Act XV. Hyperborea (10)

ten

Later, after Yubi celebrated his "34th" birthday, the foxtail grass in front of their house was completely buried in snow. Yubi slept by the fireplace, hearing the wooden beams of the house creak from the cold, and the sound of ice forming on the river outside—he had finally grown a little taller, and could now reach Yakov's neck on tiptoe. He just thought that he might wear the ring forever and never grow any taller: that morning, Yubi touched soft downy hair on his lips for the first time.

This frustrated him greatly, and he immediately took off the ring, refusing to wear it again. "What's so shameful about having a beard?" Yakov couldn't help but stroke it with his fingers. "You're supposed to have a beard when you grow up."

“This isn’t pretty, it’s not refined.” Yubi picked up a knife and shaved off all the fuzz. “In two days, I’ll look sloppy and rude!”

"So what?" Yakov laughed. "Is there anyone who forbids you from being sloppy and rude?"

“…I just can’t understand you.” Yubi sighed. “I’m too old! I don’t want to wear that ring anymore!”

“I also wanted to take you to see the ‘fins’,” Yakov said, pointing to the sunlight and thick snow outside the door. “Aren’t you going?”

The two men prepared for their journey at home: Yubi put on a new beaver fur hat, and Yakov donned a new bearskin cloak. They fastened their belts one by one, carrying ropes, flint, salt, and a knife, and slipped their feet into their thickest, warmest, waterproof fur boots. Yubi felt his hands, feet, stomach, and back were all round and chubby, and he wouldn't feel any pain even if he fell into the snow; while Yakov beside him, if it weren't for the bow and arrows tucked under his arm, would have looked almost exactly like a real bear. They cleared the snow from the doorway and shoveled a path to the cellar—where Yubi found a new sled, with provisions already tied to it, and a wooden spear that Yakov had sharpened and dried himself.

“Let’s go.” Yakov pulled on the thick rope that was attached to the sled.

"...Where are we going to see the 'fins'? How long will it take?" Yubi reluctantly took the other rope. "Should we pull them there by sled and then pull them back?"

A strange, smug smile appeared on Yakov's face. "It'll take five days to get there and another five days to get back," he said. "It's hard work."

Yubi knew Yakov's expression all too well—that wretched blood slave was surely up to something again. But he still pursed his lips, half-doubting, half-pitying, as he hoisted the thick rope onto his back and followed Yakov in pulling. Unfortunately, the sled had only been dragging north for a short while when the vampire was exhausted, his face flushed, and he had to collapse into the soft snow to rest.

“He just left the house.” Yakov squatted down and looked at him gloatingly. “He’ll be stuck with diarrhea for another ten days.”

"...Ten days it is." Yubi gritted her teeth and jumped up from the snow. "I have to see the 'fins' with my own eyes!"

Yakov finally burst into laughter, pressing down on his beaver-skin hat and telling him to sit on the sled. "Wait here," he said, "and guard our things."

Yubi watched the bear-like figure walk into a birch forest, suddenly realizing he wasn't far from Granny Vanella's cottage. Soon, he heard a large group of enthusiastic barking echoing through the woods. The sound dispersed the chilling white mist before his eyes, making his heart pound with excitement.

"Have you ever ridden a dog sled?" Yakov asked, pulling eight leashes, each dog bigger and heavier than Yubi. "We walked on ice."

At first, as Yakov tied the harnesses on each of them, Yubi was worried that these poor "puppies" would suffer as much as he did; but with Yakov's command, the thick rope was suddenly taut, and a huge force pulled the entire sled forward, and all the rough-haired dogs ran wildly through the snow like madmen; when they reached the open, smooth ice, their speed was as fast as an arrow released from a bow.

Yubi didn't know if it was snowflakes or saliva dripping onto her face, nor did she know if she was cheering or screaming.

"We'll come back after we hunt down the 'fins,' then we'll be carrying more weight, and it won't be as fast!" Yakov shouted, standing behind the sled and pressing the brake. "Slow down, slow down!...Turn left!"

Yubi couldn't understand Yakov's commands; they were probably in the language of the Chu people. He could only yell and grip the sled tightly, curling up in the middle, unable to move. Soon, he felt himself, Yakov, and the cargo spun around on the thick ice covered in snow, thrown off along a dangerous arc—unsurprisingly, the sled overturned, and they both crashed into the snow. The sled dogs, hearing the commotion, swarmed around them, their thick tails lashing out like clubs, tangling all the tow ropes incessantly.

“I’m not very good at driving a sled yet.” Yakov rubbed his head as he got up, his beard smelling awful from being licked by the dog’s tongue. “I’ll probably fall a few more times.”

Yubi got a mouthful of snow and struggled for a while to get up. "...This is so much fun!" he exclaimed. "Yakov, it's like flying! It feels just like being in the sky!"

They pushed the pack of dogs aside, laboriously untied their legs to loosen the ropes, and once again set off on the ice. After several more falls, Yakov finally began to grasp the essentials of driving and learned how to control the overly excited dogs. Their sled became increasingly stable, and they reached a shallower path—Yubi suddenly realized that this path was specifically for sleds. When they reached the shore to set up camp, they encountered even more hunters. Each of them carried their own sled dogs and hunting gear, and their skills in setting up campfires and tents were adept and experienced.

