The story ended, and she sat with her eyes closed. He was glad to be able to look at her beautiful face without falling into her captivating eyes.
"And what happened next?" She asked. "The wanderer fell in love with her? She gave him her kiss?"
"I do not know yet," answered the storyteller. "I can tell you this in a year, when the continuation is ready."
She approached him closely, and he felt the fresh coldness of her breath on the face.
"You torture me," she whispered. "You know that I'm empty inside. Only your stories can fill me."
"I know," he thought. "But it would be better if I haven’t."
"I'll write the next story about jealousy," he said. "About the new master of spring."
She looked into his eyes, her hands were on his shoulders.
"You know, I need human love." It nourishes me. "But you, only you fill me here." She touched the hollow between the collarbones.
"I'll tell you about the ones who replenish your treasury. About the fragments of their hearts. But it will be in a year. And now I must leave."
"You always leave me."
"That's the deal."
.
"It's too painful to be with you for a long time. And without you it is impossible," he thought.
"The deal," she repeated. "Well, I remember."
She pressed her lips to his lips. The storyteller burned with cold, but at the same time, while the kiss lasted, he felt that his heart was alive, that it again trembles in his chest. But it continued not for long.
"Come back," she said. "I'm waiting for you."
He touched his lips. His fingers were covered with frost.
"In a year," he said. "I'll come back to you in a year."
At the foot of the mountain, he met three highlanders bandits. One of them liked his straw hat, and he asked the name of a storyteller in a hope that he would be a natural wanderer. A stranger can be cut without fear and left undressed under the boulder. No one will ask, no one will come to take revenge.
"I'm a storyteller," he replied to the highlanders. "Would you like to hear my best story?"
Three shots merged into one. He didn’t push the bodies into the abyss, he left them to snow leopards. The one who wanted to take hold of his hat was just a boy. A lot of pages were emptied in the Book when he sank into the bloody snow.
Nothing moved in the empty chest of the storyteller. No pity, no guilt. He lowered the boy's eyelids, hiding the astonishment that had forever settled in his eyes. He squeezed his hand into a fist with a silver ring on the annulary.
"What have you done to me?" He whispered. "I fill you, but myself I am empty. There is no one to fill me. Who will travel this path with me? Who!"
The icy desert around was silent. He froze, throwing his head back to heaven and catching snowflakes with his mouth. Above him in eternal serenity a huge mountain rose - the home to the Mistress of winter.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12