Chapter 6: The Curse of the Circle of Darkness from Bear Metamorphoses

≪ to the previous chapter
Judging by the tracks, the Englishman, possessed by the jondor, after crossing the ridge, didn't descend but turned west. The altitude here, by the way, was considerable. A snow-covered section ran along the ridge's edge. After passing it, he turned. His path ran below the snow line but was still high up. Given how fast he was moving, one could only marvel at the Englishman's physical conditioning, whose name, incidentally, I still hadn't bothered to learn. If he continued like this without changing direction, he would eventually come out to a section of the highway between Ishkashim and Khorog. That road also ran along the border. Surely he wasn't going back to Afghanistan? That would be too much!

Chapter 5: Back Across the Panj from Bear Metamorphoses

≪ to the previous chapter
It became clear I wouldn't catch the group before they crossed the river and the border. The road from the Panjshir Gorge came out to the Panj River opposite Ishkashim. The Englishmen had turned right and driven along the Afghan bank towards Khandud. Theoretically, they could now cross at any point—they just needed to ford the river. But logically, they would wait for darkness. They didn't just need to cross; they needed to go somewhere further. Bek said they had taken mountain equipment, meaning they might be heading into the mountains. They could enter the mountains in numerous places, provided they knew them. And they did know—they had a guide.

Chapter 4: On Chicken Street in Kabul from Bear Metamorphoses

≪ to the previous chapter
On the Afghan side of the Panj, just like on the Tajik side, there was a small settlement near the bridge. To avoid being seen, I didn't approach it but immediately headed towards the road. Of the main roads, only one led south from the bridge—first to Kunduz, and then on to Kabul. I ran alongside this road, not getting too close, but not losing sight of it either.

Chapter 3: The Pursuit Continues from Bear Metamorphoses

≪ to the previous chapter
Nursultan, the driver who had taken the Englishmen to the city, didn't show up until the next morning. He said he'd arrived during the night and needed to rest. I was glad he'd appeared at all—he could have simply gone about his business and never come. I asked him about the Englishmen. He said he'd dropped them off at the "Sheraton." He also mentioned they had argued the entire way, especially the red-haired one, who seemed to be fighting with everyone. There were four of them, including the redhead. Nursultan left them at the hotel; he didn't know what they did after that because he went straight to the taxi stand. This stand was in the northern part of the city, the only place he could find passengers for the return trip in the direction he needed.

Chapter 2: The Lake of Spirits from Bear Metamorphoses

≪ to the previous chapter
My path now led to another point of interest—Lake Payron, also known as the Lake of the Peris. Another name is the Lake of Fairies or Spirits. It refers to the beautiful peris, spirits from Eastern folklore who always appear to humans in the form of alluring women. Peris more or less correspond to fairies in Western tradition, though those are usually small, while peris are human-sized. In principle, it's all mythology—where does one find exact correspondences?

Chapter 1: The Gorge of Fear from Bear Metamorphoses

≪ to the previous chapter
I only drank coffee in the morning—I wasn't hungry. I packed up the tent, stowed everything in my backpack, and headed back to the trail. I went down along the old caravan route. By evening, I was in the village, found a guesthouse—there turned out to be several here. I chose the one on the eastern side. Later, I would need to head east anyway, to the abandoned settlement—rumors were circulating about strange happenings there. But all that could wait; for now, I needed to recover. And that meant meat and alcohol.

Prologue: The Ice Witch’s Lake from Bear Metamorphoses

The going was tough—the altitude was taking its toll. I had walked about fifty meters down from the highest point of the pass saddle and found the spot where the creature had presumably attacked its victim. For now, we’ll just call it a creature. We’ll figure out what it really is later. So, the attack site was identified: a rocky outcrop jutted above the trail, perfect for an ambush. I examined it—just as I thought. I found a secluded niche from which a stale, nauseating smell emanated. It was logical to assume the creature had been coming here from the eastern side of the road.