The next morning, an unexpected problem arose: I couldn't decide what to take with me. The ingredients for catching the unknown spirit were clear enough, but the rest... Packing for a full-scale expedition seemed pointless—I had a place to stay in the settlement, and they'd feed me if necessary. However, the journey was through the mountains, and it was better to be safe than sorry. So I sat there, racking my brains about what to take and which backpack to pack it all in. I could manage with a small one, but what if I needed extra space? For instance, if everything went well and I had time to roam and gather herbs. The local ones were slightly different from those in the outer world. I could collect samples for comparison and testing. And then it hit me: why not make a clever move? I packed a large backpack into a compression sack and placed it inside a smaller daypack. I also packed the prepared ingredients, my sleeping bag, toiletries, spices, and tea/coffee paraphernalia. Everything fit, and now I had room for maneuver. Time to head out.
I decided to return to the snow people's world via Gushary—it was simpler and more convenient, both for transport and access to the passes. Everything went smoothly: I took city transport to the parking area on the northern side of the city, where not only private drivers but also minibuses to suburban villages departed. I took one to Gushary. From there, I followed one of the tributaries of the Varzob River in the direction I needed. This tributary was the very Daraykunal stream that led me to the passage to Pereval Okno (Window Pass). With the small backpack, the relatively gentle ascent was easy. After crossing the pass, I skirted a large rocky outcrop and reached Pereval Pyati (Pass of the Five). Just like when exiting, a blue trail appeared before the pass, though slightly shifted to the side. I figured: without the stone, I'd probably have missed it. Sure, I'd have been near the trail, but I likely couldn't have entered this world. I think the elder mentioned the passage doesn't change for several days. I'd need to clarify that for the future.
I reached the settlement. Local inhabitants started appearing; they no longer hid at my approach, but I didn't feel any particular friendliness either. No one was hostile, but people seemed to tense up upon seeing me, looking concerned. Of course, I could understand them: my very presence here was due to far from joyous events. And so much time had passed with no visible results from my actions. I went straight to my temporary dwelling along the familiar path. Dropped my backpack, sat down to rest from the journey and ponder the next steps. The anticipated event, where the entire tribe would gather, was scheduled for the day after tomorrow. I should go to the elder, clarify a couple of points, and start preparing. Well, no time like the present. After a short rest, I headed to his dwelling.
From my conversation with the tribal leader, I found out which adolescents had left the settlement during the period I was interested in. Figuring it out wasn't hard—I needed to look about a month before the first murder and the moment of the crime itself, since it was obvious the perpetrator was already here. And a month earlier, he would have needed to infiltrate, scout things out, and plan everything. During that period, three adolescents had left the settlement, all boys. Excellent, so a wreath would suffice. The elder had mentioned his granddaughter was just at the age for choosing a mate. She could be involved in the operation, which I requested permission for. He agreed, but I had to assure him she wouldn't be in any direct danger. She would simply place the wreath on the head of whomever I indicated, and then I would act based on the circumstances.
The next day, I resumed roaming the settlement, pretending to still be searching for the killer's lair. The elder had described the distinguishing features of the adolescents who had gone to the outer world and pointed out where they lived. I observed them in passing, trying not to show my interest. By the way, none of these lads gave any cause for concern—just ordinary boys helping their elders. The fact that they were learning trades within the settlement meant they hadn't qualified for the guide role. Now they were learning hunting and gathering; one spent all his time at the pottery workshop. In short, perfectly peaceful and calm kids. But one of them had to be possessed—I simply saw no other option. In the evening, the elder's granddaughter came, bringing not only dinner but also herbs and flowers for the wreath. We wove it together—well, she wove it, and I just added my herbs to hers in the right proportion. She kept the wreath with her. We discussed the signals by which she would choose whom to crown with the wreath and coordinated the general plan of action for the next day.
The following morning began busily: the settlement's inhabitants streamed towards the center, to the improvised square in front of the elder's dwelling. Almost everyone carried something to the nearby workshops. They had organized a place there where everything was sorted and stored. As it turned out, many kept hunted game or forest gatherings at home, or crafted things outside the workshops. Now, they were bringing it all together for exchange with other tribes. Again, no accounting: they just collected everything together, regardless of who brought what and how much. I didn't know what to make of it; this attitude evoked very conflicting feelings in me. On one hand, it was idyllic—freedom and plenty for all. On the other—my inner pack-rat was outraged by such wasteful behavior. What about saving for yourself, for your own family or at least for your loved ones?
