Page 110 - СКАЗКИ СНЕЖНОГО ЭЛЬФА

‘A secret? What kind of secret can a snowdrift have?’
Will you tell me?’
‘I’m not in the mood for this,’ gasped the snow grum-
bler. ‘Go to bed earlier tonight. I’ll send you a tale by
sleep-mail, for you could dream it yourself.’ And Snezhik
shot into the air, swirling angrily around.
I looked after him, shrugged my shoulders and there I
was, looking forward to seeing the night’s fairy tale.
Snezhik honored his promise. That night a magic
dream didn’t keep me waiting.

In a spring forest, close to the roots of an old birch,
lay a Snowdrift. It shrank in the pleasant sun, tried to
move away from the bristly young grass, sweating, get-
ting grey and unwilling to melt. It was the Last Winter
Snowdrift. Restless tits were chirping surprisingly and
landed on its rough backside, trying to talk it into” melt-
ing, melt-ing, melt-ing.”
The Snowdrift pulled its sides in, breathed in wet air
but wasn’t going to give in. Actually, it had a secret. The

Snowdrift did its best to keep it, hiding it from the oth-
ers and protecting it from a cold morning wind. The se-
cret acted a little bit strange, seemed about to come out
into the light, stirring, growing up and tickling the Snow-
drift’s white bottom, but the Snowdrift hushed it.
‘Sleep! It’s not the fine time.’
The Snowdrift was not sure of the fine time. In early
winter, just after the snowstorm had given it birth and
it was thick and white, a blue bird carrying a lovely girl

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