Chapter Text
“Sometimes it seems to me that the bears have already come out of hibernation, right in the middle of winter, haha. I can barely make ends meet, my only companion is these notes that no one will ever read. There’s no firewood, the traps are empty, my fingers are freezing, and that’s it. Today there was a blizzard, you couldn’t see anything through it, but of course, as if on purpose, the village of those ‘bastards’ was glowing with lights, as if mocking my situation. Mocking how they drove me out, preparing for…” — the pencil in K.’s hand cracked painfully, small pieces of graphite rolling down — “…the New Year, happy. Why is my path exactly with this view? With a view of the village? I always have to ski past that slope, until three or five glances fly from the street. And I see — fingers pointing in my direction, fear and shame, as if I were another wolf looking for a child for lunch. So throw stones at me! Kill me, for God’s sake! Feast as much as you want, laughing at my quick and impersonal death.”
…
“Was it worth it?”
“I’m already quite irritated by randomly passing people, especially those whose interest isn’t stopped by the light in the window. They’re always knocking, pestering, and they even dare to break in while I’m somewhere in the forest. You have to scare them off with a rifle. Then they spread rumors.”
***
K. had only just returned from the forest. His clothes were covered with a light layer of snow, which slowly crumbled from behind and, without even having time to land, melted. Shaking off his old brown coat, he threw it onto the mattress in the corner of his hut, slowly pulling the ushanka from his head. K. headed toward the table with dull, heavy steps. On the table this time lay only one blank page and a pencil worn by time. K. tossed his hat onto the edge of the table, one ear hanging down. He pushed the chair back, picked up the pencil and, gathering his thoughts, began to write.