Han Ong

Kolya came in, his arms full of provisions from the cellar.

everything's fine dad nothing froze the potatoes are in good shape only i don't think we'll be able to get them to the station in such cold weather they'll freeze on the way i would take the cucumbers and mushrooms but i wouldn't touch the potatoes

The three of them were having a good time being men among men, savoring the pies and other country treats.

To celebrate their reunion, they peeled the potatoes and ate them with oil, but they didn't open the canned goods, deciding to leave them for the old women's Christmas feast.

Their nativity fast had just begun, but really the women fasted all year round with the occasional chicken as their sole reprieve.

Around ten that night, there was a knock at the door.

Nikolai Mikhailovich flew to his feet, shoved Boris's plate and glass into his hands, and pushed him behind the stove where Nura was sleeping.

The man at the door was a police officer, Nikolai Svistunov, a distant relative.

People in those parts had stopped paying much attention to family ties because it was half Svistunov's and half Yerofeyev's for three villages around.

Half of the men were named Nikolai.

Svistunov threw off his hat and unbuttoned his police coat.

Without saying a word, Nikolai Mikhailovich got a clean glass and filled it more than halfway.

I came up to see you because I noticed you're not heating your home.

There's no light on in there, Svistunov said.

You have to burn wood for three days to heat the house.

We just came up here to take a look at our property and pick up some pickles and mushrooms from our cellar.

We're going to spend the night here at Nurus and then go back to the city.

There was no road back from Danilovi Gorki, not even a ski run.

The only path was the trail that Nikolai and Boris had cleared, which was how the cop had got to the house.

Fresh snow had already covered their tracks.