Five days had passed since Luka and I returned from the bog. Gradually, the putrid aftertaste of the Navka's energy faded away. The most surprising consequence of that event for me was that I didn't want to eat at all. At first, I chalked it up to nausea, but that passed. Luka went around chuckling, explaining nothing in advance. When I finally asked him directly, he deigned to explain.
"We eat primarily to replenish energy, and to supply the body with various micronutrients. But that's secondary. If the organism has enough energy, it can synthesize everything it needs itself. So right now, you are overflowing with that energy. Depending on the strength of the creature whose energy you've assimilated, you can go without food for anywhere from a week to three."
"Synthesize, assimilate, micronutrients… I don't get you — one moment you talk like an uneducated peasant, the next you're throwing around words like that."
"What, just because I live in the woods, I should be uneducated?" he asked with a laugh and, without waiting for an answer, continued: "I only live here from spring to autumn. I have a house among people — what is there to do here in winter? The earth sleeps, and so does everything, including this Unliving. Well, that's what I assume. Maybe it doesn't sleep, but endures this period of inactivity differently. So, winter is a lull. And ever since my vixen taught me to read, I've practically discovered a whole new world for myself. So I read constantly, mostly in the winter. I have quite a library, you know. There, in the house, I even have a television, but I don't care for television; a good film, though, I'll always watch with pleasure."
"And where do you live?"
"Right now, in the district center. But I have to move from time to time — I don't age quickly, it draws attention. And it's always better for us to stay in the shadows. So I change houses, but the homestead is always the same one."
"So you always live somewhere nearby? But people could still find out."
"Hmm, and when moving, why not change my name and my face along with it? I'm a shapeshifter, with the will and skill, it's easy to adjust appearances. So that's how I move: from one village, let's say, Ivan leaves, and to another, Kuzma arrives."
"And what about documents?"
"Well, that's a trifle, like a ward on a path. It's a different thing here, but the principle is the same — nobody checks, they think they've already seen it or don't even consider the possibility."
"You have it all figured out so neatly."
"You live as long as I have — you'll neatly arrange everything around yourself too. It's a matter of experience."
"So, summer at the homestead, winter in a house, and that's it? Meaning, you don't travel anywhere else?"
"Well, you see, after wandering around Europe during the Patriotic War, I haven't gone anywhere since. And after my vixen, I settled in these bogs."
"What's so special about them?"
"Well, nothing particularly special, I suppose. A bog is a bog, but my heart has grown attached to it. How does that happen?.. A place, you see, becomes like your area of responsibility."
"Like an obligation? But you said there's no organization."
"And there isn't. You just don't seem to grasp it: we hunters have no obligations. Everything is by the hunt, by desire. But there is responsibility — the one you define for yourself, by your own conscience. You're still young, you don't feel the balance that must exist in nature, the harmony, you see. You don't feel yourself part of the whole. But it's alright, that comes with time. While you're young, wander the earth, as you say, travel. In time, you'll see, understand, feel where you are needed most, where, you see, your place is. And your heart, your desire — the hunt, you see — is your truest compass. How is that coercion or obligation? It's only love, you see. And how can you not protect what you love?"
"Protect? Who? People or what?"
"Everything, really. I mean — nature, and the earth, and all the animals, and people too. These creatures are harmful by their very nature — they drain energy, destroying and poisoning everything around them."
"But earlier you said that if a person doesn't see these creatures, then they can't attack him."
"Well yes, that's roughly how it is. I meant that ignorance is a protection for people, which works on this principle: what a person doesn't see cannot attack him. But that's in an ideal world and works with normal people. But not everyone is like that. And this protection, you see, depends directly on the person. If, for example, it's a drunkard or a drug addict — they sometimes see all sorts of things when they're really far gone, and it's not always just their imagination. It also happens that a person gets into devilry or some kind of magic, literally attracting trouble to their own head. People who are weak in soul — I mean faint-hearted, afraid of everything, or those who believe in nothing… For all of them, this protection doesn't always work. Which these creatures take advantage of — otherwise they would have died out long ago without sustenance."
"Believes in nothing… So an atheist can be attacked easily?"
