“Don’t catch a cold”, Klim threw at me instead of a greeting, and went into the house, leaving the hares by the door – as if not dead but frozen in their last jump. I got out of the eight-degree water, took off my trainers, and went barefoot on the frozen ground to the little house, hidden, it seemed, better than sunken ships in the ocean.
Inside, Klim was already sharpening knives, drawing them on a round stone.
“Can you handle meat”? He asked, noticing me at the door.
I nodded my head affirmatively. Klim put one knife in my hand and began to sharpen another, and I, forgetting everything I wanted to ask, trudged outside to gut the hare. I put one of the dead bodys in a big bowl and carried it into the water, delaying an unpleasant moment. I looked at him and thought about whether he ha
