Raven's Blade.

e to extract myself from the snowdrift beloved. The exciting process of shaking the snow out from under the collar of the sweater, the sleeves of the jacket and his

ouls were not observed here. As well as there were no sugary-sweet landscapes from Christmas cards, in which even sn

extbooks that I conscientiously crammed at school, there was no place for these giants that now towered over my head: huge, three-girth trunks cover

nted the snow, clogged in sneakers. The eyes had to be opened. The trees stood around as they had been for thousands of years before my triu

t of first touching and then thinking, I decided that nothing bad w

uraging. In addition to trees, there was snow

. The depth of snow was the same everywhere, which I determined empiri

used by the indifferent circles of the three black moons. Yellow veins curled along them, making them l

logical conclusion gave me optimism. I did not believe in fairy tales, just as I did not believe in aliens, parallel worlds and ghosts. Such a sky simply could not exist, therefore, I still went crazy o

n to melt, forming a cloudy puddle on the palm. It's funny, my skin didn't feel col

our," my voice sank into silence. There w

re south? "After all, the further south, the less snow," I reasoned logically, and firmly deciding to go in this direction, I made a couple of mi

n strict order, at a distance of ten meters from each other, drawing a forest like a chessboard, as if the hand of a person whose

shiny sand. "Maybe a fire? "- the thought flashed, but it was immediately blown away by the pressure of iron logic. "It doesn't look like the trees were affected." Obeying the law of universal curiosity and sud

I just gently brushed off the remains of sand from the skull and began to carefully examine the "trophy" for inconsistencies with the anatomy. In general, close study was not needed here: elongated fangs, more reminiscent

crazy with joy. The remains of a vampire or a saber-toothed man are more abr

k in its original place and spr

y things about the relationship between talking with bones and an excursion to a cozy room, with soft walls, a rubber floor, a white ceiling and the right to hope. "May your sl