"Quite the opposite. Atheists simply don't believe in God, but they *do* have convictions, and solid ones at that, with constant confirmation before their eyes — I'm talking about the materiality of this world. And accordingly, they aren't frightened at all by various spirits and other, in their opinion, superstitions. So it works out. You see, truly enormous power lies hidden in almost every person. This power is imagination and belief. Whatever a person conceives, if they believe in it — then so it will be, at least for them. And what I said — 'believes in nothing' — I meant a lack of spirit, referring to those people who have no belief in anything whatsoever, no convictions of any kind, just empty people, as if without a soul. And such people exist. But that's a separate conversation, and now look, the twilight has faded — time for us to turn in. No sense collecting mosquitoes," he said, rising from the table.
The next day, we sorted through some of the herbs gathered in the forest. Leaving them to dry in the wind under the lean-to, we settled down to rest on the porch with a jug of kvass.
"You promised to tell me about the fox you use for travel," I reminded him after taking a drink.
"Well, since I promised, I'll tell you, you see," he also took a drink and, after a short silence, continued. "Some of these beings don't seek to obtain human energy, so to speak, against their will. And with them, it's quite possible to... how to put it... Cooperate, I suppose. But you need to keep in mind — they aren't harmless either, so you need to keep your wits about you and first demonstrate your strength."
"Is that like the allies in Castaneda's books?"
"Allies? Ah, you mean that shaman-anthropologist. Well yes, maybe so. But we have examples closer to home. Remember, surely, Gogol's 'Evenings on a Farm Near Dikanka'? You think Nikolai Vasilyevich made it all up? Like when Vakula flew to St. Petersburg on a devil to get slippers for the Tsarina."
"So, on a *devil*. And you talk about cooperation, like allies."
"And what do you think those beings are? They *are* devils. And if you show weakness, they'll ride you in a flash, and maybe do something even worse. Those are the kind of allies they are. But they aren't particularly scary to a hunter — you just have to show them who's boss right away, so they aren't tempted. It's almost the same as on a hunt, only you need to subdue them without destroying their integrity. Until they acknowledge your strength and, you see, submit to you."
"And can you do that with any creature?"
"No, I told you — only those that are friendly or neutral."
"And how can you tell?"
"Remember what the Navka looked like, and the basilisk too. Well, those that are neutral, or even friendly, never look like frights."
"What do they look like?"
"Like something quite ordinary. Mostly — some kind of animal. They try to be friendly not so much to humans, but to our nature as a whole. With their whole appearance showing that they, you see, are also nature, the most ordinary kind. But it's clear that this is merely a guise, albeit a very convincing one. If they imitate some beast, they do it completely — with instincts, sensations, perception. The key point here is that they are still *imitating*. That means they can also teach you, share their image, so to speak. But one mustn't forget — they are not of our world, and they aren't alive at all."
"How are they not alive?"
"Not alive — and that's that. Why do you think they're called the Unliving? Although the terminology here is, I think, a bit, well, incorrect. Since they have consciousness, and they do live, but some kind of their own life, not ours, not organic. In general — the Unliving. No sense inventing new names."
"And where did they come from?"
"Not from our world, obviously. You mentioned that anthropologist — his shaman teacher tried to explain it in his own words. I, for one, would explain it differently, since it's all metaphors. How it all really is — you can't explain it directly, there are no analogies with our world. So don't clutter your head with it for now; understanding will come on its own later. For now, just know that they are energetic beings, you could say. Energy in its pure form, and in our material world they only create an appearance, although a perfectly physically tangible one. Their energy slowly but surely dissipates from various actions, which is why they need to replenish it. That's why all sorts of hostile creatures attack humans if they can. If they can't, they frighten in various ways, feeding on fear and any emotional outbursts in general. But if a being is not hostile to humans, then it's quite possible to arrange a sort of cooperation. It, you see, will allow you to use its image, and you will share energy. But it's not much, don't worry. The average person wastes a lot of energy anyway, for no reason. To sustain such a being, it's enough to simply pay attention to it — you know, pet it, stroke it, like a domestic animal, and that will be sufficient. Or move it to the inner homestead — there it will constantly be in your energy and, you see, will want for nothing."
"The inner homestead?"
"Ah, for goodness' sake, I haven't even told you the main part yet! But that requires a thorough conversation. So let's continue with the herbs for now, and when we have supper, I'll tell you all about it in detail."
