Grey paws furiously tore through the fresh earth. Comps of black soil flew in all directions as a horse howl escaped from the throat of the massive beast, chilling the blood of everyone present. Drive it away! What the hell is going on? shouted Andrei, trying to break through the cemetery fence. Neighbours and Irina’s parents held him back, not letting him charge at the wolf that was frantically digging up the grave of his wife, buried just hours ago. A wild beast sobbed the mother-in-law. Andryusha, someone needs to shoot that thing before!
Ranger Maxim Petrovich Vorontsov sat on the porch of his house in the village of Sosnovka, lost deep within the endless forests near Lake Baikal. His wrinkled hands methodically cleaned his rifle, movements honed over decades of service.
He was in his sixties now, but still hadn’t grown used to loneliness. It had been five years since he buried his beloved Lidia. The cold October wind chased fallen leaves through the yard.
Maxim looked up at the leaden sky. Snow’s coming soon, he muttered, feeling it in his old bones aching from the changing weather. Air Lida, he whispered into the silence.
Didn’t think it’d be like this. It’s lonely being alone. The phone rang in the house.
Maxim reluctantly got up from the creaky steps and went to the hallway, where an old telephone hung on the wall. Hello, he croaked. Hi, dad, came the voice of his daughter, Tatiana.
How are you doing? Same as always, Tanyusha, Maxim replied, leaning against the wall. Getting by. You should come visit us in Irkutsk, his daughter began again.
You’re sitting there all alone in the toiga. We’ve got a big apartment, plenty of room, Maxim sighed. This conversation repeated like a broken record.
I can’t, Tanya. This, this is my life, the toiga, it’s like, like a second wife she finished for him. I know, I know, but you’re not getting any younger, dad.
And it’s half a day just to get to a hospital from there. After the call, Maxim returned to the porch and picked up his rifle. Today, he had to check the northern quadrant, poachers had been laying traps again.
Just as he was getting ready, there was a knock at the door. It’s open, come in, Maxim called out while loading his rifle. At the door stood Nikolai Semyonovich, an old shaman from the Evenki encampment, about 20 versts from Sosnovka.
Short, wiry, with a face lined like the bark of an ancient larch, he looked far older than his 70 years. Hello, Maxim, the old man said softly, nodding in greeting, heading into the forest. Yeah, time to check the traps.
Poachers are getting bold, replied Maxim, eyeing the shaman. He wasn’t one for casual visits. Nikolai frowned and shook his head.
Be careful today. I had a bad dream. The forest is trying to tell you something.
Maxim smirked. He respected local beliefs, but saw them as beautiful stories spiced with tiger wisdom. I’ll manage, Nikolai Semyonovich.
I’ve been walking this forest for years. The ancients walked it longer. Not all of them returned.
The shaman replied quietly. He pulled a small leather pouch embroidered with colored beads from his coat. Take this.
The spirit guardians will help. The ranger accepted the gift more out of politeness and tucked it into his pocket. At least have some tea, he asked.
Another time, said the old man, already turning to leave. But remember, listen to the forest today. Maxim watched the shaman’s silhouette disappear and then turned in the opposite direction.
Toward the tiger path. The forest greeted him with silence. The usual sounds, rustling leaves, squirrels chattering, birds calling, were strangely muted, as if nature was holding its breath.
That unsettled Maxim. After thirty years on the job, he could read the mood of the forest like an open book. Strange, he muttered, gripping his rifle more tightly.
As if all the animals went into hiding. Because of the weather, maybe? He walked along the familiar trail, eyes scanning the ground. After about two hours, he spotted the first trap, sprung with tufts of fur caught in it.
A trail of blood led into the dense underbrush. Damn poachers, Maxim muttered bitterly. They set their steel and the animals suffer.
He followed the trail and soon heard a faint whimpering. Pushing aside the branches, he found a young wolf pup, no older than six months. Its front paw was caught in the trap, fur matted with blood.
Well, well, got yourself into trouble, huh? Maxim said gently as he approached. The pup bared its teeth, trying to look threatening, but it was too weak to resist. Maxim knelt beside it.