The lightning struck the rock with a dry crack, tossed aside and buried itself in the green earth. The rock was hard, the lightning barely managed to tear a few pieces of stone from that gray rock. The green ground beneath the rock was the burial ground of all the lightnings that burst in that valley; all the lightnings of spring and summer were buried under the rock, and the nearby oak always shuddered in fear of every explosion and, in his mind, thanked the rock that he, the rock, drew all the lightnings thrown into the valley and buried them under him and saved the oak from being eaten.
A little while ago, when the lightning was whirling over the valley and the hills, and thought to strike, and had not yet struck, the foal's mother called to the foal in a soft croak; the foal's mother knew that lightning would crack, the crack scares the foal, and the foal thought the mother was calling him to breastfeed and he listened to himself, he moved his ears and started listening to himself, whether he wanted to eat breast, and he didn't really want to eat, he wanted to smell the grass and flowers and know the grass one by one, and that's when he broke out the lightning. The foal squealed and ran to its mother, but it was very scared, it could not see its mother, it was running away in another direction. The mother wanted to go to the foal, but the neck rope prevented it. And the mother called the foal to her with a hoot.
The colt was a one-month-old foal, it was the first lightning in his one-month-old life. He took refuge under his mother's slope. From under his mother's slope, with his ears sharpened, the foal listened for a while to the drumming of the rain on the oak leaves, looked for a while at the rock, the mulberry bush, the oak, blinked his eyes and forgot that he was afraid of the lightning, he thought that he had come to his mother to eat breast. Wagging its curly, black tail, the foal crawled under its mother's belly. The old mare put her leg back and loosened the milk veins so that her foal could suckle freely and suckle well.
It was a starry colt, meaning it was covered with stars like hyacinths. The legs were thin and long. The calf of the right hind leg was white. He looked like a deer, his right hind leg was covered in snow. The neck was thin and long. The head was small, there was a round white spot on the forehead, like a star flower. Deer, deer and lambs came to drink water from the stream in that valley, and also that horse that had many foals, but this foal was the most beautiful creature in this green field. The head and tail were black. We didn't know what the colt's eyes were like because he was sweating and we couldn't get close to him, but let's just say that the colt's eyes were very beautiful eyes, because horses' eyes are beautiful, the environment is reflected in horses' eyes. The colt's eyes now reflected the oak, the flowers, the sycamore, his red mother, and all the green valley.
He was a bit of a fool, but a fool for being small. A raindrop rolled down between her legs and she squealed and ran away from her mother. His mother did not call him back. the rain had stopped, there would be no more lightning, and now it was sunny.
The green field glistened in the sun. In the wetness and abundant light the only oak in that valley shone, and the sycamore bush shone, and the horse's wet back, and the colt's back, and the stream that started from the gray rock and came and went through the green valley. The stream smelled like lightning, and the colt gave a little snort. Masrenu also smelled lightning. the colt made a couple of jumps, stopped, looked at the mare, and trotted off to sniff again.
The horse knew all the scents and smells of that valley. He knew the scents of all the valleys and hills, but he knew the scents of this valley better because the horse was often tied to graze in this valley. The flash of lightning was fleeting, in the sun, with the dew it would now disappear. The scent of thyme was not the scent of this valley either, the scent of thyme was blown from the hills into the valley by the wind. The horse grazed and smelled wet sheep wool. The horse thought that there were sheep grazing on the other side of the hills, so there were also gambrel dogs.
On the other side of the hills, sheep grazed, the wet grass of the valley is delicious, the water of the stream is delicious, - thought the old horse, - the sun warms, and the foal is born and grows in the warm goodness of the valley.
The horse raised his head. the oak stood quietly, the rock stood as if asleep, the colt smelled of the horse. The sun was warming and the grass was delicious, it needed to be grazed. The horse hung its head to graze, plucked a couple of mouthfuls of grass, but there was something disturbing, and the horse raised its head.
Standing motionless in the green valley, head held high, the red old horse looked at the valley for a long time and listened to the silence for a long time. Everything was as before, the oak was standing quietly, the rock was dozing, the colt was jumping near the tree. And it looked as if it could be grazed, but the red horse did not lower his muzzle to the ground, threw his head up sharply and waited with his ears sharpened to catch all the hidden sounds of the valley. And waited with open arms to smell the foreign smells of the valley. The butterflies fluttered, the beetles sang, the brook gurgled, the colt, with outstretched neck, followed the butterfly around the meadow, but the old red horse did not want to hear those sounds and did not want to see those sights. In the valley, at least, there was danger. There was no sound of that danger in the air, no sight of that danger in the valley, no smell of that danger in the wind, but the horse could not graze.
