When Ural's father saw the dead wolf cub in the camp, an indifferent smile appeared on his face. Although it was only for a moment, it struck Ural's heart like thunder. How long had it been since he had smiled for Ural? Perhaps in his eyes, Ural is just like Nurbek. Since it is the eliminated kid, how can anyone be proud of it?
So, then he changed his view of Ural today because of a dead wolf?
This is the first time in twelve years that my father smiles and is proud of Ural!
Oh my God, my father smiled for Ural, Abban smiled for Ural, and even the old and silent old Bass smiled for Ural this time! Ural made a request to his father for the first time, and he actually agreed with a smile! The feeling of happiness suddenly came and lingered tightly around Ural. Ural was almost suffocated with happiness! At this moment, Ural seemed to have received the most sincere blessing from God!
"Aidal, do you know what you are doing! Do you know how much danger your decision will bring to the tribe!" Old Bas rushed into Ural's father's felt tent, roaring hysterically. .
Ever since Ural could remember, Ural had never seen this eccentric and surly old man so angry, and in front of his father.
Ural's father coughed a few times and signaled the servants to take Ural and Aban to rest first. Ural always slept in a felt tent with Aban, but for some reason, he felt a little uneasy today. Seeing Ural's hesitant expression, the smile on his father's face disappeared, replaced by a silence like the sea of death.
"go out!"
Before his father could say it a second time, Ural fled behind Aban and Zahan.
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Lying quietly on the tapestry in the tent, Ural meditated with the night.
Sitting aside is Abban’s mother Halima, or you can call her Irina Halima.
Jelena Halima is a somewhat taciturn woman. Apart from shepherding sheep and milking cows, she rarely shows up in public. Perhaps because of her husband, this woman has a conservative side that is almost paranoid. Whenever a grand singing and playing concert is held in the grassland, the whole clan will flock to it, but you will never see Halima. She usually locks herself in a cold tent and worships God over and over again. Anyone with a discerning eye can see that she is very afraid of her husband Tuohan. As for the reason, few people can explain it clearly. Whenever her husband stared at Halima with his dead fish eyes, the poor woman would cover her mouth and sob softly, occasionally shaking her head and murmuring: "Great God, what sin have I done? What do you want me to do?" Punish me like this!"
Perhaps because of the heavy work, everyone did not have enough time and energy to pay attention to Halima. However, sometimes the peaceful life is like a pile of loess that is gradually sinking in, slowly seeping in from the cracks, scratching people's hearts and minds.
And Halima’s story has obviously become a spicy ingredient in a peaceful life, causing ripples in the quiet lake of the soul. As for whether the story is true or false, who cares?
It is said that Halima's ancestors were Oksa people and lived a safari life in the dark forest thousands of miles away. A long time ago, a branch of their tribe could not bear the harsh living environment, so they moved south to the grassland and settled there ever since.
If this version of the story is true, then Halima is not a pure-blooded grassland person, and of course she will not receive God's unreserved blessing.
Is that why her husband spoke coldly to Halima?
Ural took in the hazy moonlight of Halasha and carefully looked at this somewhat weathered cheek. A head of slightly curly light yellow hair, a pair of black and blue eyes, a nose as tall as a poplar tree...
"ah!"
This shouldn't look like a prairie man!
Ural was so proud of this great discovery that his heart beat rapidly. This middle-aged woman with a wrinkled face seemed to have discovered something. She only raised her head and looked in his direction, with an indescribable chill in her eyes.
"Master Ural, what's wrong with you..." Abansh was woken up by Ural's noise. He rubbed his sleepy eyes, broke away from the piles of felts, and stood up slowly.
"No, it's nothing!" Ural opened the curtain and strode out of Halima's halasha. By then, Ural was already soaked, trying hard to control his swaying body, breathing heavily like a camel about to give birth.
The night wind was extremely sharp, slashing towards Ural's cheek like an ice knife. Like all those who discovered the secret of the ice, Ural fled.
