficult for him. His soul bubbled like a big lake full of fish, and boundless joy burst out.

These were his native waters and his native lands. This was the land where he was born, breathed air for the first time. He was at home.

Secretly, like a driven animal, and yet without losing his inner dignity, he walked through forests and swamps. Not a single person on this land could give him to the authorities: hearing the name of Lylan Luhpi shepan iki, people bowed or lowered their eyes as a sign of respect. The shaman, however, made his way through the forests, hiding from people. It was important for him that no one was hurt through his fault. He walked along the mossy forest paths, leaving no traces. He overcame talnik windbreaks like a white sacred ermine, passed unfamiliar paths like a light, quiet arctic fox. He didn't look around from fear, like a hare. His soul did not howl like a wolf, but sang, murmuring, like a hasty forest brook – a soim shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow, the one that hurries to the great river As.

He didn't look for an easy way; his natural instinct of a hunter told him where to move, where to turn. He walked without fear, like a brown bear in the forest. He was in a hurry to his native nest, to his small warm house standing under the centuries-old evergreen cedars, which had remained from his grandfather. This is where he took in the taste of the motherland with his mother's milk. He was a free man, and there was no sin on him. Otherwise why would the Almighty Turam help him? The sacred shaman's gift was also sent from heaven. How could a little man resist the will of the gods?