Near the workshops, piles of all sorts of things accumulated: rolls of leather, nuts, dried meat, and other items I couldn't immediately make out, as I was observing from a distance. I was on the square myself, where hides had been spread out and treats set upon them. People approached, sat down, and chatted among themselves. Despite the liveliness, there was tension: people occasionally glanced around anxiously, and overall, they seemed somewhat restrained. I sat in one spot for a while, then started wandering among the people aimlessly, passing by those specific adolescents in the process. While two remained indifferent to my presence, one of them did react—subtly, but something was there. To be sure, I passed by him a couple more times. Yes, no doubt remained: he was clearly reacting to me. Although he showed no signs of possession, that only spoke to the skill of the creature controlling him.
This public event was precisely what I needed—to be able to walk around like this and observe reactions. Doing so in a normal setting would have been much harder. Passing by the boy once more, I found the elder's granddaughter with my eyes and gave a slight nod in his direction. She responded with an equally subtle nod: understood. I headed towards her and, as I drew level, said we needed to catch him away from the crowd. He was currently among his tribesmen, and if he truly was possessed, bystanders could get hurt. The girl nodded, showing she understood, and moved away from the people, roughly to the middle of the square where no one was currently. Everyone was clustered either near the workshops or around the hides with food. And here, she surprised me. I would have probably circled around, looking for a convenient moment. But she simply went to where no one was and called him over... Truly, female logic is incomprehensible to men, no matter which tribe the woman belongs to.
The boy looked at her in surprise but nevertheless walked over to her. I followed. As soon as he approached, she smiled and placed the wreath on his head. He stared at her, dumbfounded, for a couple of moments, and then, as they say, all hell broke loose. When she was weaving the wreath, I'd asked her to make it large enough to push down to the neck. For those few moments he stood motionless, the wreath remained on his head, but then the boy jerked—and the wreath slid down onto his neck. He let out a terrible scream, clawed at the wreath, trying to tear it off or remove it, but it was too late. The weaving of special herbs had formed a sort of ephemeral collar, fixing itself directly onto the spirit. I rushed at him from behind, grabbed this collar, and yanked backwards, simultaneously sweeping his legs from under him and stepping back. He toppled over, but I kept dragging him. As he fell, the spirit detached from the possessed boy. I dragged and dragged, and it just kept coming out...
The horrific apparition I pulled out of the teenager turned out to be a div at least three and a half meters tall. Though at first, I imagined the creature stretched to ten meters—fear has big eyes. As soon the div was fully free, it swung its arm and knocked me off my feet. I tumbled away from it. Before even stopping, I transformed into the bear, lunging back in a rush to prevent the creature from recovering. My charge sent the div flying back too, but that didn't stop it from tearing the collar apart. After rolling back, it, like a seasoned gymnast, nimbly jumped to its feet—or paws, I don't know what it had. Stretching to its full gigantic height, it apparently screamed something. But I couldn't hear and rushed at it again, aiming for its legs to bring it down. The creature was agile: it dodged, grabbed me by the scruff, lifted me sharply, and slammed me into the ground. Even though I couldn't hear, I felt the earth hum like a bell. "Well... this is going extremely poorly," flashed through my mind.
I glanced around briefly. The people had apparently tried to run when it all started, but failed—everyone was frozen in absurd poses, struck by sudden paralysis. So that was its main weapon: it could paralyze everyone around with its scream. That's how it killed those families. The scream didn't affect me due to my deafness, but I was losing time... Pulling myself together, I made another rush, this time aiming not just to trip the div, but to actually tackle it. To do this, at the last moment, I spread my paws, wrapping them around its waist. The div bent double, and we rolled together in a tangled knot. I, sinking my claws into its flesh, tried to reach its neck. The div, conversely, pummeling me with its own massive paws, tried to pry me off. The fight was dragging on. Given its power and size, this wasn't very good for me. This div was many times stronger than me, and my usual reliance on surprise hadn't worked. In the end, it pinned me underneath, twisted somehow cleverly, and wrenched my front paw behind my back. The confirmation of its monstrous strength came when it didn't just wrench the paw but, with a bit more effort, simply tore it clean off.