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Ural returned to his tent and to his silent father.
For some reason, Ural's body couldn't help but tremble when he thought of Halima's wrinkled cheeks like chapped loess. When his father saw Ural's appearance, his lips moved slightly, opening and closing up and down, as if he wanted to say something.
But he didn't say anything in the end. He just sighed and patted Ural's arm: "Go to bed early, we have to get up early tomorrow."
"Can you, can you tell me a story...I can't sleep."
Ural looked at his father timidly, wringing his hands as before, feeling as if he had hit a deer.
"Well, if you want to hear a story, I'll tell you one, but after you finish telling it, just go to bed!" Ural's father actually agreed! This man, who had always been in awe of Ural, tucked Ural's quilt corners, and a rare smile appeared on his frozen cheeks.
"A long time ago, when the sun, moon and stars were still in chaos, and the mountains, rivers and glaciers were in a state of confusion, there was a young man living with his tribe on the grassland. In addition to cattle and sheep, there were countless demons grazing on that grassland."
"Yes, the grassland at that time was much larger than it is now. Oh, my child, in the name of the Most Benevolent and Benevolent God, please don't interrupt me and ask me where the grassland is? Oh, no one knows where it is. At least not the living ones, you know what I mean.”
"On that grassland, as long as you push aside a tuft of grass, you can see knee-high water nests with countless swimming fish, herons, and singing frogs... Of course, you know , and there are numerous skeletons.”
"The young man is a true warrior. He is skilled in bow and horse, can ride and shoot well, and is favored by the clan leader. The old clan leader even thought about marrying his daughter to this warrior. He goes to the edge of the grassland with his clan members every day. Hunting in the dense forests and walking along the streams, he always brings back a few fat yellow sheep and countless pheasants."
"All the women in the tribe are admiring this young man, but everyone knows that this warrior is the old tribe's favorite son-in-law, so they just look at it and don't think anything wrong. The days pass peacefully day by day. Until one day..."
"Ahem, don't look at me like that. Close your eyes, kid, close your eyes. God has given you light, and you must know how to cherish it. From now on, close your eyes and take a deep breath. Yes, That’s what it is.”
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Old Bas's dance obviously did not have any actual effect, and the tribe and the grassland were still shrouded in continuous haze. Days of drought have killed countless camels, cattle and sheep, as well as the prairie people's hope of continuing to survive. The tribesmen came to Lao Bas again and again, hoping that he could perform another dance to pray to the Immortal Heaven for rain of joy. Ural remembered that Old Bas frowned in thought at first, then nodded heavily, put on bright and colorful divine clothes, and set off silently wearing a dome hat with divine bird feathers.
It was a wonderful dance. Old Bass danced gracefully around the bluestone, dancing from sunrise to dusk. The moving drumbeats were like God's teachings that penetrated people's hearts, and all the people present held their breath. The daylight gradually dimmed, and the tribesmen set up a bonfire. Old Bass continued to dance around the bonfire without any intention of stopping to rest.
Ural and Abban sat leaning against each other next to a haystack, squinting slightly as they watched the old man dancing, singing, and talking to Changshengtian. Gradually, the scene in front of Ural's eyes became blurry, the sun, moon and stars merged into one, and only a crisp bang was heard. Ural instinctively got alert and looked towards the center of the bonfire.
What fell was Old Bass's leather drum, and also the whole family's hope.
Old Bass beat the ground angrily and howled at the top of his lungs, pitifully like a child. Ural knew that this dance failed. Old Bass cried all night long, and Ural told Abban that the tears he shed were enough to fill Lake Abise. Abban asked Ural in confusion, in this case, can we just use the tears shed by old Bacchus to drink for humans and animals? Ural said that human tears are salty and cannot be drunk like the water in the white alkali beach.
Abban nodded in understanding and said nothing.
