The gray gloom came close and covered the sun. Pantry of the sun
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I
In one village, near Bludov bog, near the town of Pereslavl-Zalessky, two children were orphaned. Their mother died of illness, their father died in the Patriotic War.
We lived in this village just one house away from the children. And, of course, we, together with other neighbors, tried to help them as much as we could. They were very cute. Nastya was like a golden hen on high legs. Her hair, neither dark nor light, gleamed with gold, freckles all over her face were large, like gold coins, and frequent, and they were cramped, and they climbed in all directions. Only one nose was clean and looked up like a parrot.
Mitras was two years younger than his sister. He was only ten years old with a ponytail. He was short, but very dense, forehead, wide nape. It was a stubborn and strong boy.
"Little man in a bag", smiling, they called him among themselves teachers at school.
The little man in the bag, like Nastya, was all covered in golden freckles, and his clean nose, too, like his sister's, looked up like a parrot.
After the parents, all their peasant economy went to the children: a five-walled hut, a cow Zorka, a heifer Daughter, a goat Dereza, nameless sheep, chickens, a golden rooster Petya and a piglet Horseradish.
Together with this wealth, however, the poor children also took great care of all these living creatures. But did our children cope with such a disaster during the difficult years of the Patriotic War? In the beginning, as we have already said, their distant relatives and all of us, neighbors, came to help the children. But very soon the clever and friendly guys learned everything and began to live well.
And what smart kids they were! If possible, they joined in community work. Their noses could be seen on collective farm fields, in meadows, in a stockyard, at meetings, in anti-tank ditches: their noses are so perky.
In this village, although we were visiting people, we knew well the life of every house. And now we can say: there was not a single house where they lived and worked as amicably as our favorites lived.
Just like the deceased mother, Nastya got up far from the sun, in the hour before dawn, through the shepherd's pipe. With twigs in hand, she drove out her beloved herd and rolled back into the hut. Without going to bed anymore, she kindled the stove, peeled potatoes, refueled dinner, and so fussed about the house until nightfall.
Mitrasha learned from his father how to make wooden dishes: barrels, gangs, pelvis. He has a jointer that is more than twice his height. And with this freak, he fits the boards one to one, folds and holds them with iron or wooden hoops.
With a cow, there was no such need for two children to sell wooden dishes on the market, but kind people ask someone - a gang for the washbasin, who needs a barrel under the drips, someone - to salt cucumbers or mushrooms with a tub, or even a simple dish with cloves - homemade plant a flower.
He will, and then he will also be repaid with good. But, in addition to cooper work, it is responsible for the entire male economy and public affairs. He goes to all meetings, tries to understand public concerns and, probably, knows something.
It is very good that Nastya is two years older than her brother, otherwise he would certainly be arrogant, and in friendship they would not have, as now, wonderful equality. It happens, and now Mitrasha will remember how his father instructed his mother, and will decide, imitating his father, to teach his sister Nastya too. But the little sister obeys a little, stands and smiles ... Then the Little Man in the bag begins to get angry and swagger and always says, lifting his nose:
- Here's another!
- Why are you swaggering? - objects the sister.
- Here's another! - the brother is angry. - You, Nastya, are swaggering yourself.
- No, it's you!
- Here's another!
So, having tormented the obstinate brother, Nastya strokes him on the back of the head, and as soon as the little hand of her sister touches the wide nape of her brother, the father's enthusiasm leaves the owner.
- Let's weed together, - the sister will say.
And the brother also begins to weed cucumbers, or hoe beets, or plant potatoes.
Yes, it was very, very difficult for everyone during the Patriotic War, so difficult that, probably, it never happened in the whole world. So the children had to sip a lot of all sorts of worries, failures, griefs. But their friendship overcame everything, they lived well. And again we can firmly say: in the whole village no one had such a friendship as Mitrasha and Nastya Veselkiny lived among themselves. And we think, perhaps, this grief about the parents united the orphans so closely.
II
A sour and very healthy berry, cranberry grows in the marshes in summer and is harvested in late autumn. But not everyone knows that the very, very good cranberries, sweet, as we say, happens when they lie over the winter under the snow.
These spring crimson cranberries float in our pots along with beets and drink tea with them like sugar. Those who do not have sugar beets drink tea with one cranberry. We tried it ourselves - and nothing, you can drink: sour replaces sweet and very good on hot days. And what a wonderful jelly is obtained from sweet cranberries, what a fruit drink! And among the people among us, this cranberry is considered a healing medicine for all diseases.
This spring, the snow in the dense spruce forests still lingered at the end of April, but it is always much warmer in the swamps: there was no snow at all at that time. Having learned about this from people, Mitrasha and Nastya began to gather for cranberries. Even before the daylight, Nastya gave food to all her animals. Mitrasha took his father's double-barreled gun "Tulku", decoys for hazel grouses and did not forget the compass either. Never, it happened, his father, going into the forest, will not forget this compass. More than once Mitrasha asked his father:
- All your life you walk through the forest, and you know the whole forest like a palm. Why do you still need this arrow?
- You see, Dmitry Pavlovich, - answered the father, - in the forest this arrow is kinder to you than your mother: it happens that the sky closes with clouds, and you cannot decide by the sun in the forest; Then just look at the arrow - and it will show you where your home is. You go straight home along the arrow and they will feed you there. This arrow is more faithful to you than your friend: it happens that your friend will cheat on you, but the arrow invariably always, no matter how you turn it, everything looks to the north.
Having examined the wonderful thing, Mitrasha locked the compass so that the needle would not tremble in vain on the way. He well, like a father, wrapped footcloths around his legs, put them in his boots, put on a cap so old that his visor split in two: the upper leather crust lifted up above the sun, and the lower one went down almost to the very nose. Mitrasha dressed himself in his father's old jacket, or rather, in a collar that connects the stripes of the once good homespun cloth. On his tummy, the boy tied these stripes with a sash, and his father's jacket sat on him, like a coat, to the very ground. The hunter's son also tucked an ax into his belt, hung a bag with a compass on his right shoulder, a double-barreled Tulku on his left, and so it became terribly frightening for all birds and animals.
Nastya, starting to get ready, hung a large basket over her shoulder on a towel.
- Why do you need a towel? Mitrasha asked.
- And how, - answered Nastya. - Don't you remember how my mother went to pick mushrooms?
- For mushrooms! You understand a lot: there are a lot of mushrooms, so it cuts the shoulder.
- And maybe we will have even more cranberries.
And just wanted to tell Mitrash his "here's another!"
“Do you remember that,” Mitrasha said to his sister, “as my father told us about cranberries, that there is a Palestinian woman in the forest ...