The old red horse became angry. The old red horse was angry that there was an enemy in the valley, but that enemy could not be felt, heard or seen.
Standing in the green valley, watching and listening to the silence were the gray rock, the luxuriant oak, the red old horse, and the sycamore bush. And there was no danger for the rock in the green valley, for there would be no more lightning today. The oak was watching, and all was well for the oak, for there would be no lightning and the sun was warm. It was good for Masrenu, too, because the colt's muzzle didn't reach a couple of flowers in her cat. And the old red horse sweated from tense anticipation.
The valley betrayed the horse. there was an enemy in the valley, but the valley did not betray the sound of the enemy and the smell of the enemy. The red old horse did not have the heart to go to the foal. he was afraid to lose the secret voices of the enemy in his footsteps. The red old horse did not dare to breathe. afraid to lose the enemy's secret breath in the noise of his lungs. The red old horse did not blink. he was afraid that with his blink of an eye the enemy would jump from place to place, and he would not be able to notice his jump.
In the green valley, the rock, the oak, the sycamore, the horse stood motionless. The rock was dozing. The acorns of the oak were filled with sap in safe harnesses, and all was well for the oak. Masreni had opened her vases against the sun and was drinking the sun, while the red old horse was trembling with anger. Never, not once had the valley betrayed the horse like this. Maybe the smell of the lightning prevented the horse's senses from smelling the smell of the enemy who was nearby, nearby and smelling, but his smell was hidden under the lightning's haze.
The foal would look at something and then look at its mother. He looked at the same thing again, then he looked at his mother. The mother did not see that thing, it was not visible from the mother. The foal would look at the thing, then turn its head toward its mother. Mother was standing with her head held high and her eyes were burning.
The foal craned its neck, opened its muzzle, and went toward the thing, and at that moment the mother smelled the hideous smell of the wolf. The mother squealed and rushed towards the foal and saw how smoothly and with a long jump the wolf left the ground.
On the other side of the hills came the short neigh of a horse. On the other side of the hills, near the sheep, the gambrel dogs tensed for a second, waited a little for other sounds and calmed down.
The red horse lunged at the foal, lunged at the wolf and the foal, but fell. He was an old horse, he had fallen before, but never so unexpectedly. Fell and rose at once. He had been brought down by his strong momentum and rope. The rope was strangling her, the rope was not letting her fly to her baby.
The foal ran away to a place far away from the mother, the foal wanted to come to the mother, making a long circle, the foal was reaching for the mother, but the wolf cut her way every time and drove her away and away again. And the rope was strangling the mother. And the foal leaped over the wolf to its mother, but the wolf caught its hind leg from under it, and the foal fell. The colt squealed and jumped up.
On the other side of the hills came the sharp neighing of a foal, and the hounds sprang up, and among the hounds sprang up the black-nosed Topush dog.
The foal squealed and jumped up, and then the mother became a tree and pulled herself with all her weight and all her fury towards the wolf and the foal, and the rope snapped and whipped around the mother's legs. Mother went with all momentum, all strength, all fury and all love. He was a very fast zombie, but he had never been so fast in his life.
On the other side of the hills could be heard the dull thud of his hooves. Then on the other side of the hills no sound of the valley could be heard, and the hounds and the little shepherd were at peace.
The wolf left the foal and was freed from being trampled. The horse was charging and the wolf ran away. The horse was coming again, and the wolf retreated a little further. With his muzzle touching the ground, the horse was coming, slowly, menacingly, the horse was coming, the wolf crawled on the ground and here and there could jump and hang on the horse's reins, and the horse turned.
The horse reared and the wolf jumped up and stood against the horse. With the foal down the slope, the horse turned again, and the wolf turned with him. The wolf kept turning and the horse kept turning. With two short jumps, the wolf was under the horse's muzzle, but the horse managed to turn and throw the buck again. With one long jump, the wolf got under the horse's muzzle, and before the horse could turn around completely, the wolf managed to scratch the horse's hooves, and the horse managed to trample him with its front leg. The wolf drew back, but did not run away, sat down and looked at the horse, and the horse looked at the wolf. And the wolf realized that the horse would protect his foal to the end, and the horse realized that the wolf would not leave. The horse was sweating, but the wolf was tired too. The wolf jumped at once. After that, the wolf kept jumping at the horse's rump, and the horse kept turning and keeping the foal down the slope.