Excruciating pain made me black out for a moment. In that time, the div jumped off me, tossed the severed paw aside, stood to its full height, and shrieked again. And this time, the paralysis hit me too. Apparently, the severed paw had disrupted my integrity, and the paralyzing vibrations, thanks to a synesthesia effect, had finally reached my consciousness. Synesthesia, for those who don't know, is a mixing of signals from different sensory systems: vision, hearing, spatial orientation. It's considered a psychological condition where, due to illness or psychedelic use, people start seeing sounds or hearing colors. And here, somehow, clearly not through hearing, it had managed to paralyze me. Although that was already overkill—the pain shock had already taken me out. The pain flare was instantaneous, but then something blocked the pain sensations. I'd have to figure that out later, if I survived.
The div, meanwhile, was reveling in its power: it kept shrieking, beat its chest with its paws, and seemed to be dancing. Apparently, this short skirmish had frightened it, and now it was releasing tension, looking around triumphantly. Well, yes, basically, there was no one left to stop it. But it was clearly playing it safe, hence the constant shrieking, keeping everyone paralyzed. It would probably calm down soon and start killing and absorbing energy. And I even knew who it would start with. But I wasn't looking at the div; I was looking at my severed paw. Just like in that children's rhyme: "They dropped the bear on the floor, They tore the bear's paw off..."
But something strange began happening to the paw. First, something in me reached out for it, trying to separate. "Hmm, why not?" flashed the thought. "Got nothing left to lose." And then changes began occurring with the paw. The claw corresponding to the index finger began to transform, elongating and opening like... a beak. Exactly, a beak. Above the beak, an eye suddenly opened and blinked a couple of times. The fur on the paw blackened and turned into feathers. Another moment—and there on the grass, importantly spreading its wings, stood the raven Don Juan. Which it immediately announced to everyone present.
"Don Juan is great." No, I didn't hear it—the words echoed in my head as if I had spoken them. The picture before my eyes flickered, and I began seeing the square from two perspectives simultaneously.
The raven itself heard nothing—a legacy of the bear—which also saved it from paralysis. It looked around and immediately took flight, ending up right above the div's head. Although I was perceiving the raven's visual feed, I couldn't control it. However, it seemed to know perfectly well what to do. It dove sharply onto the div's head and, without the slightest hesitation, pecked at its eye. The div flailed its arms, trying to swat the raven, but it, deftly dodging, flew off and dove again at the head, aiming for the same eye until it pierced it. The div, from pain and surprise, completely lost control of the situation. The paralysis released me. I glanced around: people were fleeing the square in terror. I got up on three paws and, hopping, dragged myself towards the div. It was still waving its arms, trying to hit the pesky bird, which was now targeting the second eye.
The div had completely lost its orientation in space, allowing me to attack successfully. I didn't try to trip it; instead, I lunged straight at its invitingly exposed throat—it was looking up, still trying to fend off the raven. A lunge, a push—and in mid-jump, I closed the bear's massive jaws on the div's throat. The impact of my full weight sent it onto its back, with me on top. I had no intention of letting go. The div kicked and twisted, but I held on. For good measure, I drove the claws of my hind paw into its stomach, pressed down on its chest with my whole body, and tried to pull its snout further back with my remaining front paw to break its neck. It wasn't working very well—I was more stretching it—but I kept pressing, trying at least to bite through the muscle-bound neck. The situation was a stalemate: I couldn't bite through or break its neck, and the div couldn't break free. We were locked—who would outlast whom. And most likely, it would be me, due to the torn-off paw. There was no blood, but I felt myself weakening...
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone approaching, and backwards at that. Right next to us, this someone turned around—it was the elder's indefatigable granddaughter dragging a log towards us. I instantly removed my paw from the div's head, and it, unknowingly, helped us by lifting its head. And it couldn't see anything anymore with its nearly pecked-out eyes. As soon as it raised its head, she swiftly rolled the log under its neck, and at that moment, I struck my claws into the pecked-out eye sockets, putting all my remaining strength into the blow. *Crack...* With a sort of hum or ring, the div's neck snapped over the log, and a stream of nauseating energy flooded into my mouth. Yeah... A rather nasty aftertaste of victory, frankly.
