32
WE STAYED BY the pond all afternoon. We did nothing but talk and sleep, then wake up, lie in the sun and talk again. Strangely, Kyabine didn’t try to catch another fish. Occasionally I would see him staring at the surface of the water with a happy, mysterious look on his face. I wondered what his fish tasted like.
When the time came to return to the camp, Pavel suggested we go to Kossarenko’s camp to say hello to the lads we’d known in the forest that winter.
Kossarenko’s company had built huts in a clearing an hour’s walk from ours. Several times, while out searching for firewood, we had bumped into a group of lads doing the same thing. Then, sitting on tree stumps, we’d smoked cigarettes together and discussed how we were heating our huts. After that, we discussed our companies. We tried to work out which company we’d rather be in. We quickly realised that there were pros and cons to each of them, that it was difficult to choose, and that in the end it didn’t really matter. Winter would end and we would leave the forest: those were the only things that really mattered, and the only things we could all agree on.
We set off.
We were walking through the field, towards Kossarenko’s company. I’d lent my rifle to the Evdokim kid, so he could learn how to carry it in regulation fashion. He was pleased, and I felt lightened.
We heard something moving in the grass and we turned around. All of us stood there in shock. The horse was behind us. We could only see its head and neck above the tall grass. It was covered in white sweat. It looked wild and very beautiful, not at all like the sort of horse that would pull a carriage any more. It lifted up its swollen neck. We could almost hear it breathing. And I’m telling you that it was beauty itself that suddenly appeared and struck us all dumb.
Pavel slowly put his rifle on the ground. He signalled to Kyabine and Sifra to do the same, and he whispered to the Evdokim kid to look after the rifles and wait for us.
At Pavel’s signal, we ran towards the horse, spacing out so that we could catch it from behind. We should have left our coats with the kid too. It was difficult to run while we were carrying them. Just as we were about to reach it, the horse suddenly spun and bolted, leaping over the grass.
We sped up.
Sifra and I were on the sides. It was up to us to run as fast as possible, to overtake the horse and then turn to face it.
We moved further and further away from one another.
Sometimes I would catch a glimpse of one of the others.
But in the end I lost sight of them all.
33
I NO LONGER knew where I was.
Nor did I know where the horse was, or any of the others.
I came to a halt. I stood there without moving and listened. I was trying to locate the sound of the pursuit. But my God, that silence! You’d have thought the field was completely deserted.
I waited and I slowly turned my head in the hope that I would pick up the faintest sound of the pursuit from another direction. But still there was just that silence. And it was as if — this is strange, it came to me suddenly — it was as if I was alone in the world once again.
So I spoke in my head to my parents: Don’t believe what you see. I told them: There’s Pavel, Kyabine and Sifra somewhere in the field, so don’t worry.
I sat down in the grass.
I watched the sun sink between the grass stalks, and after a while I lowered my head and began to sob. But, believe me, it wasn’t out of sadness.
I said to my parents: You just look at me now, just look. I’m going to get up and I’m going to find the place where the Evdokim kid is looking after our rifles. It’s not far from here.
And now I held them both in my arms and I sobbed as I pressed them against me and I swear it wasn’t out of sadness.
34
WE CAME BACK to the Evdokim kid, one after another. He was waiting for us, and he handed us our rifles.
We set off again in the dusk.
When we reached the railway tracks, the sun was close to the horizon. It was too late to go and visit Kossarenko’s company. The cook wasn’t going to wait for us with his ladle. Soon after we’d set off towards the camp, we remembered the stew and we started to run.
We got there in time.
While we were eating the pork stew, the potatoes and the beans, sitting outside the tent, Pavel asked Kyabine: ‘What, you’re still hungry?’
He was making a joke about the tiny fish that Kyabine had eaten by the pond, of course. Kyabine didn’t react.
‘Two meals in the same afternoon, eh?’ Pavel said. ‘You’re going to be sick, Kyabine!’
Kyabine stared at him proudly. Then, in a confident voice, he replied: ‘No, I won’t be sick.’
Night was falling now, and the stew had all been eaten. Our bellies were full. We listened to the sounds of the camp while we sat peacefully on our sleepers. Somewhere there was the sound of metal on metal, though we didn’t know what it was. We could hear voices and, where people had lit fires, the sound of wood crackling. From the pine forest came the songs of redwings.
Kyabine rubbed his cheeks with his right hand. He looked happy and inscrutable. His gaze moved to each of us in turn, then he stared at the upturned wooden crate. His hand slid behind his neck and he looked up at the sky. He started to laugh to himself. Then he stopped and watched us again.
After a while, he said: ‘You know what?’
We replied that no, we didn’t know.
He lowered his head to contain his laughter. When he looked up again, his neck was red and his eyes were bulging.
‘What is it, Kyabine?’ I asked.
He made a sort of croaking noise.
‘Come on, Kyabine, spit it out!’ I said.
He took a deep breath and then suddenly boomed: ‘There’s a pig with fins in my belly!’
I thought we were never going to stop laughing.
35
INSIDE THE TENT we slept on a bed of grass. When we cut the grass, it had been green. Now it had dried. We had to be very careful with the oil lamp because the grass and our blankets could go up in flames. After avoiding a fire in the hut all winter, it would have been really unlucky if it had happened to us now. That was why we always hung the lamp from the pole in the centre, quite high up. The flame was yellow. The draughts of air made it quiver.
When we covered the ground with grass, we hadn’t forgotten that it would dry over time and get packed down by the weight of our bodies, so we’d put down a large quantity of grass. It had taken time but we’d been right. Our mattress had packed down but it was still nice and thick.
Pavel and I slept on one side of the pole, and Sifra and Kyabine on the other. The Evdokim kid had found a place near the tent wall, next to Kyabine.
We were warm under our coats and blankets. When we settled down for the night, our breath was white at first because it was still only the beginning of spring. But after a while, thanks to the warmth of our bodies and the flame from the oil lamp, the air in the tent became less cold and our breath grew invisible.
It was Pavel’s turn to sleep with the watch. I took it out of my pocket and passed it to him. He placed it on the dried grass, next to his head.
Kyabine had been watching us. ‘Kiss her for me, would you?’ he asked Pavel.
Pavel picked up the watch and tossed it to him.
‘Go ahead, Kyabine.’
Kyabine sat up and found the watch on his blanket. He opened it up and gave it a passionate kiss.
We smiled as we watched him. Then, as he seemed unable to stop, Pavel held out his hand and said: ‘All right, that’s enough. Give it back now.’