- I remember, - answered Nastya, - he said about cranberries that he knew a place and cranberries were crumbling there, but that he was talking about some Palestinian woman, I don't know. I also remember talking about the terrible place Blind Elan.
“There, near Elani, there is a Palestinian woman,” said Mitrasha. - Father said: go to the High Mane and then keep north and when you cross the Voiced Borina, keep everything straight to the north and you will see - there will come you a Palestinian woman, all red as blood, from only cranberries. Nobody has ever been to this Palestinian woman!
Mitrasha said this already at the door. Nastya remembered during the story: she had a whole, untouched pot of boiled potatoes from yesterday. Forgetting about the Palestinian woman, she quietly slipped to the back and knocked over the whole iron pot into the basket.
"Maybe we'll also get lost," she thought.
And the brother at that time, thinking that his sister was all behind his back, told her about the wonderful Palestinian woman and that, however, there was a Blind Yelan on the way to her, where many people, cows and horses had died.
- Well, so who is this Palestinian? - asked Nastya.
- So you didn’t hear anything ?! - he grabbed. And he patiently repeated to her on the way everything that he had heard from his father about an unknown Palestinian woman, where sweet cranberries grow.
III
The fornication swamp, where we ourselves also wandered more than once, began, as a large swamp almost always begins, with an impenetrable thicket of willow, alder and other shrubs. The first person went through this pribolotitsu with an ax in his hand and cut down a passage for other people. After that, hummocks settled under the human feet, and the path became a groove along which water flowed. Children easily crossed this swamp in the predawn darkness. And when the bushes ceased to obscure the view ahead, in the first morning light they opened up a swamp like the sea. And yet, it was the same, this fornication swamp, the bottom of the ancient sea. And as there, in the real sea, there are islands, as in the deserts there are oases, and in the swamps there are hills. In the Bludovy swamp, these sandy hills, covered with a high forest, are called borin... Having passed a little swamp, the children climbed the first boarina, known as the High Mane. From here, from a high bald spot, in the gray haze of the first dawn, Borina Zvonkaya could barely be seen.
Even before reaching Zvonnaya Borina, almost near the path itself, individual blood-red berries began to appear. Cranberry hunters put these berries in their mouths at first. Whoever has not tasted autumn cranberries in his life and would have had enough spring cranberries right away, would have taken his breath away from the acid. But the village orphans knew well what autumn cranberries were, and therefore, when they were now eating spring cranberries, they repeated:
- So sweet!
Borina Zvonkaya willingly opened her wide clearing for the children, which is now covered with dark green lingonberry grass in April. Among this greenery of last year, here and there new flowers of white snowdrop and purple, small and frequent, and fragrant flowers of wolf bast were visible.
“They smell good, try it, pick the flower of the wolf's bast,” said Mitrasha.
Nastya tried to break the twig of the stem and could not.
- And why is this bast called a wolf bast? She asked.
- Father said, - answered the brother, - wolves weave baskets out of him.
And he laughed.
"Are there any more wolves here?"
- Well, of course! Father said there is a terrible wolf, the Gray landowner.
- I remember. The one that cut our flock before the war.
- Father said: he now lives on the Dry River in the rubble.
- He won't touch you and me?
“Let him try,” replied the double-visor hunter.
While the children talked like that and the morning moved more and more towards dawn, Borina Zvonkaya was filled with bird songs, howling, groaning and crying of animals. Not all of them were here, on Borin, but from the swamp, damp, deaf, all the sounds gathered here. Borina, with a pine and ringing forest on dry land, responded to everything.
But poor birds and animals, how they all suffered, trying to pronounce something common to everyone, a single beautiful word! And even children as simple as Nastya and Mitrasha understood their effort. They all wanted to say only one beautiful word.
One can see how the bird sings on a twig, and every feather trembles with the effort. But all the same, they cannot say words like we do, and they have to sing, shout out, tap out.
- Tek-tek, - a huge bird Capercaillie in a dark forest taps barely audibly.
- Schwark-schwark! - Wild Drake flew in the air over the river.
- Quack quack! - wild duck Mallard on the lake.
- Gu-gu-gu, - a red bird Bullfinch on a birch.
Snipe, a small gray bird with a nose as long as a flattened hairpin, rolls in the air like a wild lamb. It seems like "alive, alive!" cries the Kulik Curlew. The grouse is there somewhere muttering and chuffing. The White Partridge laughs like a witch.
We, hunters, have been hearing these sounds for a long time, since our childhood, and we know them, and we distinguish them, and we rejoice, and we understand well what word they all work on and cannot say. That is why, when we come to the forest at dawn and hear, and say to them, as people, this word:
- Hello!
And as if they would then also be delighted, as if then they, too, would all pick up the wonderful word that flew out of human language.
And they grunted in response, and chuckled, and grunted, and blinked, trying to answer us with all these voices:
- Hello, hello, hello!
But among all these sounds, one escaped, unlike anything else.
- Do you hear? Mitrasha asked.
- How can you not hear! - answered Nastya. - I've heard it for a long time, and it's somehow scary.
- Nothing terrible. My father said and showed me: this is how a hare screams in the spring.
- Why so?
- The father said: he shouts: "Hello, hare!"
- And what's this hoot?
- Father said: it hoots Bittern, a water bull.
- And why is he hooting?
- My father said: he also has his own girlfriend, and he says to her in his own way, like everyone else: "Hello, Vypikha."
And suddenly it became fresh and cheerful, as if the whole earth had washed at once, and the sky lit up, and all the trees smelled of their bark and buds. Then it was as if a triumphant cry escaped over all the sounds, flew out and covered everything with itself, similar, as if all people could shout joyfully in harmonious accord:
- Victory, victory!
- What is it? - asked the delighted Nastya.
- Father said: this is how the cranes greet the sun. This means that soon the sun will rise.
But the sun had not yet risen when the sweet cranberry hunters descended into a large swamp. The triumph of meeting the sun has not yet begun at all. A night blanket hung over the little gnarled Christmas trees and birches in a gray haze and drowned out all the wonderful sounds of the Bella Borina. Only here was heard a painful, aching and joyless howl.
Nastenka shrank from the cold, and in the marsh damp she smelled a sharp, intoxicating smell of wild rosemary. The Golden Hen on high legs felt small and weak in front of this inevitable force of death.
- What is it, Mitrasha, - asked Nastenka, shivering, - howling so terribly in the distance?
- Father said, - answered Mitrasha, - it is wolves howling on the Sukhaya River, and, probably, now it is a wolf howling Gray landowner. Father said that all the wolves on the Sukhaya River were killed, but it was impossible to kill Gray.
- So why is he howling so terribly now?
- Father said: wolves howl in the spring because they now have nothing to eat. And Gray is still left alone, so he howls.
