The Winter Horses Read Online Free PDF

leaving soon. After they’re gone, things will get back to normal. I promise. It’ll be you and me and the animals, just like it was before.”
    The day after this, things were even quieter, but still Max did not go to the stables to saddle Molnija for the captain.
    “He can saddle his own horse from now on,” he told the dog. “I’ll have nothing more to do with the Germans. Not if I can help it. I don’t care what they do to me.”
    Taras wagged his tail as if he agreed with his master and went outside, for there was a new and interesting smell in the air. After a while, Max thought he might take a walk outside, too. On other days, he might have remarked upon the beauty of the reserve, but now all he could see was how harsh and unrelenting life could be. The sun bounced off the snow and dried his lips until they cracked and felt like the skin on his feet, while even the hairs in his ears froze solid in the icy wind.
    Inevitably, his footsteps led him to the part of the steppe where he had seen the two SS motorcycles hunting down the horses.
    About halfway there, he decided he would cut off the tails and bury them, since he knew he could not have mustered the strength to bury the horses themselves. But when he arrived at the scene, he found the bodies of thehorses were gone, and the only things there to remind him of the terrible event he had witnessed were several circles of bloodstained snow.
    “Where have they gone?” he murmured. “I don’t understand. If there were any wolves about, they’d have eaten them here, surely. But there’s not so much as a shinbone left.”
    Max was still wondering what had happened to the corpses of the dead horses when Taras lifted his muzzle into the air and barked loudly.
    “What is it, boy?” asked Max, and sniffed the air. “Smell something different, do you?” He raised his face into the bora wind and sniffed again; only very gradually did his nose catch what Taras’s keener sense had detected: it was the smell of fresh meat being cooked.
    Almost immediately, Max guessed the true fate of the dead Przewalski’s horses: the Germans had taken them back to the kitchens in the big house so that they might eat the meat for dinner. The worst part of it was that the smell was succulent and delicious and opened up a hole in Max’s stomach as he suddenly realized just how hungry he was. It had been quite a while since he had eaten meat. Game was always thin on the ground in winter.
    Max swallowed uncomfortably and stared at Taras.
    “Well, go and get some grub if you want,” he told the dog. “I shan’t stand in your way or even blame you. There are some who say that horse meat is very tasty, but I shan’t ever eat it myself. I don’t think I could swallowthe stuff even if I wanted to. I tell you, dog, it would stick in my throat and choke me.”
    A little to the old man’s relief, Taras stayed put and then followed him back to the humble cottage. They were still en route when Captain Grenzmann overtook them on the back of Molnija.
    “Good morning, Max,” he said. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?”
    “I’ve seen better.”
    Max kept on walking, and with a quick, expert squeeze of his legs, Grenzmann urged Molnija a few paces ahead, then turned the stallion in front of the old man and his dog so that they were obliged to stop.
    “Max, hold up there,” said Captain Grenzmann. “Wait a minute, please. Where are you going?”
    “Home,” said Max dully.
    “Yes, of course.” Grenzmann jumped down off the horse and then drew the reins over his head. “Well, stay a minute, please. If you will.”
    “Say your piece,” grunted Max.
    “I’ve missed you this last couple of mornings. In the stables. We both have.” Grenzmann patted the horse’s flanks. “Haven’t we, boy? I was never much of a groom, you know. I’ve almost forgotten what you’re supposed to do. It’s not the same without you there.”
    “Well, there’s no great mystery about that,” said Max.