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."

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.