"Are you all here to hunt 'fin-footed' creatures?" Yubi asked.

"Flipped limbs?" The old hunters exchanged glances, then beamed with delight. "You mean seals?"

Seal—this new name was firmly etched in Yubi's mind. Five days later, as planned, they followed the sled caravan out of the river and arrived at a vast, boundless frozen lake. There, they saw even more hunters from all over the world, each with their own distinct appearance, vying for territory on the lake to hunt seals. Yakov chose a deserted spot on the shore to set up camp and start a fire. After tying up the sled dogs, he carried a spear and bow and arrows, leading him into the boundless white expanse. Yubi looked at the ice beneath his feet, which seemed as solid as the ground, and noticed the shadowy silhouette of a huge fish swimming in the dark depths of the lake.

"I know!" the vampire exclaimed excitedly, recalling his childhood memories. "Just like ice fishing!"

"You know about ice fishing?" Yakov turned around in surprise.

“There used to be a big lake next to my house, don’t you remember?” Yubi said. “In winter, the blood slaves would go there to fish on the ice for fun.”

Yakov thought for a moment. “It’s not quite like ice fishing.” He looked around for a suitable spot to dig. “This thing will come to the burrow entrance by itself. Its claws and teeth are very sharp; it’s not as stupid as it looks.”

Does it really look stupid? Yubi followed Yakov, recalling Schumeer's comical paintings: a fish-like tail, a face with long, cat-like whiskers, jet black and smooth, without ears. What kind of animal is it? He imagined and described it many times, but could not find an answer, and could only look expectantly at the surrounding glaciers—suddenly, Yakov patted him on the shoulder and quietly pointed it out to him.

In an instant, Yubi understood that Yakov's words were not empty talk.

A flipper was lying on the ice in the distance, guarding its ice cave. It really did have whiskers, two round, moist black eyes, a bald head, and an excessively fat body. Its nostrils were wide open, and its tail fin was slapping the snow, making it look adorably clumsy and pitiful.

All his speculations and doubts vanished. How could he possibly describe it in a way that someone who had never seen it before could understand what it looked like? Yubi felt a surge of immense wonder and awe wash over him, as if all the world's rare treasures had opened their arms to him, revealing the key to its beauty. He was even a little too happy, becoming anxious and uncertain. It was as if all the joy in the world was being consumed by his discoveries, as if he would never again experience such pure and overwhelming happiness—for some reason, he couldn't help but recall those dreamlike nights from his childhood: he wanted to follow them into the ice cave to see what lay beneath the frozen lake; or perhaps, to try throwing the ring in again.

The adorable, kind-looking creature also spotted him, warily raising its chubby neck, clumsily flipping its two fins, and crawling away into the ice hole with its belly pressed against the ice surface, looking like a large caterpillar from afar—Yubi noticed that Yakov had deftly taken the hardwood bow from under his arm and nocked the homemade wooden arrow on the string.

A sharp whistling sound immediately brought him back to reality. The arrow had struck; the seal let out a mournful cry, and dark blood gushed out. Yakov rushed forward and cruelly struck its head with a blunt instrument, instantly rendering it unconscious and killing it.

If the story ended here, it could barely be considered a fairytale ending.

They dragged the seal onto the sled, skinned it, and gave its pelt to Granny Vanera. Yubi received a return gift: a beautiful white shirt with red lace embroidered on the collar and cuffs, hand-spun by Granny Vanera herself—her craftsmanship was superb. "You can wear it in the spring," she would still laugh like a true witch, "My spirit is woven into it. If you ruin it or get it dirty, you'll have nightmares all day." Yubi thanked her and continued to visit her often, listening to her tell stories of lost remedies and spells, and secretly curing her hidden ailment. The vampire learned to make soap from wood ash and candles from oil. He tried to sift out truly pleasant experiences from his once extravagant life, making life more comfortable.

Yakov—not only did he hunt more game, but he also built several new huts deep in the forest, specifically for resting. Now, no matter where he hunted a large animal, he could skin and smoke it on the spot, wasting nothing and selling it for more money. He diligently accumulated wealth through his skills, and a year later bought a small wagon and a young horse: not his favorite Norman horse, so it couldn't race, but it was sufficient for daily hauling. Yakov took meticulous care of it every day. Of course, he also wanted a bow with horns, but Grikley tried to make him a better, more suitable one. Even the most skilled craftsman couldn't make anything better. In the summer, the golden, dreamlike grass in front of the hut turned lush and green. He learned to settle down there, fishing to the sound of insects, sometimes sitting there all day long.

If things could continue like this forever, I would have no regrets even in death. Why can't people live for the most peaceful happiness, instead of carrying some mission or meaning on their shoulders?

But the following spring, the foxtail grass in front of their door failed to grow. Peaceful days are too short and fragile, fleeting like a white horse galloping past a crack in the wall, leaving no trace like flowing water.

“There will be a famine this year,” Yakov said. “Things will be tough.”