The swamp damp seemed to penetrate through the body to the bones and chill them. And so I did not want to go even lower into the damp, swampy swamp.
- Where are we going? - asked Nastya. Mitrasha took out his compass, set north and, pointing to the weaker path going north, said:
“We'll go north on this trail.
- No, - answered Nastya, - we will go along this big path, where all people go. Father told us, do you remember what a terrible place it is - Blind Elan, how many people and cattle died in it. No, no, Mitrashenka, let's not go there. Everyone goes in this direction, which means that cranberries grow there.
- You understand a lot! The hunter interrupted her. - We will go north, as my father said, there is a Palestinian woman, where no one has ever been.
Nastya, noticing that her brother was beginning to get angry, suddenly smiled and stroked the back of his head. Mitrasha immediately calmed down, and the friends followed the path indicated by the arrow, now not next to each other, as before, but one after another, in single file.
IV
Two hundred years ago, the wind-sower brought two seeds to the Fornication swamp: the seed of the pine and the seed of the spruce. Both seeds lay in one hole near a large flat stone ... Since then, perhaps two hundred years ago, these spruce and pine have been growing together. Their roots have intertwined since childhood, their trunks stretched up next to the light, trying to overtake each other. Trees of different species fought terribly among themselves with roots for food, branches - for air and light. Rising higher and higher, growing fat with trunks, they dug with dry twigs into living trunks and in places pierced each other through and through. The evil wind, having arranged such a miserable life for the trees, flew here sometimes to shake them. And then the trees groaned and howled at the whole fornication swamp, like living creatures. Before that, it was like the groan and howl of living creatures that the chanterelle, curled up on a moss bump into a ball, lifted up its sharp muzzle. So close to living creatures was this groan and howl of pine trees and ate that a feral dog in the Fornication Swamp, hearing it, howled from longing for a man, and a wolf howled from inescapable anger towards him.
Children came here, to the Lying Stone, at the very time when the first rays of the sun, flying over the low gnarled marsh trees and birches, illuminated the Voiced Borina, and the mighty trunks of the pine forest became like lighted candles of the great temple of nature. From there here, to this flat stone, where the children sat down to rest, the singing of birds, dedicated to the rising of the great sun, faintly reached.
And the light rays flying over the heads of the children did not warm up yet. The swamp land was chilled, the small puddles were covered with white ice.
It was completely quiet in nature, and the chilled children were so quiet that the black grouse Kosach paid no attention to them. He sat down at the very top, where a pine bough and a spruce bough formed like a bridge between two trees. Having settled down on this bridge, for him rather wide, closer to the spruce, Kosach seemed to begin to blossom in the rays of the rising sun. On his head, his scallop lit up with a fiery flower. His chest, blue in the depths of the black, began to shimmer from blue to green. And his iridescent, lyre-spread tail became especially beautiful.
Seeing the sun over the miserable swamp Christmas trees, he suddenly jumped on his high bridge, showed his white, purest linen under his tail, under his wings and shouted:
- Chuf, shi!
In black grouse, "chuf" most likely meant the sun, and "shi" probably meant our "hello" to them.
In response to this first chuffing of Kosach-Tokovik, the same chuffing with flapping of wings was heard far across the swamp, and soon dozens of large birds, like two drops of water similar to Kosach, began to fly in and land here from all sides near the Lying Stone.
With bated breath, the children sat on the cold stone, waiting for the rays of the sun to come to them and warm them even a little. And so the first ray, sliding over the tops of the nearest, very small Christmas trees, finally played on the cheeks of the children. Then the upper Kosach, welcoming the sun, stopped jumping and chuffing. He crouched low on the bridge at the top of the tree, stretched his long neck along the branch, and began a long song like the murmur of a brook. In response, there are dozens of the same birds sitting on the ground somewhere nearby, each rooster also stretching out its neck and singing the same song. And then, as if a rather large stream, with a mutter, ran over the invisible pebbles.
How many times have we, hunters, having waited a dark morning, listened to this singing with trepidation at a chilly dawn, trying to understand in our own way what the roosters are singing about. And when we repeated their muttering in our own way, then we got:
Cool feathers
Ur-gur-gu,
Cool feathers
Ob-woo, cut it off.
So the black grouse muttered in unison, intending to fight at the same time. And while they muttered like that, a small event happened in the depths of the dense spruce canopy. There a crow sat on a nest and hid there all the time from Kosach, who was walking almost near the nest itself. The crow would very much like to drive Kosach away, but she was afraid to leave the nest and cool the eggs in the morning frost. The male crow guarding the nest at that time was making its flight and, probably, having met something suspicious, he was delayed. The crow, waiting for the male, lay in the nest, was quieter than water, below the grass. And suddenly, seeing the male flying back, she shouted her own:
This meant to her:
- Help me out!
- Kra! - replied the male in the direction of the current in the sense that it is still unknown who will break off the steep feathers.
The male, immediately realizing what was the matter, went down and sat down on the same bridge, near the tree, at the very nest where Kosach was toying, only closer to the pine tree, and began to wait.
The Kosach at this time, not paying any attention to the male crow, called out his own, known to all hunters:
- Kar-kor-cupcake!
And this was a signal for a general fight of all the cockerels. Well, the cool feathers flew in all directions! And then, as if on the same signal, the male crow, with small steps along the bridge, imperceptibly began to approach Kosach.
Hunters for sweet cranberries sat motionless, like statues, on a stone. The sun, so hot and clear, came out against them over the swamp trees. But one cloud happened in the sky at that time. It appeared as a cold blue arrow and crossed the rising sun in half. At the same time, suddenly the wind blew, the tree pressed on the pine, and the pine groaned. The wind blew again, and then the pine pressed, and the spruce growled.
At this time, having rested on the stone and warmed up in the rays of the sun, Nastya and Mitrasha got up to continue on their way. But at the very stone, a rather wide swamp path diverged with a fork: one, good, dense path went to the right, the other, weak, went straight.
After checking the direction of the paths with the compass, Mitrasha, pointing out the weak path, said:
- We need to follow this one to the north.
- This is not a trail! - answered Nastya.
- Here's another! - Mitrasha got angry. - People walked, then the trail. We need to go north. Come on and don't talk anymore.
Nastya was offended to submit to the younger Mitras.
- Kra! - shouted at this time the crow in the nest.
And her male ran small steps closer to Kosach on the half-bridge.
The second steep blue arrow crossed the sun, and a gray gloom began to approach from above.
The Golden Hen gathered her strength and tried to persuade her friend.
“Look,” she said, “how dense my path is, all people walk here. Are we smarter than everyone?
- Let all people go, - the stubborn little man in a bag answered resolutely. - We must follow the arrow, as our father taught us, to the north, to the Palestinian woman.
