Uncomprehending, but curious, I watched and drew Arsylang’s attention to what went on beyond the two rivers and the steppe. He would stare across, prick up his ears, and growl at moving cars. And naturally, as we kept watching, I thought of Brother and Sister and discussed them with my four-legged companion. Whenever he heard their names, Arsylang became restless and whimpered. But if his whimper began to turn into a howl, I jumped in to interrupt and tell him that howling and crying might harm Brother and Sister and thus were not allowed. Then Arsylang obeyed, fell silent, and looked at me with his submissive, pleading eyes. Once, though, I did not interrupt his whimpering—I was unable because I had burst into tears myself. Arsylang immediately joined in with his muffled howling, which in turn only made me cry harder with streams of tears and noisy sobbing. And as happened so often in those days, I could not help but think about why Brother and Sister had to leave home, and for the first time ever I felt hurt by Father, who had wanted it all to be this way.

Father idolized his own father, who had been a baj and in some people’s eyes even a kulak. However, Father called him something different when he wanted to call him anything besides “Father”: a man with a heart for his animals. That name applied to Father himself as well.

What may have moved Father, a man with a heart for his animals, to separate his children from his animals, from the proven roots and sustenance of their lives, just when they had turned old enough to take on some of his tasks and to ease his burden? Was it the salary? People talked about the salary as if it were a little fairy-tale pot that cooked porridge whenever you asked. Or was it rather obedience to the powers-that-be, which supposedly represented the people and certainly were strict? Or perhaps a kind of trust in those powers? Or was it the perceptiveness of the arate, that natural ally of the victorious working class, a class which couldn’t possibly have existed from the start?

I felt guilty after I had cried and I still felt guilty when I woke up the next morning. I had had a dream, and although I could not remember the details, I sensed it had been about Brother and Sister, and I felt something heavy inside me. And then Arsylang, too, seemed to go quiet and move with heaviness. Maybe my mood was indeed affecting him?