body against it, hot from the fever that was rising again. I suddenly felt such a relief and unearthly bliss. Closing my eyes, I started talking to the stone. Or, rather, the stone, invisibly to me, began singing an ancient shamanic song to me. “I am shaman, the stone spirit, standing before the sick! More than this, I can’t do! I always do the shaman thing around the world! The animal I ride is Manchirian elk! I travel far and I travel close, doing the shaman thing! I always see the creations of Higher Lords (the stars)! I always see the Higher Lord (the sky)! Who lives the shamanism, who lives the victories – here is my wide tambourine! Tonight, until the dawn begins, there is no thing I don’t see or know! Sick or wounded, there is enough strength to some, Hold me tight, and your illness disappears.” With every word of the song, my body parted with the sickness, filling with strength and energy instead. It seemed to me that we had become one with the stone, and I could stand there for a long time just enjoying the sense of euphoria that gripped my body if Herman had not grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the stone with force!
“You can’t hold on to the stone for a long time, or you may feel bad,” he said.
“Oh, come on, you and your bogus stories again,” Nikita uttered. Then we all noticed a bird flying in a strange way, apparently with a damaged wing. Having reached the stone, the bird sat on its top and literally a minute later, flapping its wings, it flew on as if nothing had happened. Nikita, who did not believe his eyes, bent down and picked up a large black ant on the ground, which one of us stepped on. The ant was still alive and jerking its legs. Finding a small depression in the stone, he laid it there. We silently encircled the stone, watching the ant. At first, nothing happened for a minute. Suddenly the ant rolled to his feet and briskly ran along the stone, down to the ground. Mouths open, we all followed him with an amazed gaze. Then Nikita made us laugh, throwing all his things on the ground and pressing himself against the stone, hugging him like a mother. Herman also hugged the stone on the other side.
“That’s enough. The Shaman Stone can give strength and health, but can also take it from those carried away,” he said. “Let’s go find the shaman, his home must be somewhere in this area”.
Throwing our backpacks behind us, we went up the hill, following a barely noticeable pathway. After about three hundred meters, a large chum with smoke coming up appeared before our eyes. It stood in the middle of a large clearing, and there were two smaller chums next to it, where a woman with two children was cooking something on fire. Herman went to her, asked her a question in Tofalar language and then returned to us.
“The shaman went to the taiga. He’ll only return tomorrow. The woman said we can spend the night in one of the chums”.
Having made ourselves comfortable and cheerful from communication with the Shaman Stone, we ate like wolves the venison offered to us by the tofalar woman, giving her five cans of tinned meat in return, at the sight of which the woman's eyes sparkled with joy. There was no refrigerator in the taiga, and the meat spoiled quickly, so the tinned meat was a lifesaver for any woman, allowing her to prepare a quick and tasty meal for her men and children. Knowing a little about tofalars, one could assume: this often saved them from the wrath of husbands who kept a firm hand on their wives. Many families living in the taiga still have many bans on women. For example: you can’t get into a man’s saddle, touch a weapon, step over men's belongings and many other restrictions that I found weird. Having eaten a good and tasty meal, the three of us, accompanied by dogs, decided to fish grayling on a small mountain river, which expanded as it flew closer to Vitim, rolling over large boulders, from which we were going to fish. Catching about four dozens of large graylings in no time (we could hardly eat more than that, including the dogs), we began to gut the fish right on the shore for subsequent salting. An hour later, we decided to try our slightly salted fish. Nikita and Herman ate salted grayling like wolves. Me, I found the salt annoying for some reason. Grabbing blindly one of the fish left for frying in the evening and therefore unsalted, and biting off a large piece of it, I realized that I like unsalted fish more. I ate about five of them, thinking that my friends would not notice it, and started feeling thirsty.
“I think I’ll take a walk,” I said to my friends and went down to the river. There, I had to face another surprise. On the shore, some wolves were sitting as if waiting for me. Without a drop of fear and going straight into the pack, I sat on the grass. The wolves surrounded me; my nocturnal girlfriend came closest to me and laid her head on my shoulder. Closing my eyes, I heard her thoughts: “Tonight I will tell you news, and it concerns only the two of us.” As I sat there, Nikita and Herman, having followed me, were watching this scene from the bushes. Nick was clicking with the camera all the time, saying:
“If we tell someone, nobody would believe it, and the photos will be the proof. Did you see, Herman, how he ate raw fish like a true wolf?”
German said nothing and simply admired the crazy beautiful picture of the love between Man and the Wolf. The careless fall of the photographer who got hooked on a branch instantly broke off this idyll. The cursing and the crunch of branches that followed made the flock run up the valley, and after a minute they disappeared from sight. Sitting with my back on friends, I was smiling and happy from the guess that dawned on me. The night was to become a confirmation of that. So I had nothing left to do, just wait until it comes. I never wanted to give a few hours out of my life the way I wanted to now, just to bring the desired moment closer. Living in Moscow, where the work of the head of the Moscow branch of the Writers' Union made me dangle all over the country and abroad, while the catastrophic lack of time simply did not give me an opportunity to relax even for a minute – and here at the other end of our country, having arrived at the invitation of my friend and writer Herman, I simply forgot about everything, and with every minute that I passed here, my wish to go back to the fussy world created by men became smaller. To stay here forever in the bosom of Mother Nature, not ruffled by civilization, and to enjoy the surrounding wild unbridled beauty was what I now craved for more than anything. Apparently, having felt my thoughts, Herman suggested that I communicate a bit with my home via satellite phone. Before that, Nikita had been chatting on the phone for five minutes. He wanted to step aside and tell the editor about the mysterious stories that happened to us, but he changed his mind in time, imagining what he would do if he heard such things from others in Moscow. The editor will surely think that we have been drinking here until we got delirious, so it was better to come back and show everything. Reluctantly taking the heavy phone from his hands, I dialed the number of the only person dear to me – Olga. I heard her excited voice, and it stirred a feeling of tenderness in me. Realizing that I missed her, I just kept on listening to her voice so dear to me and kept silent.
“Why the silence? I need to tell you something important,” Olga asked at the other end of the line, seemingly offended.
“Olenka, dear, I’ll come back soon,” I said and hung up in fear without understanding why. The big red disk of the sun was setting behind a hill, the night was getting closer. I was lying in chum, watching this miraculous sight through a half-opened curtain and falling asleep quietly.
“Sleeping already. Will we tie him with a rope?” Nikita asked Herman.
“He must be sleeping. The damn rope is of no help, you can’t deceive nature,” he answered. “Tomorrow, the shaman will come and decide what to do with him,” Herman gave up and, turning on his side, went to sleep. In my dream, I met my she-wolf again. While swimming with her in the river and chasing each other, I suddenly heard her thoughts again. She was grateful to me for the fact that we would have cubs soon, and they would grow as brave and strong as their father. Rejoiced at this news, I rushed to race with her like mad. Having regained consciousness from Nikita shaking me, I realized that it was already morning…
Part III
Having regained consciousness from Nikita shaking my shoulder, I realized that it was already morning.
“Get up, you sack rat, wash yourself and let’s have breakfast.” Upon leaving the chum, a picture of an early