- Father told us fairy tales, he joked with us, - said Nastya. - And, probably, in the north there is no Palestinian at all. It would even be very stupid for us to follow the arrow: just not to the Palestinian woman, but to the very Blind Yelan we will please.
- Well, okay, - Mitrasha turned sharply. - I will not argue with you anymore: you go along your path, where all the women go for cranberries, but I will go on my own, along my path, to the north.
And in fact he went there without thinking about the cranberry basket or food.
Nastya ought to have reminded him of this, but she was so angry herself that, all red, like red cocks, spat after him and followed the cranberries along the common path.
- Kra! Cried the crow.
And the male quickly ran across the bridge the rest of the way to Kosach and beat him with all his might. As scalded, Kosach rushed to the flying black grouses, but the angry male caught up with him, pulled out, let a bunch of white and rainbow feathers through the air and drove and drove away.
Then the gray gloom came close and covered the whole sun with all its life-giving rays. The evil wind rushed very sharply. Trees intertwined with roots, piercing each other with twigs, roared, howled, groaned at the whole Bludovo swamp.
- Kra! Cried the crow.
And the male quickly ran across the bridge the rest of the way to Kosach and beat him with all his might. As scalded, Kosach rushed to the flying black grouses, but the angry male caught up with him, pulled out, let a bunch of white and rainbow feathers through the air and drove and drove far away.
Then the gray gloom came tightly and covered the whole sun with its life-giving rays. The evil wind very sharply tore at the trees woven by the roots, piercing each other with branches, they growled, howled, groaned at the whole Bludovo swamp.
The trees groaned so pitifully that from the half-collapsed potato pit near Antipych's hut, his hound dog Grass crawled out and, in the same way, in tune with the trees, howled pitifully.
Why did the dog have to crawl out of the warm, well-groomed basement so early and howl pitifully, answering the trees?
Among the sounds of groans, growls, grunts, howling this morning by the trees, it sometimes came out as if somewhere a lost or abandoned child was crying bitterly in the forest.
It was this cry that Grass could not bear and, hearing it, crawled out of the pit at night and at midnight. This cry of trees woven forever could not be borne by the dog: the trees reminded the animal of its own grief.
Two whole years have passed since a terrible misfortune happened in Travka's life: her adored forester, the old hunter Antipych, died.
For a long time we went to this Antipych to hunt, and the old man, I think, himself forgot how old he was, he lived everything, lived in his forest hut, and it seemed that he would never die.
- How old are you, Antipych? We asked. - Eighty?
“Not enough,” he replied.
Thinking that he was joking with us, and he knows very well, we asked:
- Antipych, well, quit your jokes, tell us the truth, how old are you?
“In truth,” the old man answered, “I’ll tell you if you tell me ahead of time what truth is, what it is, where it lives and how to find it.
It was difficult for us to answer.
“You, Antipych, are older than us,” we said, “and you probably know better than we do where the truth is.
- I know, - Antipych grinned.
- So, say.
- No, while I'm alive, I can't say, you yourself are looking. Well, as I die, come: then I'll whisper the whole truth in your ear. Come!
- Okay, we'll come. What if we don't guess when it is necessary, and you die without us?
Grandpa narrowed his eyes in his own way, the way he always squinted when he wanted to laugh and joke.
“You little children,” he said, “are not small, it’s time to know it yourself, but you’re asking everything.” Well, okay, when I’m going to die and you’re not here, I’ll whisper to my grass. Grass! He called.
A large red-haired dog with a black strap all over its back entered the hut. She had black stripes under her eyes, curled like glasses. And this made her eyes seem very large, and with them she asked: "Why did you call me, master?"
Antipych somehow especially looked at her, and the dog immediately understood the man: he called her out of friendship, out of friendship, for nothing, but just like that, to joke, to play. The grass wagged its tail, began to descend on its feet lower and lower, and when it crawled so to the knees of the old man, lay on its back and turned up a light belly with six pairs of black nipples. Antipych only stretched out his hand to stroke her, she suddenly jumped up and paws on her shoulders - and smack and smack him: on the nose, and on the cheeks, and on the very lips.
“Well, it will, it will,” he said, calming the dog and wiping his face with his sleeve.
He stroked her head and said:
- Well, it will be, now go to your place.
The grass turned and went out into the yard.
- That's it, guys, - said Antipych. - Here Grass, a hound dog, understands everything from one word, and you, silly ones, ask where the truth lives. Okay, come on. And let me go, I'll whisper everything to Grass.
And then Antipych died. Soon after, the Great Patriotic War began. Another watchman was not appointed to replace Antipych, and he was abandoned. It was a very dilapidated house, much older than Antipych himself, and was already held on supports. Once, without the owner, the wind played with the house, and it immediately fell apart, like a house of cards collapses from one breath of a baby. In one year, the tall grass Ivan-tea sprouted through the logs, and from the whole hut there was a mound covered with red flowers in a forest glade. And Grass moved to a potato pit and began to live in the forest, like any animal. Only it was very difficult for Grass to get used to the wild life. She chased animals for Antipych, her great and merciful master, but not for herself. Many times it happened to her to catch a hare on the run. Having crushed him under her, she lay down and waited for Antipych to come, and, often completely hungry, did not allow herself to eat a hare. Even if Antipych for some reason did not come, she took the hare in the teeth, lifted her head high so that he would not dangle, and dragged him home. So she worked for Antipych, but not for herself: the owner loved her, fed her and protected from the wolves. And now, when Antipych died, she needed, like any wild beast, to live for herself. It happened, more than once, on a hot race, she forgot that she was driving a hare only in order to catch it and eat it. Travka was so forgotten on such a hunt that, having caught a hare, she dragged him to Antipych, and then sometimes, hearing the groan of the trees, she climbed the hill, which was once a hut, and howled and howled.
Literary reading lesson in grade 1.
THEME: M.M. Prishvin. A sip of milk.
Goals: 1. Continue work on familiarizing students with the work of M.M. Prishvin.
2. Work to improve reading technique
3. To cultivate love for animals.
Equipment: drawings on the theme "Wildlife is the whole world ..."; cards characterizing the dog and the author, a portrait of the writer.
During the classes
1 class organization
The bell rang out loud
We begin our lesson
2. Actualization of knowledge. Statement of the purpose of the lesson.
· In the last lesson, we got acquainted with the work of M.M. Prishvin "Morning before May" and you drew pictures on the theme "Wildlife is the whole world ..." (1 slide)
(The teacher reads a poem to the music)
How much beauty there is in this world
Which sometimes we do not notice
All because
What we meet every day
Her features are familiar for a long time.
We know,
That the clouds, the river, the flowers are beautiful,
Beloved mother's face
But there is another beauty
That doesn't seem pretty.
