Micka concluded to the pack’s guardedly approving grumbling. We touched him a little here and there, patting him on the stomach, around the stomach, and on the scruff of the neck, where the sources of malice are. But since the sources of perversion are as yet unknown to medicine, we also gave the rest of his body a good going-over as well. I admit it didn’t come off without a couple kicks in the nuts either. And then Micka sat down, a little whipped but basically all right, and it was my turn.
I, however, by general consensus ceded my spot to David. Because even though Bohler handed out some pretty tough penances after our self-criticism sessions — 600 Our Fathers, or 1,000 push-ups, or Climb out on the roof an stay there! or Go hustle a Kalashnikov off the Castle Guard! — when it came to our mountaineer, ordinarily Bohler just waved it off, or let it go at two or three Our Fathers. And after all the depravities we’d heard, we were hoping that he wouldn’t let us down this time either.
I had a dream, said David. I was back home in the mountains, with my family tribe the Losíns, and a mighty blizzard raged outside our cabin windows, and the trails were all snowed under so we couldn’t go out hunting. My paw was chopping up a tree trunk, hacking out a roofbeam, but every now and then he’d stop, stretch till his joints cracked, and say: Coupa poods a frish rawh meat shir’d hit thi spot raht nah, agh, agh igh, oyvay Maria! And set to swinging his broadax again. My younger bros huddled on top of the stove while old Gramma told them the local legends. But the boys didn’t pay much heed to the mythical feats of old Choroš, chatting away among themselves: A-yuh, sum a that bludsy grizzle, oo Lord! shir cud suk ohn that, haw bowt yew, Medor? Aw, don go tillin me thim tayls, lahk t’eat m’own hand, replied Method, another brother of mine. My youngest bro, Benjamin, sat propped on my oldest bro Abraham’s knee, the two of them drooling on about the last bear we’d had before the storm. As the cruel tempest gathered fury, my maw broke out the Candlemas candle.* I peeked over at my kind, virtuous maw, and she says: Bet choo’d lahk ti sink yir teeth inna sum bludsy cartlidge too, yew rascul yew, hoy! Cud do with a baht masilf, ma little Davidko, hoo! You see, buddies, wilderness was just a regular thing for us, normally not a day went by without one of old Losín’s boys bagging a bear. We just weren’t built for that kind of hardship! Not that we were in danger of starving … out in the pantry we had pork and veal flitches, new and old ham, all sorts of bolshevik meatballs, heaps of eggs and taters, cauliflower, a hidden buckwheat pit or two, sacks of oats, bushels of wheat, cornstalks tall as a man, blindworms, rice with oil and sunflower seeds, dried fruit, millet, kabobs … we were just short on vitamins. The storm wasn’t letting up and Maw was running low on candles. Old Gramma said she couldn’t remember a winter this bad, not even in the legends. It looked like the Losín clan wasn’t going to make it! And, friends and knights, I couldn’t stand it anymore! So one night, when everyone else was asleep, I quietly donned my little fur coat, slapped my foxfur cap on my head, gathered up a few arrows and Paw’s old crossbow, and out of my bro Abraham’s boot I took the bowie knife that he had for jamborees. Then I pulled the sled out of the lean-to, loaded up the broadax, and untied Paw’s old bear-dog, Azorek, whose eyes lit right up when I told him where we were going. Azorek was a cross between a city cocker spaniel and a werewolf, and some of the younger bears died of fright at the mere sight of him. So I hitched him to the sled, threw in the crossbow, and off we rode. Into the tempest. That was some Siberia out there, believe you me, guys and buddies. Just a few meters away from the cabin, luckily, we came across our first bear nest. While Azorek furiously set to digging, I tried to draw the crossbow, but soon discovered that it was beyond my boyish strength. Then I got a salvational idea! Taking some heavy rope out of the sled, I tied the bow to old Azorek’s legs, then jumped in the sled and sped downhill. I don’t think I need to stress how tight I held onto that bowstring! Azorek, meanwhile, dug and dug and dug, until suddenly he let out a triumphant roar and an old she-bear sleepily tottered out onto the snow … I let go the bowstring, and the arrow went whizzing through the slightly surprised Azorek’s legs and hit that old she-bear right in the heart! As I clawed my way back uphill, sled and broadax prepared for portioning, I noticed that Azorek, crazed as he was … licking his chops and flicking his forked red tongue in and out … still held back, because he knew the meat was for all the Losíns! And I took pity on that good loyal beast. Ull raht, Azerek, naw we kin have irsilves a litta bitty tayst a that fahn blud n fayt, nummy num num! Overwhelmed with excitement, David fell into his old tongue and burst into tears.
We just sat there, frozen like statues, because self-criticism is sacred and it’s forbidden to interrupt … An as you probably realize by now, buddies an pals, we went an … David beat his breast … wolfed down that old honeysucker, every last bite … an I forgot all about my Maw an Paw … the happiness in their eyes as they nibble on the snout an the paws, slurpin out the marrow … an my bros, too … I ate that bear! An as long as old Azorek lived, we never said a word about it to each other, not a holler, we were too alienated an ashamed! David wiped his eyes between sobs. An I stuffed myself so full my bros had to come out to the old shed at dawn an lift me off Azorek’s back … an I lost the sled an Aberham’s bowie, an just like in my colleague Micka’s woeful tale, I stretched myself out on the stove an lay there with a fever … an even though next day happily the sun came out hey! hoy! an everyone was elated … an crazed … an my bros dashed out into the woods an hunted up dozens of bears, an Abraham wasn’t mad at all about his bowie, he had lots more … David blubbered, gushing tears … an that night my bros dragged home the dead bears, an we gorged an gorged … an gorged … an the Losín tribe was saved an happy again, I was never happy again after that, couldn’t look my family in the eye, so I left my tribe … an got lost in the stars an had to slay all kindsa innocent wolves … an jaybirds … for food, an I wandered across nine mountain ranges, trippin over roots, an then I came down from the mountains … an got lost again, an somehow ended up in this city … n yew Knahts a thi Seekrit fahnd me heer, n Ah fahnd yew n … and the bear hunter broke down sobbing again.