Her single eye was watering from the wind, her legs wouldn’t obey her, sinking into the loose snow. Anya thought she knew which way the village was, and she hadn’t gone that far, but when she looked back, she suddenly saw nothing: no lights, no smoke, just a curtain of snow. Fear gripped her. She shone the flashlight at her feet, trying to find her own footprints, but the drifting snow quickly covered them, and Anya couldn’t figure out which side she had come from.
Her body, already chilled by the damp, piercing wind, was struck by an even deeper cold. Anya didn’t want to die, though she couldn’t imagine how she would live without Igor either.
“My little forget-me-not!” he used to say tenderly, stroking her cheek. “The most precious girl in the whole world.”
When Anya lost her eye, her mother cried for days, lamenting that no one would ever marry Anya now. Anya had been coming home from school, running to rehearsal for the New Year’s party, when drunk Vasily didn’t see her fragile figure and knocked her down with his tractor like a paper doll. When Anya was in the hospital, Vasily came to her to apologize, but her mother drove him out, cursing him with such terrible words that even the nurse putting Anya’s IV in turned pale and pressed her hand to her lips.
He never came to see Anya again. Or rather, her mother never let him get close: she threatened to impale him on a pitchfork if she saw him near the house. She didn’t take the money for treatment either, said Anya didn’t need his damned money, she needed her eye.
In fact, the money would have come in handy — they could have bought a good prosthesis. As it was, Anya had to make do with one that was too small and a different color. But her mother was wrong to think this would scare off suitors. On the contrary: even the boys who had never noticed Anya before became gentler and kinder to her. And Igor became her loyal knight: he walked her home after school and fought anyone who dared even cast a crooked glance at her.
They only got married six years later, when Igor finished his military service and completed his studies as a livestock technician. They lived quietly and modestly; their only dream was to have a child, but she never managed to carry a single pregnancy beyond eight weeks. Her mother started again: now that’s it, your husband will leave you, who needs a barren wife. But Igor, though he cried every time Anya came home pale, clutching her hands to her flat belly, trying to stop the dull dragging pain, had no intention of going anywhere.
“We’ll wait another year and then we’ll take a baby from the orphanage,” he would say.
Igor had one passion — hunting. He often went into the forest; in winter he would go by sleigh, setting snares for hares. Every time he went, Anya worried. She kept thinking something bad would happen to him in the forest, like it had with her father, who was torn apart by a rogue bear when Anya was only five. But she never forbade him; she loved him and couldn’t deprive her husband of his only escape just for her peace of mind.
Yesterday he had left in the sleigh, as usual. He said he would check the snares and come back. Anya grew anxious as it began to get dark. She stood by the window, watching the road, listening for Igor approaching. Time passed, but Igor still didn’t come back, and it felt as if a steel blade had been driven under her ribs.
The horse came back at nine in the evening. Alone. In the sleigh there was only his rifle and a sack with a hare. Anya started shaking with feverish chills; for a long time she couldn’t figure out what to do. Then she finally guessed and ran to the village head, telling him in broken, sobbing phrases what had happened.
The men went out searching right away. They took dogs, flashlights; someone brought firecrackers. They searched all night and into the morning. They didn’t take Anya with them.
“No place for a woman in the forest. You wait at home and keep the stove hot — if we find him, he’ll need warming up, it’s freezing out there!”
All night Anya prayed for Igor to be found, begged the heavens for the frost to ease. And heaven heard her: by morning gray clouds rolled in, it grew warmer, and thick, sharp snow began to fall.
At noon the men came back.
“A blizzard like this — we’ll get stuck ourselves,” they explained guiltily.
Anya begged them to keep looking, but each one found some excuse, awkwardly avoiding her eyes.
“If he were alive, he’d have come out on his own already,” said their neighbor Tolik. “We didn’t want to scare you, but we saw the tracks of a rogue bear…”
She remembered her father and his clear, forget-me-not blue eyes. He had been buried in a closed coffin; they hadn’t even let her mother see him.