For example, the beauty of a mole
Mole?
Yes, yes, or the bees are hardworking,
Or snakes, frogs and beetles,
Or other "strange people"
No wonder all endless centuries
Wise nature sculpted him.
Look into her face
And you will see how right she is!
· Well done boys! You correctly painted a large house in your drawings, where birds, animals, trees, flowers live. But many animals live with us in houses, in city apartments. People take care of their little friends.
· Look closely at the chalkboard Read the words written on the chalkboard
"We are responsible for those we have tamed."
And why we are responsible for those whom we have tamed, we will answer at the end of the lesson.
3. New topic
1. Speech warm-up
Sa-sa-sa, here is the fox running,
So-so-so the fox rolls the wheel
Sy-sy-sy the fox's tail is beautiful,
Su-su-su in the forest I saw a fox.
2) Working with text before reading
Open the tutorial on page 229, look at the illustration.
· What do you think this text will be about?
· Read the title of the story. Try to clarify your assumptions with the title.
· Read the author's first and last name. Do we know the author?
· What can you tell about him by looking at the picture? (2 slide)
That's right, M.M. Prishvin discovered many secrets and presented them to his readers.
And today we will get acquainted with another work of M.M. Prishvin "A Sip of Milk"
· Let's read the keywords in chorus
Lada
Milk
Got sick
Weasel
Saved life
· Has your assumption changed? What will the story be about?
· Let's read it. (Read by a prepared student)
3. Reading the text.
· Did our assumptions match?
· Let's read the text once again, paragraph by paragraph, and think, "In whose name is the story being told?"
4. Repeated reading by paragraphs.
Conversation while reading.
A) - Who is Lada?
· What happened to her?
· How do you understand the word turned away?
B) - Who was called to Lada?
· How did Lada react to the author's appearance?
· As you understand the expression "hammered with a rod", "life began to play"
· How did Lada react to the words of the author?
Conversation after reading.
· And in what the first assumptions coincided or did not coincide?
There are a lot of important thoughts in this story. You won't see them right away when you read the lines, because these thoughts are hidden somewhere behind the lines. But we can understand them if we read carefully and think about what we read. In adults, this is called
5) self-reading .
· So, is the narrator right that it was these few sips of milk that saved Lada's life?
· So what helped Lada?
· Read that sentence, which proves to us that it was the author's weasel that helped the dog.
Working with proverbs.
Choose a proverb that reflects the main point of the story. (3 slide)
· An affectionate word does not cost anything itself, but gives a lot to another.
· A dog is not taught with a stick.
· And the dog remembers who feeds it.
· how do you understand the meaning of each proverb?
· How do you represent the dog Lada? Let's put together a verbal portrait of her.
· Does Lada look like one of these dogs? (4 slide)
· Have you ever had to protect animals?
· In your opinion, how should we treat all living things?
6. Work in pairs.
(defenseless, responsible, devoted, faithful, kind, loves animals, bad, cruel, rude, evil.)
· What words didn't go anywhere? Why?
7.The bottom line
· So why are we responsible for those we have tamed?
Reading a poem by a student:
Who loves dogs
Or other animals
Serious cats
And carefree puppies,
Who can love
And the donkey and the goat,
That people forever
Will not do evil
A lesson project on a fairy tale was M.M. Prishvina "Pantry of the Sun"
Kolyabina Marina Alekseevna , teacher of Russian language and literature
The article belongs to the section: Teaching literature
Lesson objectives:
- show the unity of man and nature, the inextricable close connection of everything that exists in the world;
- make wise conclusions about the high purpose of man - to be responsible for all life on earth;
- to reveal the metaphor and symbolism of the language of the work;
- to awaken in sixth graders excitement, a feeling of experience;
- to bring up in children a sense of beauty, kindness;
- to reveal the skill of M.M. Prishvin as a writer.
Equipment:
an interactive whiteboard, a laptop, a projector, a portrait of M.M. Prishvin, an exhibition of the writer's books, book publications used by sixth graders in preparation for the lesson, drawings by students "Spruce and pine in the Bludovy swamp", "At a lying stone", albums about forest berries and hunting dogs, posters:
"Prishvin's words bloom, sparkle, rustle like grasses"
K.G. Paustovsky
“If nature could feel gratitude to man for the fact that he penetrated her secret life and sang its beauty, then first of all this gratitude would fall to the lot of the writer MM Prishvin”
K.G. Paustovsky
Epigraph:
Not what you think, nature,
Not a cast, not a soulless face -
She has a soul, she has freedom,
It has love, it has language.
F. Tyutchev
During the classes
I. Introductory speech of the teacher.
Today we have a final lesson on a fairy tale - there were M.M. Prishvina "Pantry of the Sun", project lesson. You know a lot about this work, and I hope you will be happy to share your knowledge, and together we will draw important and serious conclusions.
We have to reveal the metaphoricity and symbolism of Pshvin's work, show the unity of man and nature, and, finally, understand what kind of people success comes to: everyday, human; who remains human even in a difficult situation.
The guys from the group of literary critics will help us with this. They were given the task to find words with diminutive-affectionate suffixes in the text of a work, as well as comparisons and personifications. Let's see what they did.
II. Answers of students from the group "Literary Critics"
Examples of words with diminutive suffixes
(About love for nature. That he treats her affectionately, with respect. Man and nature are inextricably linked with each other. And this also speaks of the author's love for his heroes.)
Examples of comparisons and impersonations
- What role do comparisons and impersonations play in the text?
(Comparisons help to better represent what the author writes about, decorate the work and our speech. Impersonations emphasize the author's perception of nature as a living being.)
Teacher. Now let's talk with you about the genre of this piece. How does the author himself define it?
(Fairy tale is true)
Let's clarify the meaning of these words. The guys from the Linguists group will help us with this.
III. Answers of students from the group "Linguists"
1) In the explanatory dictionary of Ozhegov, the following meaning of these words is given:
Fairness is what was in reality, a real incident, as opposed to fiction.
A fairy tale is a narrative, usually folk-poetic work about fictional persons and events, mainly with the participation of magical, fantastic forces.
So, having thus defined the genre of his work, Prishvin lets us understand that the fabulous and the real are intertwined in him.
(The reality is the specific story of children orphaned during the war, for whom life was difficult, but they worked together and helped each other and people as much as they could.)
- At what point do the children come to the border of the fairy tale? Where does the fairy tale enter their life? How does a writer make us feel that we have approached the boundaries of another world?