It was already evening, their movements had slowed down, the wolf around the horse was moving slowly, almost dragging, almost crawling, and the horse was turning slowly, hard, sometimes stumbling and almost falling. Their eyes were dark and they could barely see each other. They were deaf from exhaustion.
The little shepherd went out to the top of the hills and looked at the sunset. The sunset was red, the only oak in the valley was beautiful in the sunset... but what the little shepherd saw was so ugly that the little shepherd could not speak; the wolf hung on the reins of the red horse, and the old red horse could not crush the wolf; the red old horse was already bowing.
- Boy, hey! - they called from the hills in front, - that gel is drowning that horse, boy, hey... where are the dogs, hey...
The little shepherd opened his mouth to chirp, but could not make a sound. The little shepherd only waved his hands. The hounds stiffened and stared. Gampr dogs saw and flew... Topush, Bob, Sevo, Boghar, Chalak, Chambar. Sevadunch Topush was a master dog, he went and caught silently, he was running silently in front even now, and Boghar was a hunting dog, he was still a little afraid of wolves. that is why he barked from afar, so that the wolves would run away, so that he would not fight with them. Boghar was now barking. Boghar was very fast, he now sometimes overtook Topush, but he did not dare to break away from the group and go alone, he stood and barked and waited for Topush, ran past Topush, but again overtook and slowed down again.
When the horse was about to kneel here and there, the wolf heard the barking of dogs in the distance, as if in a dream. The wolf did not want to believe that the dogs were barking at him. fortune could not be so merciless as to let her one full day's suffering go in vain, and she herself become hungry and empty beside her three cubs.
When there was no more strength left in her, and the pains in her legs were dulled, and her eyes were completely darkened, and her ears were completely deaf, the mother horse heard the barking of dogs in the distance, and she believed that the dogs were barking for her foal and for her; fate could not be so cruel that her foal should live only a month. The old horse knew that the dogs were near, and the barking of the dogs seemed distant because of his tired deafness. The old horse knew he could hold on a little longer, a little longer, until the dogs reached him he must. But how hard it is to breathe, what a heavy burden this life has become.
The barking of the dogs burst into the wolf's ears, but again the wolf could not believe that such a failure would occur after such agonizing success. The cubs at home hungry, her nipples empty... The neck was snapped, the ear was pricked, and the wolf let go of the horse's reins. The paw was caught. There was no strength to free the paw. The wolf wanted to sleep, sleep! There was no strength to fight, the wolf wanted to die, to rest. The wolf jumped and pinned the buck to the ground so the dogs wouldn't catch the buck. Dogs scratched his back, neck, pulled his ears, and he protected his body and rested under a pile of dogs.
The wolf bit a paw, and one of the dogs jumped aside in frustration. The wolf stood, and the dogs, surrounded, waited. Standing among the dogs, the wolf looked at the dogs, and they were many, and it was difficult, extremely difficult, impossible to get rid of them and drag them to the house where the cubs were waiting. Fangs open, the wolf looked at the dogs, the dogs looked at the wolf, looked at each other like that for a moment, and the wolf didn't know what to do, and the dogs didn't know what to do. And one of the dogs snarled, jumped and hit the slope, threw the wolf. The wolf barely managed to keep from falling and realized that the most dangerous thing was that black-muzzled dog.
- Boy, hey... Who are you, hey... reach and help those dogs, reach and help those dogs, let them drown, hey... - they called from the opposite hills.
The horse could barely stand. The horse's head was heavy and bowed. The horse could feel the foal suckling, and could scarcely enjoy the foal's suckling. The horse's head tilted, the forelegs folded as well, and the foal was still nursing. The horse came round. The foal was now standing by the horse waiting for its mother to mount, but the mother would not mount. The foal hit its mother's stomach with its muzzle, but the mother did not stop, did not move. The foal sat on its mother's belly, and the hind leg hurt badly, and began to suckle. And the mother was still milking, still milking, milking, milking, milking for the last time her now-orphaned foal, the most beautiful colt she had in her life, which was starry, with a black head and a curly tail, a white shin, and a star flower on its forehead, which was a little silly, but silly because of its smallness.