“Please, you have to look for him, I feel with all my heart that he’s alive!” Anya pleaded. “Let me come with you!”
But the blizzard had really hit its stride, and they all said in one voice that they had to wait until it calmed down at least a little.
When everyone had left, Anya sat for a while in the kitchen by the stove, put more wood in it, dressed warmly, took a flashlight and went out.
She regretted never going to the forest with Igor, though he had invited her. All she knew was roughly which side he set his snares on, so she went at random, hoping that her heart would lead her where it needed to.
When a branch cracked behind her, Anya’s first thought was joy — Igor! But immediately a second thought followed: a bear…
She was afraid to turn around. But then a yellow beam of light flickered, and Anya cried out with relief, turning.
It wasn’t Igor. A stocky, short figure loomed between the trees.
“I figured you’d go out here alone!” she heard a hoarse voice.
The man stepped forward, and Anya was able to see his face. It was Vasily…
She recoiled, nearly crying out. Tears burned her cheeks, numbed by the wind.
“You can’t be out here alone in a blizzard like this,” he said.
Anya was already getting ready to say that he shouldn’t even bother trying to talk her into going back, she wasn’t returning to the village without her husband, but Vasily said:
“Come on, his snares were in that direction, and there’s a clearing here, the sleigh tracks were still visible this morning. We’ll find your husband, don’t cry.”
They moved on side by side, sweeping their flashlights back and forth, peering at every hint of a body lying in the snow. The wind had died down, but the snow kept falling in prickly grains, filling their eyes and nose, making it hard to breathe, almost panic-inducing. How were they supposed to find Igor under all that snow?
“Forgive me,” Vasily suddenly began. “Maria Alexandrovna was right to drive me away back then, I didn’t deserve your forgiveness. Every time I think about that evening, something squeezes in my chest. I didn’t mean it, Anya, I was an idiot. I haven’t touched a drop since. My wife came back to me, we had a son, and it’s like it all happened thanks to you — but that’s not fair, is it?”
His dull voice seemed to scatter the falling snow. Anya didn’t look at Vasily, didn’t answer him, but her one eye was carefully scanning the trees. And at that moment she noticed… A little mound, small, as if it were just a snowdrift, but it looked somehow out of place here. Shining the flashlight on it, Anya sent Vasily a silent question. He understood everything at once, rushed forward and began to dig the snow away with his hands. Something dark appeared. Anya cried out. She was afraid to come closer; her legs wouldn’t obey her. Vasily leaned over the body, jerked his head up and shouted:
“He’s breathing! He’s alive!”
She fell to her knees beside them and started scooping away the snow with her hands. Igor was cold, pale, and Anya looked at Vasily in panic — was he really alive?
They dragged him home in their arms — no matter how Vasily tried to wake Igor, the man only groaned, pushing someone away in his sleep.
If it hadn’t been for the snow, they would have made it quickly, but their legs kept getting stuck, and they had to stop and shift their heavy burden from one grip to another.
When the village lights appeared, Anya exhaled.
“Sit here,” Vasily ordered. “Here’s the rifle, if anything happens — shoot. I’ll be quick, I’ll borrow a sleigh from someone and come back.”
Anya laid her husband’s head on her lap, warmed him with her breath, begged him to wake up. Hot tears fell onto his face, and Anya wiped them away with the inside of her mitten — the outside was covered in sharp chunks of snow.
The sleigh appeared faster than she had expected. Vasily was driving at full speed, shouting at the horse. They laid Igor in the hay, covered him from all sides and set off. At home they immediately undressed him, wrapped him in a warm blanket, and gave him hot sweet tea. At last Igor opened his eyes. He stared blankly, as if he didn’t understand where he was or who he was. Only when his gaze met Anya’s did he smile faintly:
“My little forget-me-not…”
When Anya jerked up to thank Vasily, he was already gone without a trace. She ran out onto the porch and called:
“Vasya! Thank you!”
His stocky figure was just visible by the gate. Vasily turned around and waved to her. Anya smiled and waved back.