(We understand this when we read about spruce and pine, described as living beings. Prishvin makes us understand that the usual story has ended and a fairy tale begins. From this moment, from the first step from the Lying Stone, as in fairy tales and epics, a person's choice begins own path, and an ordinary forest with the help of images of pine and spruce, which grow together, groan and cry at the whole swamp, turns into an enchanted, fairytale forest, where birds and animals talk, where a dog lives - a friend of man, and a wolf - an enemy of man. )
Let's listen to the music of the Prishvin language. We will listen to an artistic retelling of the description of spruce and pine.
IV. Fictional retelling of the description of spruce and pine.
Now let’s imagine the visually viewed image. Let's turn to the drawings of the guys from the "Artists" group.
V. Presentation of drawings by the "Artists" group.
- What is the most important thing you wanted to show in your drawings?
(1) I wanted to show that the trees did not just grow together and intertwine with each other, this is not evidence of their peaceful coexistence, they pierced each other, and this is the result of a fierce struggle for life)
(2.) Trees fight among themselves for life, and an evil wind sets them against each other. Spruce and pine try to overtake each other, dig in with needles, pierce, groan and howl. I am very sorry for both the spruce and the pine.)
- What other fabulous images can you name?
(The image of a crow, an old Christmas tree, a gray wolf, a Lying stone. There are forest secrets in Prishvin's work, forest dwellers say.)
Vi. Choosing a path. Detailed analysis of the text.
And Nastya and Mitrasha fall into this fabulous kingdom. Let's repeat their path. Let's go with you along the path of Prishvin.
So, brother and sister came to the Lying Stone, friendly and loving each other. Prove it with text.
(p. 178. Nastya, noticing that her brother was beginning to get angry, suddenly smiled and stroked the back of his head. Mitrasha immediately calmed down, and the friends followed the path indicated by the arrow, now not next to each other, as before, but one after another, in single file. )
- What happened next?
(The children quarreled, and each went his own path).
- How does nature help to understand the mood of the disputants?
Find and read the description of the sun. How does the sun change?
(Page 180. The sun, so hot and clear, came out against them over the swamp trees. But at that time one cloud happened in the sky. It appeared like a cold blue arrow, and crossed the rising sun in half. At the same time, suddenly the wind jerked, the tree pressed on the pine, and the pine groaned. The wind blew again, and then the pine pressed, and the spruce growled.)
You see, guys, the author seems to be preparing us for the upcoming complications in the relationship of the heroes. He seems to say: man is close to nature, he is reflected in it, as in a mirror, with his good and evil intentions.
And what happens in nature after children quarrel? Find in the text.
(p. 181. Then the gray gloom came tightly and covered the whole sun with its life-giving rays. The evil wind rushed very sharply. The trees woven by their roots, piercing each other with twigs, roared, howled, groaned on the whole Bludov marsh.)
But this did not stop our heroes, and each of them went his own path. Let's go after them, and the guys from the Topographers group will help us with this. They depicted the route of Nastya and Mitrashi ...
Nadia, tell us where the path that Mitrasha chose leads to?
Post "Topographers"
(Together with my mother I tried to depict the path of brother and sister on such a poster. We used not only paints, but also other materials to more vividly represent both the heroes themselves and their path. Mitrasha chooses a little-known path and falls into a swamp. he did not drown, but thanks to endurance, ingenuity and the help of the dog Travka, he got out of the swamp, and even killed the Gray landowner.
Mitrasha walked through the swamp. The direction to the north was indicated by a compass needle. Do you think the plants could show Mitrash not only the way to the north, but also a safe path in the swamp?
How did Prishvin describe it? Prove with text that the plants, trees wanted to help the boy? And Katya will indicate this in her drawing.
(Reading excerpts:
“Fir-trees, old ladies” p. 186. The old firs-trees were very worried, letting in a boy with a long gun, wearing a cap with two visors. It happens that one suddenly rises, as if she wants to hit the daredevil with a stick on the head, and closes herself in front of all the other old women. And then she goes down, and another witch pulls her bony hand towards the path. And you wait - just about, like in a fairy tale, a clearing will appear, and on it is a witch's hut with dead heads on poles.)
“Whitebeard Grass” pp. 187-188. Looking around the area, Mitrasha saw straight ahead of him a clean, good clearing, where the hummocks, gradually decreasing, passed into a completely flat place. But the most important thing: he saw that very close on the other side of the clearing the tall white-grass grass snaked - an invariable companion of the human path. Recognizing in the direction of the whitebeard a trail that does not go directly to the north, Mitrasha thought: “Why should I turn left, on bumps, if the trail is just a stone's throw away there, beyond the clearing?”)
What does Prishvin teach us in these episodes?
(Prishvin teaches us to see, know and understand nature).
And now it's time to turn to the epigraph of our lesson today. How do you understand the words of F. Tyutchev?
(I think that F.I. Tyutchev wants to tell us that nature is a living being, which has a soul, has a language, and if we are aware of this, then we will learn to talk with nature and understand it, and for this it will be for us give your love.)
I think you are right. And in this relation to nature, both authors are one.
Well, now let's get back to Nastya? Did Nastya see nature?
(Nastya was seized with greed. She forgot about everything, even about her brother. And she saw nothing but cranberries.)
Guys, do you know what a cranberry looks like? What about other wild berries? Let's listen to our "Botanists". They found a scientific description of these berries.
Messages from the "Botanists" group
(I found a scientific description of berries in the biological encyclopedic dictionary. We have such a disk at school, and I worked with it in the media center. Here's what I was able to find out ...)
And the guys from this group prepared a story about berries in this form (album).
(Here we tried to talk about forest wealth on behalf of the berries themselves, and also found in the OBZH textbook information about how useful these berries are, and when they are used. I now want to talk about cranberries, since this berry is the main one in our today's lesson.)
But all these berries are described by Prishvin in his work. Let's find this description. ( WITH tr. 191.)
Does Prishvin's description of berries differ from the one that the guys found in the dictionary? What is our conclusion?
(For Prishvin, this is an artistic description. It can be seen that the author describes each berry with love, for him it is a miracle, a jewel.)
Have you seen descriptions of berries in other works?
(Yes, we found poems that talk about these berries. Reading poems.)
Let's continue our conversation about Nastya. When she got to the Palestinian woman, she forgot not only about her brother, but also about herself: she forgot about food, about the fact that she is a person. The girl was crawling and picking cranberries. This is how well it is shown in Katya's drawing. At that time, an elk was in a grove on a hillock. What is being said about him?
(The elk, picking the aspen, calmly looks at the crawling girl from its height, as at any crawling creature.
The elk does not consider her as a person either: she has all the habits of ordinary animals, at which he looks indifferently, as we look at soulless stones.)
A huge, but defenseless elk costs little: tree bark. For a man so powerful, everything is not enough, and he forgets himself out of greed. Why is this description given?
- For contrast.
