LITMIR.BIZ

      ISBN 978-5-0065-0478-3

      Created with Ridero smart publishing system

      Prologue

      In the village, rarely did anyone live past their seventh decade. Friedrich was the first person in the last half century. He was sixty-two, sitting on the porch of a barn on a clear autumn day, with a dozen and a half children crowded around him, the oldest of whom was not even twelve yet. They asked him only one question: “Why work so hard, only to throw away huge reserves of harvest that could feed the entire village for a month?”

      Looking at the curious eyes of the children, Friedrich began:

      – I will tell you, but I hope you will know about it only from my lips and you will never have to observe anything like it. I was thirteen then. I heard this legend… Or rather, it seemed to me that it was a legend, because it was talked about all the time, and adults mentioned it with serious faces, but nothing like that ever happened. My peers and I have never seen any evidence that Nix exists.

      – Nix? – repeated nine-year-old Penelope questioningly.

      – Yes, darling. That is the name of the evil spirit. He has power over the frost element, and the souls of the dead obey him. He appears every year on the first full moon after the first snow. As soon as the first snow falls, the whole village collects a hundred bags of ripe fruit, loads them into carts and takes them on a cold, frosty night into the forest, as far as possible, so as not to let Nix get close to the village. This is how the evil spirit receives a gift, in return for which it does not bother the residents of our village.

      – What if he doesn’t receive the gift? – Penelope continued to inquire.

      After these words, tears welled up in Friedrich’s eyes, as he recalled the events he had witnessed in his youth. He tried to find the strength to continue the story, when a tear rolled down his left cheek.

      1. Scorching heat

      Summer was always short in these parts, and while the warm days lasted, they hurried to lie down among the tall grass near the river bank in the sun, where no one would disturb them. Erikson was twenty years old, and he had already decided on his plans for life. The following spring, he and Penelope decided to get married. In the meantime, he could not take his eyes off those blue eyes, her straight chestnut hair and her plump lips. Erikson often called her a squirrel because in the local forest there were squirrels the same color as Penelope’s hair, and besides her, in the entire settlement only her mother and sister had the same hair. She was a year younger, but slightly taller than Erikson.

      He pressed his lips to hers again and kissed her, feeling the sun warm the skin of Penelope’s face. She reached out to repeat the kiss, then rolled over onto her side and, propping her head up with her hand, said:

      – Maybe tomorrow we can go to the lake?

      Erikson sighed with annoyance and replied:

      – No, Squirrel. I’m afraid we can’t. Tomorrow is our turn.

      Penelope was not upset at all.

      – Well, no big deal. My father said that he was going to work for several days in a row. Tomorrow I’ll go with him. – Then Penelope came close to Erikson’s face and almost whispered: – So you won’t get away from me anyway.

      Erikson abruptly pressed his lips to the girl’s neck and, imitating an animal bite, laid her on her back. Penelope screamed, overcoming her laughter, and Erikson, jokingly pressing his teeth to Squirrel’s neck, once again felt how the girl’s skin warmed up under the sun’s rays. He continued to hold Penelope’s wrists clasped so that she would not resist, and continued to bite his lips into her neck as low as her dress allowed. Squirrel shook her head, pressed her chin to her chest, but it was all useless. Erikson found bare spots where he pressed his lips lightly, then let Penelope feel the edges of his teeth. As soon as he left her neck alone, Penelope suddenly stopped screaming. Now muffled laughter came from her lips, which was replaced by a joyful smile. The sunbeams that fell directly on her eyes prevented her from properly examining Erikson’s face. He couldn’t get enough of her bulging lips for a few more moments, then pressed them and began to slide along them.

      Meanwhile, Andreas, Erikson’s father, had finished carving a wooden boat for his youngest son. They were walking along the bank near the field where the boy had launched the boat. The water level in the river had dropped noticeably over the summer, the current had become weak, and the boat was not moving as fast as seven-year-old Willie had wanted. Noticing the boat’s sluggish movement, he looked at his father and said:

      – I wish winter would come soon.

      Willie’s favorite pastime was sledding. In the spring, when one of the boards on the old sled cracked, Andreas promised Willie he would make new ones before autumn. But after it became clear that the drought would require working in the fields twice as much as usual, there was very little time left for other things. However, Andreas was determined to keep his promise, because this was the only way he could persuade the youngest of his three sons to be patient until winter came, when the first snow would fall and cover the hill, which would be ready for the children from all over the village to rush down.

      Meanwhile, the work in the field was in full swing. The rains did not come, and the water in the river continued to go down. Once again, forty-three-year-old Karl filled the buckets and was about to go towards the crops, when Wilhelm, who was eight years younger, approached him and said:

      – Come on, take a rest. I’ll replace you.

      Despite the fact that Karl did not say a word, which was typical for him, he was nevertheless glad that Wilhelm appeared. The third day in a row was taking its toll on his body, and Karl already doubted that he would be able to come to the field tomorrow.

      The villagers sowed together, weeded the soil together, and watered together. It was one common field, the harvest from which was also stored in a common barn, from which everyone took provisions when necessary. Individually, the villagers kept only chickens and horses, since livestock was also raised by common efforts. The reason for all this was Nix. To appease him, the gift had to be presented by the entire village, and therefore, so that some did not have to give more, others less, the residents worked together on the common field, choosing the most suitable soil for sowing.

      His legs were already weak, and he was not able to carry water for another day. But Karl was truly sorry that he would not be able to work in the field tomorrow. In the village, everyone was taught from childhood that they had to work like hell if necessary, but try to collect as much harvest as possible. Now for Karl this was a real commandment. However, among the inhabitants of the village there were only a few like him. As generations passed, practicality and cold calculation prevailed. Karl always wanted to have a son, but God gave him two daughters. Having suffered a wild fever after her second birth, Regina was unable to become pregnant for the third time. Karl was not destined to become the father of a boy, but he tried to raise his daughters in such a way that they would accept a man’s will as unshakable. Even in his relationship with Regina, he began to behave more harshly so that for their daughters, this kind of relationship between a man and a woman would become the norm, and no other.

      In the meantime, Karl’s thoughts were occupied with how hard things would be for the entire village. He was worried about the lack of rain and how meager the harvest would be this year. And the sun was too warm this year.

      2. Somewhere under the stars

      It was dusk. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon. Erikson and Penelope were walking back to the village along a forest path. Penelope folded her hands in front of her, feeling the cold beginning to creep in. They walked in silence until Erikson said:

      – Hey, squirrel!

      Penelope looked at him and said:

      – What?

      Erikson pointed his index

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