Chapter 3
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The women began preparing food, while children curiously peeked at Anna, this strange outsider.
In the communal tent, Anna sipped steaming hot meat broth, feeling life returning to her frozen body.
The broth came in a copper pot with edges polished to a shine, its bottom still bearing the black marks from years of use.
The soup contained small pieces of dried fish with a salty umami taste of the sea, along with chopped wild green onions that added a hint of spiciness—perfect for dispelling the cold. Sima explained that the fish was Arctic char caught in summer, dried in well-ventilated areas to preserve it for the entire year. The wild green onions were harvested from the river valley in autumn, buried in snow piles, and dug out still fresh when needed.
Several elders sat around the fire, cradling smooth wooden bowls as they sipped their soup.
A little girl of about five or six timidly approached Anna, clutching a frozen berry in her tiny hand—deep purple like a blueberry, covered with a layer of white frost.
The little girl said in broken English: "For... you... sweet."
Anna took the berry, her fingertips brushing against the little girl's hand. She realized the child's hands were wrapped in thick sealskin gloves, surprisingly warm.
The little girl was named Kaya, Sima's granddaughter. She looked at Anna with wide, curious eyes and asked: "The city... does it have snow? Does it have... deer?"
Anna smiled and shook her head. "Snow in the city melts quickly," she explained. "There are no deer, but there are buildings taller than the tallest trees."
Kaya tilted her head, seeming half-understanding. "Buildings... tall... do they block the stars?"
Atami sat nearby, working a polished deer antler with a small knife.
Anna leaned over to look. A simple deer pattern had already emerged from the antler, with flowing lines that seemed effortlessly drawn.
"This is for Kaya," Atami said softly. "In our tribe, before a child's first hunt, elders carve an animal ornament to bless them with safety."
He pointed to the pile of fur in the corner of the tent. "Those are arctic fox pelts caught last winter. Fox fur is soft and makes the warmest gloves. Kaya's gloves are made from this."
Outside the tent, young tribe members arranged packages on the moose's back—bundles sewn from animal hide with colorful knots. Sima explained that each knot style had meaning: square knots for food, slip knots for tools, bow knots for clothing. A young man named Ella checked the moose's hooves, wiping snow away with a cloth. "Moose are our friends," he said. "In winter, we rely on them. If their hooves get frostbitten and crack, they can't walk." Anna watched the moose standing quietly in the snow, its eyes like black grapes, and realized that although this snow plain was cold, it held a warmth she had never experienced before.
"You said you found a map pointing to Novak?" asked a middle-aged woman named Sima, Atami's daughter. "Can you show it to us?"
Anna took out the notebook she'd brought from the cabin and turned to the map page.
The tent fell into complete silence.
"This belonged to old Marrack," Sima said softly, her fingers gently caressing the page. "He was the last person to leave Novak. His cabin still stands in the woods."
Anna remembered the wooden cabin and the scratches inside the door. A chill ran through her. "Why did he leave?"
People exchanged uneasy glances.
Finally Atami spoke. "Marrack lost his entire family. His daughter died of illness, his wife from grief shortly after, and his son in a hunting accident. He lived alone for years and grew increasingly strange. Then one day, he stumbled into our new settlement, covered in wounds, raving that Novak had 'come alive.'"
"Come alive?" Anna echoed.
"He said the land remembers pain and has begun replaying the past. You hear voices that don't exist and see people who aren't there." Atami's voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "He said those memories have developed lives of their own, and they are hungry."
Outside the tent, something seemed to mingle with the sound of the wind—like distant crying. Anna shuddered.
"That's just a legend, right?" She tried to keep her voice steady. "A metaphor or something?"
No one answered. After a while, Sima said softly: "Some places are indeed different. Novak is such a place. Animals avoid it, compasses spin wildly there—and not just because of geomagnetic storms. People who've been there say they feel watched, hear voices calling their names."
Anna recalled the uneasiness she'd felt in the cabin, the scratches on the door, and that faint yet persistent bell sound.
But she had heard the bell sound, and it had led her to these people. That didn't prove anything supernatural.
"I still need to continue on my way," Anna said firmly. "If you could point me in the right direction, I'd be very grateful."
Atami sighed but nodded. "Tomorrow morning, we'll show you the way. But tonight, you'd better stay with us."
That night, Anna slept in the communal tent, listening to the wind outside and the distant, faint howling of wolves.
She had a strange dream: she stood in the snow, surrounded by semi-transparent figures moving about, busy and talking, but she couldn't hear their words. Then everyone turned to her, reaching out their hands, mouths opening and closing as if calling out—but in complete silence.
She woke with a start, heart pounding.
The others in the tent were still fast asleep, but Anna had a strong feeling—something was outside.
She quietly got up and walked to the tent entrance, carefully lifting the flap just enough to peek through.
Outside on the snow there was nothing, only moonlight reflecting off the endless white, casting a pale blue glow.
Then, at the edge of the forest, she saw it: a blurry figure, humanoid in shape but too tall and too thin, standing motionless in the shadows.
Anna held her breath. The thing raised one hand—that hand was too long, with fingers like tree branches—and slowly beckoned to her. Some inexplicable impulse seized her, urging her to walk out and follow it.
"Don't look at it," Sima's voice came from behind, a hand gently resting on her shoulder. "Turn around and go back to sleep. It cannot enter the tent."
Anna let the flap fall, her heart hammering against her ribs. "What was that?"
"An echo," Sima said simply. "A fragment of memory. Sleep now, everything will be fine by daybreak."