At least the wolf managed to escape. If she could not escape, her cubs would be orphaned and, utterly helpless, slaughtered, and the wolf was able to escape. It was not an escape, it was a retreat step by step, leap by leap, a few leaps by a few leaps; after a few jumps, when the dogs caught up and nearly caught him, the wolf would turn around, snarling and baring his fangs, and the dogs would stop, and the wolf would take a couple of jumps away again.
The giant black-nosed wolf could not catch the wolf's mouth, and the wolf could not bite and frighten him, but the black-nosed wolf was not chasing the wolf now, for a tuft of hair from the wolf's neck had entered his mouth, and the black-nosed wolf now fell back and sneezed and wiped his mouth in disgust. Black nose did not chase, and the other dogs were not dangerous because they were not masters.
The hounds lost the wolf, and then they lost the track, but for a long time they turned and ran and scrambled and howled in the green valley, where the rock was now darkened, the oak stood quietly, its calyx or two gathering dew to reveal the mare, and where lay the body of the red old horse. The foal was standing next to its mother and was a little worried, as if it already understood what had happened.
Under the sunset the whole valley was bright green, and it was black, very dark black around the old red horse. The red body of an old horse lay within that black frame. That black circle was the place where the horse and the wolf fought, that black was the horse's trample. Looking at that black, trampled, ruined, very trampled ground, one could understand how long the old horse had circled around itself with the wolf.
That black circle remained black like that for three years, for three years no grass grew there, and the white skeleton of our good old horse lay in that black circle. Then the green won. green grew in that black circle, flowers bloomed from the skeleton's wounds, grass grew, grew lush, and the green valley is now completely green.
When you look from the top of the hills, the green valley is completely green, the oak tree stands majestically in the green valley, the rock sleeps and listens to the rustling of the clouds, the masrene holds her five-flowered cup in the sun, and a starry horse is tethered and grazes in the green field, the right hind calf is white, the legs are long, the neck is long, the muzzle and tail are sunny and puffy, the forehead white star flower. When he takes a step, the right hind leg stretches a little, like a tendon tremor, due to an old scar.
A horse with a starry forehead raises its beautiful head, and in its eyes are reflected the rock, the oak, the flowering sycamore, the green valley and the white clouds of the blue sky.
- Is it over?
- It's over.
- No.
- Why not?
- Don't let the horse's mother die.
- I cannot say that the mother horse did not die, because the mother horse died. When the little shepherd came running down the hills, the mother horse was dead, the foal standing sadly by its mother's side. By the time the shepherd who called, "Boy, hey," came down from the opposite hills, the mare was already completely frozen, and the old shepherd and the little shepherd sat a while by the old red horse and thought how they would keep the colt.
- Then, how did they keep it?
- With another horse's milk.
- No, don't let the mother die.
- I can't say if the mother didn't die, because I fed that orphan foal with milk from other horses all summer.
"Shall I say, let it be?"
- Say.
- Let the shepherd on the other side of the hills be at the top of the hills and spot the wolf early.
- The shepherd was on the other side of the hills and saw the wolf when he came out to the top of the hills.
- Why did the horse die?
- As they were sitting by the body of the old red horse, the old shepherd told the little shepherd that the horse's heart had burst with fear and disgust and rage for the foal.
- Was he disgusted by the wolf?
- Yes, from the wolf.
- Let the dogs drown the wolf.
- I cannot say whether the dogs drowned the wolf, because our black-nosed dog swallowed wolf hair and almost died himself.
- Was that you the little shepherd?
- It was me, the horse was our horse, the foal was the foal of our horse.
- Has the foal grown up now, is it bound in the green valley?
- Yes, he grew up, tied up in a green valley.
- Does he remember his red mother?
- Maybe he remembers his red mother, because horses remember.
- Tell me again.
- The lightning struck the limestone rock with a dry crack, tossed aside and buried itself in the green ground. The gray rock was hard, the lightning was barely able to tear a few pieces of stone from that limestone rock. Only the oak was a little afraid, because lightning strikes and stings the oaks, and the long-legged starry little whip was very afraid. the foal is called a "whip"... it was so scared that it was running to its mother, but it could not see its mother and was running away. And the red old horse told him his place with a soft neigh...