Closer to evening, having finished with the herbs, we sat down to supper. I didn't rush Luka while we ate. Towards the end of the meal, he himself began his explanation about the inner homestead.
"Well, you see, the inner homestead is a place that you create yourself in your consciousness during sleep, sort of like what happens in lucid dreaming. Heard of that, I hope? For an ordinary person, this is hardly possible, as it requires a significant amount of free energy. Our energy body, among other things, can be considered a kind of reservoir for storing energy. It functions to keep the amount of energy constant, because an increase in energy affects the stability of the entire human energy system and can cause it to change. Therefore, in ordinary people, the energy level is more or less constant. In case the usual energy level is exceeded, a person starts engaging in all sorts of recklessness, some manias, obsessions, crazy ideas. And as a consequence — the energy is quickly squandered on all sorts of trifles. There are many energetic people, but they spend their energy on all sorts of foolishness. With a hunter, it's somewhat different. The very fact that a person begins to see what they shouldn't already speaks of a change in their energy structure. The ability to see reveals the potential to become a hunter, because the energy capacity changes. Or rather, it doesn't change, but rather certain restrictions that previously prevented the accumulation of significant volumes of energy are lifted." He got up from the table and continued: "Let's continue outside, and we'll clear the table."
We cleared the table together and went out onto the porch. It was already dark, but today Luka decided not to postpone the conversation until tomorrow. We settled on the porch. Luka continued:
"So, you see, when a hunter has enough free energy, he can create an inner homestead, similar to this one," he made a wide gesture with his hand. "Obviously, not exactly like this one, but whatever he wants, according to his imagination."
"And what is this homestead for?"
"For many things. But let's start with the fact that it's convenient for storing your forms there. There they can be separate from you and yet always with you. This place, even though you create it in your imagination, will be akin to a regular physical one. And it most likely *will* exist physically, but not in our world."
"In which one, then?"
"I don't know. Possibly in the same otherworld, in Nav. I already mentioned that it is, perhaps, boundless. And access to the place you create will be only for you, and for beings friendly to you. Well, you'll get into the details later. For now, I'll tell you the technique for creating such a place."
He then began explaining in detail the technique of complete relaxation before sleep, achieving the intermediate state between wakefulness and sleep.
"When you reach that boundary — peer into the darkness and imagine that you are walking. Various images, spots, flashes will begin to flicker, but don't leave anything to chance. Start seeing that it's as if it's getting lighter — force yourself to see it. This is where free energy will be needed, which after the Navka you have in abundance. Therefore, an ordinary person might not succeed in creating something, but you will. Imagine that it's as if it's getting lighter, and you gradually emerge from a dark, sort of corridor, into the light. And in this light, imagine a landscape that appeals to you most: a blooming garden, a forest, a steppe, mountains, a beach — anything your heart desires, even all at once. This will be the first stage. You must achieve a stable vision of this place, so that it literally exists, and you can go there whenever you want. That is, at first you will need to constantly perform relaxation, enter the required state — the dark corridor — and consistently arrive at the same recognizable place. Start today, it's the perfect time," he finished, standing up.
I surfaced from the memories as if from a whirlpool. Yes, there was a time, but it, unfortunately, doesn't stand still, so I'll indulge in reminiscing another time. Ten days had already passed since I returned from the Pamirs. All in all, I had fully recovered, of course without the usual surplus, but it would do. It was time to continue the hike through the places where, according to Luka, someone was waiting for me and even searching.
I always have various hiking gear ready, several sets at once. They can differ depending on the duration of the hike, the terrain the route will traverse, and of course, the time of year and, accordingly, the weather.
Having selected the necessary set, I went to the store — needed to stock up on food. I was aiming for about a week, but I should take supplies for eight or nine days, just in case. Until I encounter any Unliving, I'll need to eat regularly. It's not worth neglecting that.
Nevertheless, everything is shaping up nicely. On my intended route, I have one cache. Some time ago, I left a certain spirit on Maykhura alone. It was small, almost harmless, and I simply didn't have time for it back then. But now it's right on the way and quite within my power, although it might have grown stronger over time, but probably not by much.
Having gathered everything necessary, I partially packed my backpack. That's it — I'm ready. And now, you see… damn, it stuck. Anyway, tomorrow morning I set off on the hike.
