Trafika Europe 13 - Russian Ballet

The Last Magog

and vanish in the sea of grass. No, I am simply feeling pity for the sun, and for the sky, which for a moment became obscured by the black cloud, and I bravely direct my arrow into the threat that hangs above me in my imagination. The arrow flies far and I am unable to locate it. And the cloud disperses. Nishkni absolutely loved observing the ants. Nishkni was my friend – my only friend. Together, we would go to visit the ancient sanctuary in the Red burial mound. The old square temple had sunk deeply into the top of the huge, swollen burial mound. To climb to the sanctuary was no easy matter – the wooden steps had become completely slick. No one had served in the sanctuary for many years. Generally speaking, no one had ever served in any sanctuary in all of Magog. They say that services had been conducted at some point in olden times. But then the Great Spirit Karakirdik manifested himself to the shamans in the guise of black smoke and declared that services would no longer be required, better let them prepare for the Battle to come. The shamans announced that they would certainly not be doing the fighting; they’d much rather continue performing the rites. Then the Great Spirit, after a moment of consideration, torched one of the shamans into a mound of ashes, after which the rest of them readily agreed to soldier side by side with their brethren. In all of Magog, there are numerous sanctuaries, and they are all ancient. Only no one attends them. There is no need for it. For when an occasion to offer up prayers arises,

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