Book II
The last gulls were flying away from the island, taking with themselves their feathery, spotted chicks who had gotten brazen over the course of the summer.
The summer in that year, though it had breaks for cold rains, was unexpectedly long, and the gulls were a bit late in their departure, went a bit soft, though, they say that some years they even waited until August to get their stuff together.
“Maybe the gulls will fly away for the winter, but won’t find their way back?” Afanasiev thought aloud. “They’ll land next spring somewhere in Yaroslavl… or maybe even in the kremlin in Moscow. They’ll say: it’s not so bad here; let’s stay here and yell!”
Artiom laughed, smelling a torn fir branch — it barely had any scent. It was strange, but even the flowers in spring didn’t smell he
