After crossing two ridges, it had not actually traveled far. They might even have been two spurs of the same mountain.
In this vast wilderness where snow fell in winter, resources were limited. The available prey was nowhere near enough to sustain a snake twenty feet long. Black Snake had to make up for it with sheer numbers, and going hungry now and then was inevitable.
Black Snake had never known that, even during the hardest years of famine, it could always endure hunger better than other beasts.
A faint, inexplicable vitality had always surged secretly through its blood.
The energy that sustained its unnatural journeys through wind and snow had long since surpassed what flesh and blood could supply.
Black Snake firmly believed that only a massive body could withstand anything. Every molt, every increase in size, meant one more chance to stay alive.
The weather was pleasantly warm.
Low-growing plants raced to bloom in every color before the treetops closed over and blocked the sunlight.
Tender leaves changed from their initial pale yellow to emerald green, unfurling.
Black Snake roamed and hunted, repeating the same routine every day. It did not know what hardship meant, because survival was not a burden.
It slithered all the way down from the ridge.
It discovered a river that was not particularly wide. The wind along its banks carried a distinctive fishy smell.
Large stretches of sediment along the riverbank were as fine as powder, without a stone in sight. Weeds grew unchecked, thick enough to conceal it completely. It could smell plenty of plump frogs and wild mice, and birds roosted here too. This bountiful place had drawn many snakes.
A good place, though the smell of grass was too strong.
Black Snake decided to stay in the riverside meadow until the rainy season arrived, then return to Giant Rock in the valley.
That rain-laden breath soaking heaven and earth was a delight it would never willingly miss.
Other snakes had to creep close to ambush frogs, while Black Snake relied on its speed to strike. It caught prey quickly and digested it quickly too.
It was less efficient at catching wild mice than ordinary snakes, because Black Snake was now too large to crawl into burrows.
Here, it began a life of hunting that repeated day after day.
One day.
It slowly slithered past stark white bones in the grass, left the meadow, and pressed over dead branches that floodwaters had washed into heaps and soaked pale. Crossing a pebble beach warmed by the midday sun, it came to the river to drink.
There were a few bubbles in the water by the bank. It did not taste as good as mountain spring water.
As usual, it tested the water with its tongue before sipping.
Not far away, crows gathered in a flock, and a rotten smell hung in the air.
Black Snake ignored them indifferently.
After drinking, it began studying the river. This was a bend where the current ran gently. Freshwater mussels slowly plowed trails through the fine sand in the shallows. Schools of small fish sucked at the mud on stones near the bank, and a little deeper, a large fish hovered.
Driven by its desire to fill its belly, its massive body slipped soundlessly into the river, twisting slowly toward its target.
Unsurprisingly, it failed. Just before it entered lethal striking range, the large fish flicked its tail fin sharply, stirred up a cloud of muddy sand, and darted away.
Black Snake was not disappointed. Failed hunts were normal. It only regretted the energy it had spent.
Fortunately, Black Snake now knew how to think. It suspected that its body had grown too large, and the hunting methods it had always relied on were gradually becoming obsolete.
Sneaking close was useless. It thought a sudden strike would still work, but it would have to launch it from farther away. It changed its strategy and kept trying.
After several failures.
At last, Black Snake bit into a fish, and a crimson mist of blood spread through the water.
It patiently waited for the violent struggling to subside into stillness, then adjusted the angle and swallowed rhythmically, starting from the head. After eating the meal it had spent so much energy catching, Black Snake temporarily gave up hunting underwater and went ashore to keep catching frogs.
Black Snake understood how to weigh gains against losses. Once it realized that the expenditure exceeded the reward, it decisively abandoned inefficient hunting.
It also keenly noticed that although the water's surface seemed suitably warm, it was very cold just a little deeper down. Its muscles stiffened and its reactions slowed, severely affecting its speed.
The spot where it came ashore was close to the carrion the crows had gathered to peck.
It seemed to glimpse cloth and long black hair.
The crows cawed in harsh, hoarse voices, watching warily as Black Snake slithered away.
A long-legged white bird stood motionless beside a puddle in the meadow, waiting for fish. At the sight of Black Snake, it spread its wings and flew a little farther away, choosing another ditch to continue its vigil.
Only a lumpy, bumpy thing paid no heed to Black Snake's approach, moving along at a leisurely crawl.
It slithered into a dry patch of wormwood and willows to bask in the sun, using its free time to concentrate on sorrow.
Because Black Snake remembered that sorrow could make it grow, it deliberately immersed itself in that unpleasant emotion.
The sunlight was warm, and it fell asleep without realizing it.
Night fell. The mountains turned pitch-black, and stars filled the deep blue sky. The moon was still hidden behind the mountains. Black Snake left the body that lay asleep, wandered through the riverside meadow, and chose a large, smooth stone on the river beach to coil upon. Listening to the insects, it patiently waited to gaze at the moon and breathe.
It turned its gaze toward the rotting corpse the crows had fought over during the day. A blurry shadow paced there, and faint, intermittent sobbing reached it.
Black Snake seriously considered whether to go over and give it a smack. After thinking it through, it decided that would waste energy, so it chose to ignore it.
Crying was actually much the same as insect calls. As long as it did not interfere with gazing at the moon and breathing, that was fine.
A strange scene appeared beside the river in the wilderness: a great black snake held its head high, breathing toward the moon, while a blurry shadow watched over a rotting corpse on the river beach, sobbing...
Black Snake felt that the moon down by the river did not taste as good as it did in the mountains.
After spending a long time by the river, it found the place hard to get used to. The wind always carried a fishy smell, and its tongue caught nothing but the taste of silt and wormwood.
It could no longer remember how many times it had felt the urge to return to the mountains.
The stretch of rainy days should be coming soon, right?
Time always slipped away unnoticed...
Its time gazing at the moon was nearly over when, idly looking around, it suddenly spotted a faint glimmer in the direction of the pitch-black mountains.
It was not the light of an ordinary lamp or fire, but a glow visible only through that dim, gray field of vision.
Strangely, it remained almost fixed in one spot.
The moon hung in the sky, and the eastern horizon had just begun to pale when Black Snake returned to its solid body. Before setting out for home, it would visit that mountain and investigate just what could produce a strange glow like the fox's.
Its massive body wound along, pressing down the green grass drenched in morning dew.
Black Snake moved extremely fast. The impression of that location in its mind was evaporating like a water stain, and it had to reach the strange glow while the memory remained.
Seen from the clouds, a dark trail was being rapidly plowed across the green meadow, winding toward the mountains like a thorn.
At that moment, Black Snake kept recalling the location of the strange glow, over and over.
It was just below the mountainside, between two small ridges.
Along the way, it startled flocks of birds into wild flight. Roe deer stood frozen, while wild boars remained intent on rooting through the soil for tubers.
After it left the meadow, rocks and shrubs appeared, and it had to plan its route carefully.
It reached the foot of the mountain and continued up the slope. Every stretch of the way, it had to lift its head high to check its direction. Yet looking from afar and searching from within were two entirely different things. Simply reaching this general area was already difficult.
That strange glimmer had been as faint as a star to begin with, and the tangled trees made it hard to find.
At last, it reached roughly the right area.
Black Snake felt something like regret. Who knew how many frogs it would have to eat to replenish all the energy it had spent on the journey?
Dense green leaves had already sealed off the mountain. Sunlight passed through layer upon layer of gaps in the foliage, casting several tranquil, slanting beams through the woods.
Large rocks were covered in moss, and woody vines dangled from above.
There were no large living creatures, and its tongue had detected nothing unusual in the air.