The right clothes are the first thing to hunt. Have you seen the frog? She is dressed in a house. Therefore, any hunter after buying guns and clothes wants to buy a hunting house in the hell. Because in the wilds is more.

The house was small: five-walled, thirty-acre land. Counsellors and other shelters. The river runs with fish. A real puppy in my understanding. and self-sufficient. There even cell phones were taken only if on the roof to go, the staircase on the pipe to put and from the staircase to throw it up. Healthy holidays for hunting.

And then from the morning it was raining, the frost at 20 degrees, the life was hiding, snowmen themselves went into the stall. A good owner in such weather and the dog on the street will not drive, and hunters what is worse than dogs?

Not much worse. Beauty: in the furnace the wood is rubbed, the purge is tapped into the windows, five men are at the table, only from the bathroom, the conversations are conducted. By night, the second liter per breath has already gone, who is already sleeping, who is just going to.

On the street it is dark, though the eye is coole, and wheat. I hear someone knocking in the window. I went to open the door. As the snow opened me, a pair rounded me and I could see nothing. The door closed, the couple slept, I see, the girl is fourteen years old at first glance (then it turned out that she was sixteen already - a small just). The jacket is light, the hat is thin, the face is white and everything, the lips are blue and trembles even more.

- Uncle, let you warm up, please, and on the floor of the village. Well, which village there - the wall slipped, - I only understood from the second time what he said, the lips do not move from the frost. Here is the sex:

I am not alone...

“Call me,” I said, “who else is there. They don’t joke. Even though, sit, I’ll go out myself, and I stretch the unts.

The horses...

What kind of horses? - I ask myself, and I think that the girl's roof is completely frozen, - sit for a while, I'll see.

and went out. Really a horse. Three things. Everything in the snow and pebbles to the wall - there the wind is quieter. He returned to the house, smashed the men, the girl was transferred to the oven.

Vaska (he had his adoptive daughter was just twelve years old then, and the other: he would freeze his leg, then he would burn his school) took the girl: his legs with his hands with vodka, a little inside, so that it would warm up faster and put on a Russian oven, wrapped in a tub.

The rest. I was a cavalry to dig, and the rest of the horses specialists - in the village both grew up, one in the Tatar, the other in the Ossetian.

The girl was good, she didn’t even whisper when she was rubbed, only as if she was caught:

My horses are there. Do not tell anyone...

Why not talk? Why Why? Think of horses. Then they found out. The horses in the barracks were cleaned, the seed was given, the oatmeal was found half a bag, what was left of the old masters - all that is required, in general, I do not understand the horses.

The girl calmed down, fell asleep, and we drank another drink - the dream as a hand removed after such events. By morning the purge was over. The Dawn. We hear our maiden hanging in the oven.

“Uncle,” he said, “where is my clothes? I have to go until I find them.

Who is looking for? Are you running away from your parents? We look at the night guest. The haircut under the boy and the face in the spring is a sort of drawing red with curly, but still hornless.

Probably the police. I stole them.

Well, obviously, the horse was taken by someone. Red is like that.

Why? why? I almost ask the choir. There was only a lack of minors. Go then prove that it’s not us... It’s good that the traces are all gone.

Asked by. It turned out that she carried them from the slaughter. Old horses were, unfit for work, and there are asked. The girl in the summer from the city to her grandmother and grandfather came and cared for these horses - her assistant of the cottage in the former collage was installed. In the winter with feed "not very" - to hit the horses decided. On the cabbage.

We gathered it, who gave what, greatly, indeed, everything, but what was. The horses took off, sat down and said goodbye. Slavka then said that landing at the girl's - that it is necessary to land. He is a descendant of a cavalry, he can be trusted in such things.

We still followed the tracks to the road by the yamaha, for the case. By the way, not in vain. At eleven o’clock the police with the chairman and the bulldozer arrived. Police with the chairman - horses to look for, and the bulldozer to clean the road. We cleaned the road, thanked them, and no horses were found - we didn't even hear anyone. But to sympathize, sympathized - two bottles and a snack.

Everybody thought that the hunting house was the first thing? And purga, fire in the furnace, friends and juvenile criminals. The rest is not the hunt.

A few years later, they rested with their liver on a turbine, two hundred kilometers from the place of the events. Whether it was a birthday or a wedding, I don’t remember. The manager offered a horse walk. Go out to see. I asked the rider how much it cost.

“For you,” he says, “for free, you don’t remember me? What about me, and the horses?

Go find out in the cute painted girl that same frozen teenager. And the horse, she is a horse.