Chapter 12: One's Own Place from Bear Metamorphoses

≪ to the previous chapter
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.

Chapter 11: The Bog Hunt from Bear Metamorphoses

≪ to the previous chapter
For three more mornings, Luka made me change my form. He demanded I speed up the process. In the end, the transformation became almost instantaneous. But Luka wasn't satisfied, forcing me to do it again and again — sitting, standing, walking, running.

Chapter 10: Luka's Vixen from Bear Metamorphoses

≪ to the previous chapter
Of course, Luka was already waiting for me, always knowing in advance when I would arrive. He was sitting on the porch, tinkering with something as usual. When I approached, he lifted his head.
"Well, there you are. Have some kvass after your journey," he nodded towards a jug standing in the shade.
I happily downed a cup.

Chapter 9: The Bear Amulet from Bear Metamorphoses

≪ to the previous chapter
I spent a couple of days at Luka's homestead, helping him with chores a bit, but we didn't really talk about anything important. Luka was constantly occupied with some object, fussing over it tirelessly, whispering something to it. I didn't ask questions, deciding that if he wanted to, he would have told me himself. If he was silent, there was a reason. I didn't see the bear during those days; after our memorable meeting, he had gone back into the forest.

Chapter 8: In the Dread Murom Forest from Bear Metamorphoses

≪ to the previous chapter
It was supposed to be a fishing trip, but it turned into a regular booze-up in the great outdoors, as often happens with men escaping the watchful eyes of their wives. One of my colleagues, who was from a local village near Kirov, had talked us all into going to a river aptly named Krivaya, or "Crooked." As Vysotsky sang: "In the reserved and dense, dreadful Murom forests, all sorts of unclean beings wander in hordes and sow fear in passersby."

«Fedot's Mitote» — A Short Story

«You don't know what mitote means?» Sergey asked, surprised. «Man, you're clueless, and you supposedly live in a city. Ever heard of Castaneda?»

«Well, sort of. Something about shamans,» Dmitry mumbled uncertainly.

«See? Clueless. What shamans? It's magic! Castaneda writes about magic and power,» Sergey cut him off. «Power's the main thing, and whoever's better at hunting it gets more of it. Usually you hunt alone, but sometimes hunters get together, take peyote, and meet Mescalito. That's a mitote. So, you in?»