It was the autumn Lauren turned two when the first blizzard struck the Chukotka Peninsula. Strangely, this blizzard was accompanied by rolling thunder, a rare celestial phenomenon unseen for a thousand years.

That night, furious heavenly lightning bombarded the village. Many huts were struck by lightning, instantly engulfing the village in a sea of fire. A good number of people were left to endure the cold of the blizzard in the open air.

Zoya’s house also burst into fierce flames from that divine thunder; the family’s fate was unknown.

The next morning, as villagers searched the ashes of Zoya’s incinerated home for survivors, they heard a frenzied dog bark. A massive black mastiff, the size of a calf, leaped out of the ruins, carefully carrying a soot-stained girl in its jaws.

The villagers were stunned. Seeing the black mastiff standing amidst the white snow, it looked like a famished wolf, its eyes blazing with savage light, radiating an ominous aura. Since they didn't know Zoya had secretly taken in Lauren, and they recognized Zoya’s dog, they assumed Lauren was the source of all the disaster, believing this black mastiff would bring annihilation upon the village.

Angered, a villager immediately raised his hunting rifle and shot Lauren in the abdomen.

Lauren let out a pained shriek, but ignoring the excruciating pain, it bolted toward the steppes, the girl still firmly held.

The villagers knew the black mastiff carried Zoya. To rescue her, they dispatched every hunting dog in the village to pursue.

Unexpectedly, though severely wounded, Lauren ran with incredible speed, carrying Zoya, covering over five hundred li in a single day. The hunting dogs relentlessly chased until they reached the dense spruce forest beneath Mount Dora.

The spruce forest was thick with trees, perpetually cold and damp. The hunting dogs could move freely through the underbrush, but the hunters could not keep pace. In a short while, the dozen or so hounds, following the trail of blood, vanished into the dense woods.

The hunters struggled to push through the thicket for about an hour before hearing the terrible cries of their hunting dogs fighting an enemy not far ahead.

When the hunters finally pushed aside the thorny ground cover and arrived, they saw a blood-soaked black mastiff standing amidst the corpses of the hunting dogs, staring coldly at them.

The hunters were aghast. In the mere ten minutes since they heard the sounds of battle until their arrival, the village’s dozen finest hunting dogs had been instantly killed by the black mastiff.

This confirmed their belief that the black mastiff was an evil omen. The hunters raised their rifles, determined to slay the vicious dog.

Perhaps due to its existing grave injuries compounded by the fierce fight, Lauren had bled too much and collapsed, unable to move. When it saw the rifles aimed at it, it lacked the strength to flee.

But just as the hunters were about to pull the triggers, the long howls of the Steppe White Wolves echoed from all directions within the dense woods, and the surrounding bushes began to shake violently.

The hunters knew this meant a large pack was closing in. With all their hunting dogs dead here, they stood no chance if the wolf pack attacked en masse.

In desperation, they fired two shots and fled in disarray. Thorns tore at their trousers and scratched the backs of their hands, yet they paid it no mind, retreating in the direction they had come. But the wolves pursued relentlessly; pairs of pale blue eyes occasionally appeared nearby, filled with malice, greed, and an unsettling strangeness.

The hunters expected certain death, but after running for a while, they realized the wolves seemed disinclined to attack them; they were merely driving them out of the woods.

When the hunters finally burst out of the forest, they were covered in wounds and utterly exhausted. They abandoned the pursuit of Zoya and retreated to the village… After the black mastiff Lauren left, the blizzard still raged, but no heavenly lightning struck the village again. Thus, the villagers believed it was because the demon had been expelled, yet no one celebrated, for all the members of Zoya’s family and their dogs had perished without a trace…

At this point, Andrei took another deep drag from his cigarette and exhaled a long plume of smoke.

Daxiong had always been the one who loved stories the most. He hastily fanned away the choking smoke in front of his nose and asked, “That’s it? What happened next? What about Zoya? Did the black mastiff die…?”

I felt speechless at his last question because we had just seen that black mastiff; clearly, it had not died.

Andrei remained silent for a moment, sighing as if lost in deep memory.

I turned to look at Liang Qian; she seemed captivated by the tragic story, frowning as she stared at Andrei.

And someone had, at some point, lit a cigarette and was standing in the shadows behind the door, arms crossed, his expression indiscernible.

Then Andrei continued, “About half a year later, that old fellow Rabilovitch, only forty at the time, took over as village chief and led everyone in rebuilding their homes. People gradually forgot about that incident, until… until one day, a girl of fifteen or sixteen appeared at the village entrance, accompanied by a black mastiff.”

“The people quickly recognized the girl as the one who had disappeared years ago, Zoya. And they also recognized that the black mastiff accompanying her was the very same one that had brought disaster upon them.”

The villagers remembered their relatives lost in the fire, so the arrival of the mastiff caused panic. They immediately pulled out their hunting rifles, intent on killing it. It was only under the girl’s fierce protection that they refrained from firing.

The girl shielded the barking Lauren while explaining that the mastiff was her savior. But no matter how much she pleaded, it was useless. Finally, the girl entered the village alone, while the black mastiff, seemingly understanding the ill will directed toward it, did not follow, wisely retreating to linger on the steppes.

The girl sought out that old fellow Rabilovitch and confessed that she had secretly kept Lauren. She explained that when the house caught fire, her parents had both been choked unconscious by the smoke, and she was no exception. It was Lauren who had dragged her into the cellar, saving her life. Therefore, Lauren had saved her, and although the mastiff was severely injured, it had cared for her meticulously in the forest, finding food for her daily. Because her lungs had been scalded by the thick smoke during the fire, she required six months to recover enough to move. Without Lauren during that time, she would surely have died. Thus, the villagers should not shun him.

Rabilovitch, though stubborn, was a reasonable man. Hearing such an account, he was deeply moved. However, he also knew that in the hearts of the villagers, Lauren had already become synonymous with misfortune, and acceptance seemed impossible, no matter what.

At this, Andrei sighed again.

I finally understood why he had wanted to establish education in the village back then. It was precisely ignorance that had led to the villagers’ foolishness. This once-glorious people had devolved to such a state.