Time to Gather Stones, Chapter 1, Segment 1

Translation of Time to Gather Stones, by Lidia Gladyshevskaya
Chapter 1 - the Land of Fire,segment 1


The bearded Ad woke up early. It was hard to discern in the dark cave - whether it was already the long-awaited morning, or the darkest of nights still continues.

Judging by the sounds of hellish snoring that were coming from the left and right, it was still night time.

He shook off the remnants of drowsiness and got up sharply, straightening his entire height.

The ceiling in the corner of his dwelling was low. Having forgotten about that in his sleepy state, the caveman hit his head and swore in the dirties of ways.

The loud cursing woke up the sleeping people. Rubbing the spot where he hit his head and continuing to swear, the caveman moved outside right through everything.

The sound of someone’s crashed fingers could be heard under his feet. He must have stepped on those in the dark. Someone’s loud scream could be heard the same moment, but Ad had already left the dwelling, and the rock that was thrown into his back did not reach its goal.

It was much lighter outside. His eyes discerned the outlines of trees on the background of the rocky ridge. That red mountain ridge called Flamia was the bearded man’s destination.

The first steps were easy. But in about a mile the forest became thicker, and the caveman had to break through rough branches that left deep cuts on his arms and legs.

Every time a sharp prick or a branch would penetrate his skin, Ad yelled loudly and attacked “the culprit” with his fists, as if it was a live opponent. The caveman beat the trunks of the trees with all his might, wishing to make revenge for the pain that was caused.

The mindless fight with theatres exhausted him and took away a lot of valuable time. He was planning to get to the coveted rock before sunrise, but he was still beating on the crooked tree stump when the first sunlight penetrated the woods.

The sun rays slid down the grey trunks and branches, none of which had any leaves on them that could help tell the difference between a real tree and a stick in the ground with thick pricks.

The early sun’s fire pained the edges of the night clouds with crimson light, cut them with red stripes, got in the very middle of them, where it became utmostly berserk, lighting up the sky with threatening flashes.
Up there, the struggle was happening, too.

Finally, the large disk of fire appeared from around the burnt edge of Rocky Mountains. The sun lit up the picture of the recent @fight@ on the ground - fallen, rotten trees, broken branches and bloody marks on the body of the savage.

Ad examined his wounds that were already beginning to hurt, and got even more mad. He spent so much energy fighting with non-existent monsters. May they go to hell. One more time he hit an innocent crooked trunk sticking from the ground right under his feet, and moved on in a hurry.

It was getting easier to move now that the sun was up. Soon, the thick of the woods ended. Ad was trying to walk in a wide-stepped pace, but not too fast.
He stopped by the foot of the double-headed mountain to catch a breath.

Translation from Russian by Gregory Novikov