There wasn't just a lot of energy; there was a tremendous amount. Although I was nauseated by the foul taste, my strength returned instantly. I clamped down harder on the div—I couldn't afford to lose a single speck of its energy. A cunning creature like this would surely recover given the slightest chance. And then I almost blacked out again, which in this position would have been a disaster. The excess energy started regenerating my paw, and the process was quite painful. But I held on, right on the edge, not releasing my grip. Through the agonizing pain of regeneration, I suddenly realized I was also growing in size. A little, but the growth was obvious. Oh, what a day of surprises. My bear was large but fit the description of a regular brown bear. I just hoped I wouldn't turn into some absurd monster. And being too big isn't always an advantage.
Amid these thoughts and worries, the energy that constituted the div's essence flowed into my enlarged form. I stood on my hind legs and stretched to my full height. Definitely—I had grown. Now I could be compared to a mature grizzly. Well, that's fine. I'd just have to train longer to control the new dimensions. I lowered myself to the ground and brought the new paw to my muzzle, flexed the claws—seemed alright. Time to transform back. *Poof*—and the world filled with a multitude of sounds. The first thing I heard was:
"Don Juan is great," the raven declared importantly, strutting on the grass.
"You're not just great, you're a hero, my friend. If it weren't for you, I don't know how this would have ended."
"Don Juan is a hero," the raven repeated after me, took flight, and suddenly, spreading its wings, darted towards me and pressed against my back as if trying to hug me. But something else happened: it simply dissolved into me. And I suddenly understood it had returned to my inner enclave—that place in the dream world where it used to reside. Hmm, I never fully believed such a place could exist outside my imagination, and now I don't know what to think. And, by the way, did it hear what I said? If I can see what it sees, then there must be feedback too. It's all so confusing... I need to figure this out, and the sooner, the better.
"And you, beautiful, are great and a hero—a heroine, that is. You really saved the day with that log. If you hadn't brought it, things could have gone very differently," I said to the elder's granddaughter, who hadn't thought of leaving and was watching with interest as I broke the div and then talked with the raven. But as soon I paid attention to her, she giggled into her fist and dashed off towards the workshops.
People began cautiously gathering on the square. The elder was the first to approach me, while several women rushed to the boy lying nearby. They lifted him and carried him off somewhere.
"And where is..?" the elder began, looking around.
"Nowhere anymore. It's gone, as if it never was," I answered him and stood up. I swayed. The nausea was getting worse.
"Are you alright? Do you need anything? Can I help?"
"I need to rest, lie down. And I need alcohol and meat, preferably a lot of it," I uttered, swaying, turned, and trudged towards my temporary dwelling.
"Alcohol... We know this human pastime; we don't consume it ourselves. But the healers sometimes distill it for remedies. I'll have them bring you what we have. Since you need to celebrate immediately..."
"Not to celebrate, to dilute the div's energy. There's too much of it, too nauseating. And lots of meat," I muttered, not stopping. I urgently needed to lie down, and not in public—the nausea was intensifying.
"Yes, yes, don't worry, they'll bring everything..." He kept talking, but I wasn't listening anymore, slowly but purposefully trudging towards my intended destination—my temporary dwelling.
The day and night after the fight were very rough for me. To put it in order: by the time I reached my shelter, several dishes of meat and some covered tub had already been delivered. The tub contained moonshine, quite foul-smelling. What did they distill it from? Though, no, I don't want to know or guess—otherwise I definitely won't be able to drink it. I tried it—around fifty or sixty percent alcohol, well, no choice. It's like this with alcohol: all those smells and strength only matter for the first couple of shots, or cups, in my case. After that, it doesn't matter as much. The meat, however, was excellent. I scooped up some moonshine with a cup, drank it, and started on the food.
The nausea gradually began to be overpowered by the unpleasant taste of the moonshine, and eventually, I stopped feeling that too. After a while, I pushed away from the hide, having almost finished everything. Time for a nap to speed up the assimilation of the div's energy. And so it went: I'd fall into a murky doze, then wake up and drink moonshine, snacking on the newly brought meat. The images flickering in this drowsy state were mostly disjointed and unclear, but sometimes something coherent slipped through. These were scenes where the div felt joy and pleasure seeing the helplessness of its paralyzed victims. Sometimes—fear and anxiety when it noticed me in the settlement, and for some reason, indignation. Over time, it became clear: it was indignant that I was supposed to have been driven away from here. "This bear-man is here, and there's no way to find out what happened to those I sent to deal with him." And so I spent the whole day and the following night, until towards morning I finally fell into a proper sleep.
