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."

Chapter 7: The Roads of the Pamirs from Bear Metamorphoses

≪ to the previous chapter
After descending a bit lower, I found a cozy little clearing. It was warmer here. I decided to rest and figure out my route. I transformed, took out my phone to look at the maps, and saw—a missed call from Shams. I called him back immediately.

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.

A Whisper from the Netherworld - Short story

The five of them trekked through the gorge alongside a narrow mountain river. The path zigzagged capriciously, and the frequent rocky outcrops often rendered the banks impassable. They had to cross the river again and again, ford its cold currents time after time. But no one complained. These were wild, uninhabited lands—who would build bridges here? And that was precisely what they had wanted: to get as far away as possible, into the deepest backcountry. So, they all jumped across the slippery stones with enthusiasm, conquering each watery obstacle.

New Year's Tangerines - Short story

The evening of December 31st didn't feel at all like New Year's. It was snowing or raining, and a gusty icy wind made things worse. Huddled up, I walked along the sidewalk, cursing the wretched weather, the new year, and my boss who had made me stay late at work. By the way, they still hadn't given us our advance pay. Now I'll have to wait for my salary, and that won't be until after the New Year holidays. I barely had any money left. At least I managed to buy some food for the New Year's table in advance.

Village Mitote - Short story

"Do you know what mitote* is?" asked Sergey in surprise. "You are in the dark, even though you live in the city. Have you heard of Castaneda?"
"Well, in general, it's about shamans, right?" Dmitry responded uncertainly.
"I'm telling you, you're in the dark. It's not about shamans. Castaneda writes about magic and power," Sergey interrupted him. "The main thing is power, and the one who hunts for it better has more of it. Usually, it's done alone, but sometimes these hunters gather together, take peyote, and meet with Mescalito. That's what mitote is. So, will you come with us?"
"Tomorrow? I might go if my parents let me."
"Just tell them you're going fishing," Sergey got up. "Let me know by the evening if you decide to come. I have to go now, there's something I need to prepare and discuss with another candidate."
"Who is that candidate?" Dmitry asked.
"Remember Fedor? You saw us together at the train station. He seemed interested. Anyway, see you."
Sergey waved his hand and walked down the street. Dmitry got up from the bench in front of the house where his family usually spent the summer and went inside the courtyard.

Strength and Honor! - A Fanfiction Story from the "World of Warcraft" Universe

Kroghur opened his eyes. A soft light filtered down through the hut's roof, through the gap in the chimney—the sun had not yet risen. From outside came a noise like a disturbed beehive. For years, this sound had instantly stirred Kroghur's fury and the sweet anticipation of battle. The orcish clans of the Horde were preparing for a campaign. Today, like all the mortal races of Azeroth, the orcs were marching against the Burning Legion.

In Search of the Gusgarf Waterfall - Short story

Long before I set off on this journey, I was asked if I had been to the Gusgarf Waterfall. "No," I answered, "what waterfall is that?" Various descriptions followed, all of which essentially amounted to it being a large waterfall, about thirty meters high, also known as "Pioneer". I decided I should go, but I couldn't find anyone to go with me. It seemed like many people were hiking, but not specifically to that waterfall. I asked where exactly the waterfall was located, but the explanations were confusing. In the end, I decided to go by myself and find it. If it's such a big and famous waterfall, I'll surely find it, I thought. I'll ask the locals if I need to.

The Odzhuk Ring - Short story

People usually go on mountain hikes in groups - it's more fun and safer that way. However, there are exceptions to this "usually," and there is such a thing as solo hikes. Sometimes a person finds themselves alone in the mountains out of necessity, but that's different. I'm talking about when someone chooses to hike alone. The specific reasons why people choose to hike alone are always different, and this phenomenon applies to all types of mountain hikes. There are even mountaineers who climb peaks alone, the so-called solo ascents. This phenomenon is not new, it's just not very common. In the Soviet past, such individualism was not encouraged at all, so in the West, this phenomenon is more developed.

Little Boats - Short story

In my childhood, I lived near a big park. It was the main park of the city, traditionally named after the leader of the world proletariat. The park was truly big, but in my early childhood, it seemed simply enormous, like a whole world full of amusements, wonders, and interesting places.

Once, I don't remember exactly for what occasion, my cousin and I were given small plastic boats, one yellow and one blue. In the evening, after discussing it, we decided that early in the morning we would go to the park to set our boats sailing, to "launch boats," as they say. The park had many small ponds, perfectly suitable for our idea.

Just Annoying - Short story

“And what does that mean?” he asked, busy making coffee and not turning around.
“Just what it sounds like, and then I’m leaving with my friends,” she said, holding a cigarette in one hand and arranging slices of cheese and sausage on bread with the other.
“You’re leaving... with your friends?” he asked, frowning, putting two cups of coffee on the table, black for himself and with cream for her.

The Cave of the Mountain Spirit - Short Story

After hiking four kilometers up the gorge, along the river, I arrived at a wide hollow nestled between the mountains. Just above this hollow, three other small mountain rivers merged together. For some unknown reason, this hollow was called the "Meadow of Power." It had an oval shape, with the confluence of the rivers at the northern end of the oval. The southern edge of the meadow was surrounded by an archway of trees. Along the western edge of the meadow flowed a river. From the east, a massive mountain slope with White Bar Peak surged towards the meadow, with boulders and debris. Although I didn't know what made this meadow so powerful, all the accompanying attributes were present, such as towers made of stones and ribbons tied to the trees. The trees here were also peculiar, most of them had twisted trunks growing in various directions. However, I presume this is simply the result of constant avalanches and rockfalls.