“Fetch the kindling,” Murtaza tells her and starts securing the logs.
The wind has begun blowing in earnest, angrily whipping up clouds of snow and sweeping away the tracks they’ve trampled. Zuleikha clasps her mittens to her chest and rushes along the disappearing path into the forest’s darkness.
By the time she reaches the familiar stump, the basket has already been covered with snow. Zuleikha snaps a branch from a bush and starts wandering around, poking at the snowdrift with the switch. She’ll be in for it if she loses the basket. Murtaza will scold her and then cool down; but the Vampire Hag – she’ll quarrel to her heart’s content, ooze venom, and remind Zuleikha about that basket till the very day she dies.
And there it is, the dear thing, lying there! Zuleikha pulls the heavy basket out from under a layer of drifted snow and exhales, relieved. She can return. But which way? The blizzard dances fiercely around her. White streams of snow are rushing up and down in the air, cloaking Zuleikha, swaddling and entangling her. The sky sags between the sharp tops of the spruces, like a huge piece of gray cotton wool. The trees around her are merging into the darkness and now all resemble one another, like shadows.
There’s no path.
“Murtaza!” shouts Zuleikha, as snow pelts her mouth. “Murtazaaa!”
The blizzard sings, peals, and whistles in response.
Her body is weakening and her legs are growing limp, as if they’re made of snow, too. Zuleikha sinks to the stump with her back to the wind, holding the basket with one hand and gripping the collar of her sheepskin coat with the other. She can’t leave this spot or she’ll lose her way. It’s best to wait here. Could Murtaza leave her in the forest? Now that would make the Vampire Hag happy. And what about the pastila she’d got hold of? Could that really have been for nothing?
“Murtazaaa!”
A large, dark figure in a shaggy fur hat emerges from a swirl of snow. Firmly grasping his wife by the sleeve, Murtaza pulls her through the snowstorm behind him.
He won’t allow her to sit on the sledge: there’s a lot of firewood and the horse won’t make it. And so they walk, Murtaza up front, leading Sandugach by the bridle, and Zuleikha following, holding the back of the sledge, feebly lifting her unsteady feet. Her felt boots are crammed with snow but she doesn’t have the strength to quickly shake them out. She needs to keep stride with the sledge. Plod along, left, right, left, right… Well, come on, Zuleikha, you pathetic hen. You know you’re done for if you fall behind. Murtaza won’t notice. You’ll freeze to death in the forest.
Even so, what a good person he is to have come back for her. He could have left her there in the thicket. Who’s to care if she lives or not? He could have said she lost her way in the forest, he couldn’t find her, and a day later nobody would even remember her.
It turns out she can stride along with her eyes closed, too. That’s even better because her legs are working but her eyes are resting. The main thing is to keep a firm hold of the sledge.
Snow is beating painfully at her face, getting inside her nose and mouth. Zuleikha raises her head and shakes it off. She’s lying on the ground and the back of the sledge is disappearing ahead of her; the white whirling blizzard is all around. She stands, catches up to the sledge, and grasps it tightly. She decides not to close her eyes until they reach their house.
It’s already dark when they arrive in the yard. They unload the firewood by the woodpile for Murtaza to split tomorrow, unharness Sandugach, and cover the sledge.
The windowpanes on the Vampire Hag’s side are dark and coated with thick frost but Zuleikha knows her mother-in-law senses their arrival. She’s standing by the window now, alert to the movements of the floorboards. She’s waiting for their jolt when the front door slams, after which they’ll tremble pliantly under the master’s heavy footsteps. Murtaza will undress, wash after the trip, and go to his mother’s quarters. He calls this “our little evening chat.” What can you talk about with a deaf old lady? Zuleikha doesn’t understand. But these chats are long, sometimes lasting for hours. Murtaza is calm and tranquil when he returns from his mother’s house; he might even smile or joke a little.
His evening meeting plays into Zuleikha’s hands today. As soon as her husband puts on a clean shirt and goes to see the Vampire Hag, Zuleikha throws her sheepskin coat – which hasn’t even dried – on her shoulders and runs out of the house.
The blizzard is covering Yulbash with heavy, coarse snow. Zuleikha trudges down the street, bending low into the wind and leaning forward as if she’s praying. Small windows of houses lit with the cozy yellow light of kerosene lamps barely peek out in the darkness.
And there’s the edge of town. Here, under the fence of the last house is the home of the basu kapka iyase: the edge-of-town spirit. Zuleikha hasn’t seen him herself but people say he’s very angry, peevish. And how could he be otherwise? That’s his line of work – sitting with his nose toward a field and his tail toward Yulbash, chasing evil spirits away from the village, not allowing them beyond the edge of town. He’s the intermediary for helping villagers who have requests for the forest spirits. It’s serious work so he has no time for merriment.
Zuleikha opens up her sheepskin coat and feels around in the folds of her smock for a long time, unwinding the damp band at her waist.
“I’m sorry to disturb you so often,” she says into the blizzard. “If you could just help me once again? Please don’t refuse me.”
It’s no easy matter to please a spirit. You have to know what each spirit likes. For example, the bichura living in the entrance hall isn’t picky. If you set out a couple of unwashed dishes with leftover porridge or soup, she’ll lick them off during the night and be satisfied. The bathhouse bichura is more finicky: give her nuts and seeds. The cowshed spirit loves foods made from flour, and the gate spirit prefers ground eggshell. But the edge-of-town spirit likes sweets. That’s what Mama taught Zuleikha.
Zuleikha brought candy the first time she came to ask the basu kapka iyase for a favor, which was to request that the zirat iyase – the cemetery spirit – look after her daughters’ graves, cover them warmly with snow, and chase away evil, mischievous forest spirits. She later took nuts in honey, crumbly light pastries, and dried berries. Now, she’s bringing pastila for the first time. Will he like it?
She pulls apart the stuck-together sheets of pastila and tosses each one in front of her. The wind catches them and carries them away into the field, where it will twirl and swirl them for some time, bringing them to the basu kapka iyase’s lair.
Not one sheet returns to Zuleikha, so the edge-of-town spirit has accepted the treat. This means he will grant her request by having a talk with the cemetery spirit and convincing him. Her daughters will lie in warmth and calm, right up till spring. Zuleikha has been rather afraid of speaking directly with the cemetery spirit. After all, she’s a simple woman, not a wisewoman.
She thanks the basu kapka iyase – she bows low into the darkness – and quickly hurries home before Murtaza leaves the Vampire Hag’s. Her husband is still at his mother’s when she runs into the entrance hall. She thanks the Almighty – she fans her face with her hands – for He truly is on Zuleikha’s side today.
Exhaustion immediately envelops her in the warmth. Her hands and feet are like lead and her head is like cotton. Her body demands one thing: rest. She quickly rekindles the stove, which has cooled since morning. Sets a place for Murtaza at the wide sleeping bench, tossing some food on it. Runs to the winter shed and rekindles the stove there, too. Feeds the animals, cleans up after them. Brings the foal to Sandugach for an evening feed. Milks Kyubelek, strains the milk. Takes her husband’s pillows down from the high storage shelf and plumps them (Murtaza likes sleeping on high pillows). Finally, she can go to her area behind the stove.