"And when the snow fell, which was quite often in the Far East, like a fish out of water he returned to the riverside, in search of what exactly, he didn't know."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
| Far East, Soviet Union |
Part I- The Winter Hunt
Snow twirled like cotton fibers on the breath of winter. Pushing out his tongue, Sehun tried to catch one of the soft entities only to topple over in defeat. Not far from where he stood, his seven-year-old niece mimicked his actions. He knew this because unlike his humiliating silence, she squealed with delight when the snowflakes kissed her.
"Stay close! Your father would never let me hear the end of it if something happened to you," he called out.
"I'm right here, Dyadya. But if I get lost, I'll just look for the funny hat you're wearing!"
Sehun patted his hunting hat self-consciously, "It isn't funny."
"I think it is. No one wears that anymore. It's 1970!"
"1970 already?"
"Of course. Tyotya told me."
Sehun mulled over Haemi's words. Time was moving even though his world seemed to be at a perpetual standstill. Pitiful as it was, there was no way for him to know for sure how things were changing. He didn't know the blush of flowers in spring or the hue of roasting apples. He didn't know the colors of onion domes atop the cathedral or icicles hanging from his frozen rooftop.
The world he lived in was irreversibly black.
A mittened hand tugged impatiently at Sehun's arm.
"I know you're in a rush, but can we stay for a little longer?" He pleaded. His ears perked at Haemi's gentle sigh. It was a sound he knew by-heart. The little girl had lost interest in his adventuring.
"But everyone's waiting!" She protested.
"It's not our fault everyone stayed home today."
Haemi tried again to drag her stubborn uncle along but he planted his boots firmly in the snow, refusing to budge.
"Tell me about this place. Where are the birds that make their nests here? I don't hear them today," he said.
Another sigh.
"I told you, they fly away in winter, now can we go, pleeeease? Papa is making Bird's Milk today!"
"And what about the ducks, where do they go when the lake freezes?"
"Oh, Dyadya! You don't remember that book we used to read?"
Her uncle nodded with a wistful smile. He didn't quite recall the book or its contents, but he remembered a much younger Haemi's cheerful imitations and the so-called feathers embedded in the leathery pages of her book.
"Since I can't remember a thing today and you're tired of my questions, let's go home," he said, waiting for Haemi to link her arm with his own. This time he followed obediently as she led him out of the woods.