- What does contrast mean?
- Contrast.
“This underscores the insignificance of human greed. After all, looking at the crawling Nastya, the elk does not recognize a person in her. And Nastya continues to crawl until she gets to the stump. Let's compare Nastya, who has lost her human appearance, and a stump. What are they doing?
- Collect. Nastya is cranberries, and the stump is the warmth of the sun.
- What are they collecting for?
- Nastya - for herself, the stump - for others (to give the accumulated heat when the sun goes away). Therefore, a snake crawled onto the stump.
- Are there any similarities between a girl and a snake?
- Yes. As if afraid that someone else will get the cranberries, the girl crawls on the ground, picking them up. A snake on a tree stump “guards the heat”.
(Nastya pulled the thread around the stump. The disturbed snake with a threatening hiss “rose.” The girl got scared; jumped to her feet (now the elk recognized her as a person and ran away); Nastya looked at the snake, and it seemed to her that she herself had just been this snake; remembered about my brother; screamed, began to call Mitrasha and cried.)
- Who made Nastya rise to her feet?
- A snake, and a stump, and an elk.
- That is, to summarize, then nature comes to the aid of Nastya. It is she who helps her to remain human.
- But still, guys, what do you think, greedy Nastya? Who did she give the berry to?
(The grass saved Mitrasha, because he reminded her of Antipych. And she was very bored alone after the death of her master. When she saw Mitrasha, she thought it was Antipych.)
- And what breed was the Grass?
- Hound.
- What do you know about these dogs? Let's hear what the dog handlers tell us?
The message of "Cynologists"
(Hounds got their name for the fact that they chase the beast with an even, echoing bark. The hunter stands somewhere in the path of the beast, and the dog chases the fox or hare right at him. These are brave and hardy dogs. Therefore, Grass was not afraid to come to help Mitras.)
So guys, Mitrasha emerges victorious from a difficult situation.
- Why did the villagers say about Mitras: “There was a peasant ... but he swam, whoever dared, he ate two: not a peasant, but a hero”?
(A peasant is a joking word, with a diminutive-affectionate suffix, it indicates that a peasant is not a real man yet. found a way to escape from the swamp. Secondly, he was not taken aback and shot the wolf of the Gray Landowner, which even experienced hunters could not shoot.)
- How do you understand the words of Prishvin: “This truth is the truth of the harsh struggle of people for love”?
(Only a person who retains the best human qualities can truly love. To love, one must fight greed, selfishness in his soul. And only such a person who has conquered these qualities in himself is given the opportunity to love.)
- And what do you think, Nastya and Mitrasha understood what the truth of life is?
(Nastya and Mitrasha realized that they love each other, that they need each other. Thanks to this love, they survived and remained human. And this is the truth of life.)
Vii. Summarizing.
VIII. Homework.
Written
Write a miniature essay: “What did I learn about life after reading the“ Pantry of the Sun ”by MM Prishvin?
Page 2 of 6
A snipe, a small gray bird with a nose as long as a flattened hairpin, rolls in the air like a wild lamb. It seems like "alive, alive!" cries the Kulik Curlew. Grouse there somewhere mutters and chuffs White Partridge, as if a witch, laughing.
We, hunters, have long, since our childhood, both discern, and rejoice, and well understand what word they all work on and cannot say. That is why, when we come to the forest in early spring at dawn and hear, and say to them, as people, this word:
- Hello!
And as if they would then also be delighted, as if they would then also pick up the wonderful word that flew from the language of man.
And they grunt in response, and chuckle, and zattekat, and grumble, trying with all their voices to answer us:
- Hello, hello, hello!
But among all these sounds, one escaped, unlike anything else.
- Do you hear? Mitrasha asked.
- How can you not hear! - answered Nastya. - I've heard it for a long time, and it's somehow scary.
- Nothing terrible! My father said and showed me: this is how a hare screams in the spring.
- What for?
- Father said: he shouts "Hello, hare!"
- And what's this hoot?
- Father said, it hoots Bittern, a water bull.
- And why is he hooting?
- Father said that he also has his own girlfriend, and he says to her in his own way, like everyone else: "Hello, Vypikha."
And suddenly it became fresh and cheerful, as if the whole earth had washed at once, and the sky lit up, and all the trees smelled of their bark and buds. It was then, as if above all the sounds, a special, triumphant cry escaped, flew out and covered everything, similar, as if all people could shout joyfully in harmonious agreement:
- Victory, victory!
- What is it? - asked the delighted Nastya.
- Father said, this is how the cranes greet the sun. This means that soon the sun will rise.
But the sun had not yet risen when the sweet cranberry hunters descended into a large swamp. The triumph of meeting the sun has not yet begun at all. A night blanket hung over the little gnarled Christmas trees and birches in a gray haze and drowned out all the wonderful sounds of the Bella Borina. Only here was heard a painful, aching and joyless howl.
Nastenka shrank from the cold, and in the marsh damp she smelled a sharp, intoxicating smell of wild rosemary. The Golden Hen on high legs felt small and weak in front of this inevitable force of death.
- What is it, Mitrasha, - asked Nastenka, shivering, - howling so terribly in the distance?
- Father said, - answered Mitrasha, - it is wolves howling on the Sukhaya River, and, probably, now it is a wolf howling Gray landowner. Father said that all the wolves on the Sukhaya River were killed, but it was impossible to kill Gray.
- So why is he howling terribly now?
- Father said wolves howl in the spring because they now have nothing to eat. And Gray is still left alone, so he howls.
The swamp damp seemed to penetrate through the body to the bones and chill them. And so I did not want to go even lower into the damp, swampy swamp!
- Where are we going? - asked Nastya.
Mitrasha took out his compass, set north and, pointing to the weaker path going north, said:
“We'll go north on this trail.
- No, - answered Nastya, - we will go along this big path, where all people go. Father told us, do you remember what a terrible place it is - Blind Elan, how many people and livestock died in it. No, no, Mitrashenka, let's not go there. Everyone goes in this direction, which means that the cranberries are growing there.
- You understand a lot! - interrupted her hunter - We will go to the north, as my father said, there is a Palestinian, where no one has ever been.
Nastya, noticing that her brother was beginning to get angry, suddenly smiled and stroked the back of his head. Mitrasha immediately calmed down, and the friends followed the path indicated by the arrow, now not next to each other, as before, but one after another, in single file.
