Northern night

It was coming a northern night. When the stars are so bright and the forest is shining with the silver of northern lights? Furnace smoke from huts, buried in the snow, is swirling as a white cloud and flying into the heights, quietly dissolving into the frosty air.
  In a small village, surrounded by a centuries-old forest on the one side and a river on the other, there lived a family: father, mother and five children. The eldest son Dmitri was almost 14, and his four sisters, the youngest was just 2 years old. He was all over the support for their parents. He could bring water from the well, chop firewood, and light the stove hotter, look after the sisters when the mother cooked.
  That night, sitting at a small window, he watched as the snowstorm was covering the path his father went along to the hunt two days ago. The mother was cooking in the kitchen, occasionally glancing in the same direction. She was waiting for the familiar barking of dogs, the crunch of snow under the weight of skis, familiar creak of the door.... But minutes and hours were passing, and now it was already the third night, as he had gone away with two huskies to get prey. They were scared by a howl of wolves and wind whistling. Nobody could sleep, everybody was living with expectations. Having got from an old stool, Dima came up to his mom: “The weather will drop by the morning. I’ll take Belka (it was their dog), a gun and go to look for the father. He may have shot many animals and it’s heavy to carry them all…”  “Where will you go? You are little. The wolves are angry, and it has been snowstorm for the second week. I will not let you.”  - the mother said. “Go to bed. Tomorrow you will wake up bring some wood, I will prepare some dough and we will have cooked cakes by father’s coming. And now go to sleep on the stove.  “
  Dima went to bed but couldn’t fall asleep. He was remembering as he was drowning in the spring ice drift and the father pulled him out of water; as they were building rooms for the sisters and he was learning to keep an axe. Why this time the father didn’t take him to the hunt. For the past two years he learned to determine tracks, to shoot without miss, but the father kept saying: “Son, you should study and go to school.” “What school, if there is such a snowstorm!”- he concluded. “What should I do? To listen to the mother? I cannot leave them alone!”- the thoughts were running in his head, convincing by their logic. On the other hand it was snowing heavily, the trace was hidden under snow, but the closest person was alone and needed the help. And suddenly through a glimpse of northern lights in the window he remembered his father’s words: “If you want to really know who you are, forget everything that s around you and just look into your heart.”

  Early in the morning when everyone was asleep, he dressed, took a few biscuits from the stove, a piece of advance prepared corned beef from the cellar, put some cartridges in a bag and went out with a gun on the shoulders. The storm became quitter. He took Belka, put on his ski and slowly started to slide to the direction of the river…
  By midday it started to snow again. Belka was leading him deep into the taiga. It was necessary to have a rest. It would soon start to darken and there was still a long way. He couldn’t see clear traces, he wanted to return home because of fear and howling. Wolves were going after him, they were waiting for the night. Night is their time, time for hunt. The dog also felt the presence of grey guests very well, but despite it rushing forward.
  In the dark azure on a hill near the turn of the frozen river Dima seemed to see a light. He couldn’t believe his yes, but having come some meters closer he could clearly see it.” Whoever it was, I must run there quickly!”-  he thought and his heart was beating, as a small ray of hope was shining ahead.
  His excitement increased when a few hundred meters from the place Belka’s puppy, Snezhok, ran out to meet them. It was howling gently having felt the smell of the biscuits. In some minutes Dima saw his father. He was sitting in a torn fur coat with a tapered leg. His face and hand were cover with gore and deep scratches…
  He had a great trophy, premium furs. Wolves attacked him last night, he had just fallen asleep and forgot to add some wood to the fire. The dogs and his great wish to live saved him. But one dog was lying dead near two killed wolves.
  They came back in the morning. They were met by happy voices of the mother and sisters. There were cooled cakes on the table. At the moment Dima remembered again that night and father’s words: “If you want to really know who you are, forget everything that s around you and just look into your heart.”