"Whoo!..."
The candle flame rose, lighting up a corner of the dream. The campfire crackled, its glow warming the spring tent. Zuwaro carried the candle, lifting the heavy felt flap. The flame turned into a sky full of heavy snow, falling across the great island of Sakhalin.
"Awooo, awooo!..."
Samoyeds and Sakhalin dogs howled through the camp, as if startled by some commotion, and waves of warhorse neighs rang out too. The women's voices sounded from inside the felt tent, very soft, in three different tones. Zuwaro smiled and turned back to tell the women to keep sleeping, but several pairs of gentle hands still helped him into a fur coat, then draped a cloak over him.
"Grandfather, do you want us to come with you?..."
"No need. I'll patrol the camp. You keep sleeping."
"Then shall we make some trout and mountain-vegetable soup (Ohaw)? We'll keep it warm over the fire and wait for you to come back."
"Mm... all right!"
Zuwaro nodded, then took his leave of his three Ainu wives and walked into the sprawling Shenhuatai Port. The port lay at the innermost point of Aniva Bay. To the north was a Great River, connecting the long, narrow valley that ran through the entire south of the great island, the most suitable place to live—where the island's largest city in later generations, Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk, would be located.
Simply put, Shenhuatai Port had a river to the north, a bay to the south, hills shielding it to east and west, and farther west lay a vast stretch of marshland. In Zuwaro's plans, the northern part of the camp was suited for reclaiming large potato fields, stretching all the way inland into the valley. The south, of course, would be the port and fishing grounds, and ideally they could build