IV
Two hundred years ago, the wind-sower brought two seeds to the Fornication swamp: the seed of the pine and the seed of the spruce. Both seeds lay in one hole near a large flat stone ... Since then, perhaps two hundred years ago, these spruce and pine have been growing together. Their roots have intertwined since childhood, their trunks stretched up next to the light, trying to overtake each other. Trees of different species fought terribly among themselves with roots for food, with branches for air and light. Rising higher and higher, growing fat with trunks, they dug with dry twigs into living trunks and in places pierced each other through and through. The evil wind, having arranged such a miserable life for the trees, flew here sometimes to shake them. And then the trees groaned and howled at the whole fornication swamp, like living creatures. Before that, it was like the groan and howl of living creatures that the chanterelle, curled up on a moss bump into a ball, lifted up its sharp muzzle. So close to living creatures was this groan and howl of pine trees and ate that a feral dog in the Fornication Swamp, hearing it, howled from longing for a man, and a wolf howled from inescapable anger towards him.
Children came here, to the Lying Stone, at the very time when the first rays of the sun, flying over the low gnarled marsh trees and birches, illuminated the Voiced Borina and the mighty trunks of the pine forest became like lighted candles of the great temple of nature. From there here, to this flat stone, where the children sat down to rest, the singing of birds, dedicated to the rising of the great sun, faintly reached. And the light rays flying over the heads of the children did not warm up yet. The swamp land was chilled, the small puddles were covered with white ice.
It was completely quiet in nature, and the chilled children were so quiet that the black grouse Kosach paid no attention to them. He sat down at the very top, where a pine bough and a spruce bough formed like a bridge between two trees. Having settled down on this bridge, for him rather wide, closer to the spruce, Kosach seemed to begin to blossom in the rays of the rising sun. On his head, his scallop lit up with a fiery flower. His chest, blue in the depths of the black, began to shimmer from blue to green. And his iridescent, lyre-spread tail became especially beautiful. Seeing the sun over the miserable swamp Christmas trees, he suddenly jumped on his high bridge, showed his purest white linen under his tail, under his wings and shouted:
- Chuf! Shi!
In black grouse, "chuf" most likely meant "sun", and "shi" probably meant our "hello" to them.
In response to this first chuffing of Kosach-Tokovik, the same chuffing with flapping of wings was heard far across the swamp, and soon dozens of large birds, like two drops of water similar to Kosach, began to fly in and land here from all sides near the Lying Stone.
The children sat holding their breath on the cold stone, waiting for the rays of the sun to come to them and warm them even a little. And so the first ray, sliding over the tops of the nearest, very small Christmas trees, finally played on the cheeks of the children. Then the upper Kosach, welcoming the sun, stopped jumping and chuffing. He crouched low on the bridge at the top of the tree, stretched his long neck along the branch, and began a long song like the murmur of a brook. In response, there are dozens of the same birds sitting on the ground somewhere nearby, each rooster also stretching out its neck and singing the same song. And then, as if a rather large stream, with a mutter, ran over the invisible pebbles.
How many times have we, hunters, having waited a dark morning, listened to this singing with trepidation at a chilly dawn, trying to understand in our own way what the roosters are singing about. And when we repeated their muttering in our own way, then we got: 
Cool feathers
Ur-gur-gu,
Cool feathers
Ob-woo, cut it off.
So the black grouse muttered in unison, intending to fight at the same time. And while they muttered like that, a small event happened in the depths of the dense spruce canopy. There a crow sat on a nest and hid there all the time from Kosach, who was walking almost near the nest itself. The crow would very much like to drive Kosach away, but she was afraid to leave the nest and cool the eggs in the morning frost. The male crow guarding the nest at that time was making its flight and, probably, having met something suspicious, he was delayed. The crow, waiting for the male, lay in the nest, was quieter than water, below the grass. And suddenly, seeing the male flying back, she shouted her own:
- Kra!
This meant to her:
"Help me out!"
- Kra! - replied the male in the direction of the current, in the sense that it is still unknown who will break off the cool feathers.
The male, immediately realizing what was the matter, went down and sat down on the same bridge, near the tree, at the very nest where Kosach was toying, only closer to the pine tree, and began to wait.
The Kosach at this time, not paying any attention to the male crow, called out his own, known to all hunters:
- Kar-ker-cupcake!
And this was a signal for a general fight of all the cockerels. Well, the cool feathers flew in all directions! And then, as if on the same signal, the male crow, with small steps along the bridge, imperceptibly began to approach Kosach.
Hunters for sweet cranberries sat motionless, like statues, on a stone. The sun, so hot and clear, came out against them over the swamp trees. But one cloud happened in the sky at that time. It appeared as a cold blue arrow and crossed the rising sun in half. At the same time, suddenly the wind blew, the tree pressed on the pine, and the pine groaned. The wind blew again, and then the pine pressed, and the spruce growled.
At this time, having rested on a stone and warmed up in the rays of the sun, Nastya and Mitrasha got up to continue on their way. But at the very stone, a rather wide swamp path diverged with a fork: one, good, dense, path went to the right, the other, weak, went straight.
After checking the direction of the paths with the compass, Mitrasha, pointing to the weak path, said:
- We need to follow this one to the north.
- This is not a trail! - answered Nastya.
- Here's another! - Mitrasha got angry. “People were walking, so it was a trail. We need to go north. Come on and don't talk anymore.
Nastya was offended to submit to the younger Mitras.
- Kra! - shouted at this time the crow in the nest.
And her male ran small steps closer to Kosach on the half-bridge.
The second steep blue arrow crossed the sun, and a gray gloom began to approach from above. The Golden Hen gathered her strength and tried to persuade her friend.
“Look,” she said, “how dense my path is, all people walk here. Are we smarter than everyone?
- Let all people go, - the stubborn little man in a bag answered resolutely. - We must follow the arrow, as our father taught us, to the north, to the Palestinian woman.
- Father told us fairy tales, he joked with us, - said Nastya, - and, probably, there is no Palestinian woman at all in the north. It would even be very stupid for us to follow the arrow - just not to the Palestinian woman, but to the very Blind Yelan we will please.
- Well, okay, - Mitrasha turned sharply, - I won't argue with you anymore: you go along your path, where all the women go for cranberries, but I will go on my own, along my path, to the north.
And in fact he went there without thinking about the cranberry basket or food.
Nastya ought to have reminded him of this, but she was so angry herself that, all red, like red cocks, spat after him and followed the cranberries along the common path.
- Kra! cried the crow.
And the male quickly ran across the bridge the rest of the way to Kosach and beat him with all his might. As scalded, Kosach rushed to the flying black grouses, but the angry male caught up with him, pulled out, let a bunch of white and rainbow feathers through the air and drove and drove away.
Then the gray gloom came tightly and covered the whole sun, with all its life-giving rays. The evil wind rushed very sharply. Trees intertwined with roots, piercing each other with twigs, roared, howled, groaned at the whole Bludovo swamp.
Cool feathers
Ur-gur-gu,
Cool feathers
Ob-woo, cut it off.