Since that day, old Bass has inevitably aged. His eye sockets were deeply sunken, and from a distance, they looked like the Grand Canyon. The crow's feet at the corners of his eyes became increasingly obvious, and the rough skin on them looked like the sandy soil and rocks in the Gobi Desert. The most terrifying thing was the mouth, which reminded Ural very much of the devil in the myths told by his father. The only difference is that the mouth is not on the chest.
Old Bas rarely appeared in the tribe's tent meetings anymore. In his words, Changshengtian had abandoned him. What qualifications does a person who has been abandoned by Changshengtian have to express his views at a meeting that determines the fate of the entire clan? Except for Ural and Abban who occasionally went to him to ask about the techniques of catching yellow sheep, no one would go to him anymore.
The cattle and sheep are constantly dying of thirst, and the worry on the brows of the tribe is getting deeper and deeper. Until one day, my father decided to move the family to another pasture. This incident caused great repercussions in the clan. Most people agreed with my father's decision, but there are still many clan members who believe that this is our root and we cannot survive without it. But my father's attitude this time was extremely firm and he did not allow anyone to question it.
It is said that old Bass and his father had great differences on this matter. They argued from the time the sun rose to the appearance of the moon, but still could not reach an agreement. The elders in the clan were all worried. You must know that the two men who were quarreling this time were the two most respected men in the clan. Although Old Bass did not often appear in clan meetings, the prestige he had accumulated over the years had not dissipated. He firmly opposed the clan's departure, which put Ural's father in trouble.
On the last night, Ural's father had to summon the whole family, old and young, to the open space outside his tent, give everyone a piece of birch bark, and ask them to carve out their decision. Ural and Aban are worried about this matter. Should they leave or stay?
This grassland is the place where I was born and raised, but if I don’t leave, the whole family may die of thirst. Ural pursed his lips, tremblingly pulled out the knife from his waist, and carved his decision on the back of the birch bark.
Leave, leave, stay, leave...
When the old priest arranged the birch bark that everyone had carved and finished chanting, Old Bas's face suddenly turned pale. The already wrinkled cheeks looked even more ferocious against the backdrop of the campfire. At that moment, I knew that he was completely old and had lost the desire to live like a poplar, even though he might be buried by the sweeping yellow sand.
Old Bass walked tremblingly towards his tent, refusing the help of his tribesmen. He moved one foot deep and one shallow, one foot at a time, in the muddy darkness, leaving us only an empty reflection.
Escape has become the only option, even though it goes against our ancestors. But what can be done? The Heaven of Immortality has nurtured us, not to make us die of thirst and starvation. In the name of the most benevolent God, Ural must say that this is not the worst choice.
Ural clearly remembers the day of departure, which was a gloomy morning. At dawn, Ural was woken up by his father to pack his things. Ural rubbed his sleepy eyes and walked out of the tent. Looking at the complicated and busy scene in front of him, he felt panicked for no reason.
Why do we have to leave today? Can't we leave tomorrow? Where is Aban? Why haven't I seen him all night?
Countless questions ran through Ural's mind. He was like an injured lamb that retreated, hiding in the sheepfold and looking at the outside world, but everything was so blurry.
Ural raised his head and looked to the other side.
There were camels carrying baggage and tapestry everywhere. They lay quietly on the ground, ruminating slowly with their eyes closed. Faced with such a big change, it was the camel that remained calm, which is really interesting to say.
"Where have you been, my child!" His father's deep voice came from behind Ural, and Ural couldn't help but shudder.
"Come with me quickly!" Ural's father urged Ural urgently, taking the lead in getting on the horse's back.
Ural didn't say anything, but silently followed his father on the maroon pony, and rode slowly toward the unknown north.
The sun gradually emerged, and the gentle sunlight spread down, coating all the dark corners with a layer of brilliance. Ural swallowed, held the reins with one hand, glanced at the ripe wolf cub skin on the saddle, and sighed.
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