Anima Vita

Chapter 3

«Luka,» his voice snapped, sharp as a whip crack. «Enough. No need for empty fairy tales.»

Damon shifted his heavy gaze to me.

«Anna, in one hour — evening patrol and feed distribution. Be at the main shed.»

Luka’s words and Damon’s sharp reaction worked like a chemical reaction. Something clicked inside me. It wasn’t just a secret — it was his secret. And his desire to hide it made it a thousand times more alluring. My heart beat faster, but no longer from fear — from excitement.

«Meditation?» I immediately seized on Luka’s words, spurred on by Damon’s reaction. «By the stream? That sounds amazing.» I couldn’t contain my curiosity. «Luka, I actually have a free hour. Could you show me?»

Luka’s face lit up, but the vet immediately cast a quick, wary glance at the door. Damon took a step forward, and his shadow fell across the threshold, as if barring the way.

«Anna, that is no place for… beginners’ meditations,» he said, his voice lowering, filling not just with warning, but with restrained tension. «The trail is difficult. Dangerous in parts. And it is not part of your duties.»

But Luka, caught up in my enthusiasm and clearly wanting to needle his colleague, couldn’t help himself.

«Oh, Damon, don’t be so dramatic! The trail is actually quite picturesque. Margaret used to spend hours there, said the ’silence truly speaks’ there. And the stream really is special — the water is so clear, as if it glows from within. And the stones are all so smooth…»

He lowered his voice, pretending to share a great secret:

«They say if you make a wish at the largest boulder, where the silver moss grows, it will definitely come true. Provided, of course, the forest accepts you.»

«Luka.» His name wasn’t a gunshot, but a low, ominous rumble before a storm. Damon stepped across the threshold, seeming to swallow all the free space, the light, the air. He positioned himself between us, cutting Luka off from me, and his green eyes turned flat and dead, like ice over deep water.

Suddenly, the room felt airless. Not from fear — from the awareness of his power. This was what he was like when truly provoked. Not just stern, but primal, elemental. And damn it, it was both terrifying and incredibly sexy. I felt goosebumps run down my spine.

«You are not a tour guide here. Your lab reports are overdue. And you,» he turned to me, his gaze sharp as a blade, «will busy yourself with the feeding schedule. The documents are in the library on the desk. Everything else — not now. And certainly not at your whim.»

He spoke as if I weren’t a person, but a disobedient mechanism in need of repair. And I stared at his clenched jaw, thinking how much I wanted to erase that expression of absolute, unshakeable control from his face.

His tone left no room for discussion. Luka sighed, theatrically raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, but the corners of his eyes still hid sparks of defiance.

Suddenly, from outside, from the roof, came a loud, insistent cawing. Corbin, it seemed, hadn’t flown far. He cawed again and again, rhythmically, as if mocking the scene.

Damon drew a sharp breath, his jaw tightening. Irritation radiated from him in waves.

«The schedule. The library. In one hour — at the shed. Clear?» He stared directly at me, demanding not consent, but unconditional obedience. The air in the room grew thick, electrified by this silent standoff.

«Aye, aye, Captain!» I straightened up, feigning exaggerated military bearing. «Order accepted for strict execution, Mister Keeper!» I saluted with two fingers to my temple.

Luka snorted, but immediately coughed into his fist, seeing a short, dangerous flash ignite in Damon’s eyes.

Damon only narrowed his eyes. My stunt hadn’t amused him — he saw in it not submission, but another act of defiance, a mockery of his authority.

«Good,» he clipped, and the short word landed like a trap snapping shut. Turning on his heel, he walked out, slamming the door roughly with such force that not only the windows rattled, but the instruments on Luka’s desk, too. A moment later, his choked, furious shout, directed at the raven, came from outside: «Corbin, out of the way!» A loud flurry of wingbeats and heavy, rapid footsteps crunching over gravel followed.

I stood, listening as his footsteps faded. The door was still vibrating. «Wow,» I breathed out at last, feeling my knees go weak. «You’ve really done it now, Annie. In way over your head.» But there was no regret in it. There was a wild, exultant thrill. He had lost his composure. Because of me. And now between us there wasn’t just a wall of misunderstanding, but a crack, one you could peer into. And I definitely would.

Luka exhaled, taking off his glasses and wiping them on the hem of his coat.

«Phew. Our fearsome guardian of order is in fine form today. Please, don’t be offended by him, Annie. He’s just… overly serious about everything connected to Margaret and this place. The forest, that stream… for him, it’s not a recreational area. Too many… strange things have happened there.»

He walked to the window, made sure Damon was out of sight, and turned to me. A mix of puzzlement and genuine curiosity was frozen on his face.

«But here’s what’s interesting… You lit up at the mention of the forest. Usually, people back down after a dressing-down like that from Damon. Or get scared. But you — it’s like you’re deliberately courting trouble. Why?» The young man was waiting not just for an answer, but for a key to me.

«I’m just very curious,» I shrugged again, but my voice sounded quiet and serious. «Luka, what kind of strange things were you talking about exactly?»

Luka bit his lip, casting another glance at the door. He was clearly torn between a desire to finally share and caution in the face of Damon’s anger.

«Strange things…» he began carefully, lowering his voice almost to a whisper and moving closer. «Well, for example, the way the animals here behave. You saw Corbin. He’s not just smart. He… understands the essence of things. Brings exactly what holds meaning for the person it’s intended for.»

«And Lyra… she’s not just a lynx. She somehow… senses the essence. Intentions. Illness. Anxiety. Once, she wouldn’t leave the side of an enclosure with a young deer for three days, even though it looked absolutely healthy. On the fourth day, it developed sepsis from a hidden infection. We made it in time. She warned us when we still saw nothing.»

Luka walked over to the desk and picked up that very dark-blue pebble.

«And this… stones like these are only found at that stream. Badgers bring them; they’re found in tree roots after a storm. And they’re always warm. Just slightly. Regardless of whether they’re lying in the sun or the shade. Try it.»

He handed me the pebble. It was incredibly smooth, as if polished over a thousand years, and from its surface emanated a barely perceptible, constant, living warmth — like the body of a sleeping animal, not a stone. The heat was inside, not outside.

«Damon believes you can’t go there. That Margaret was… maintaining something in balance there. And that it’s now his responsibility. But I… I’m a scientist. I’m curious. But I’m also a bit unnerved. Because sometimes, during a full moon or before a big storm, sounds come from there… Not animal sounds. More like… the echo of a distant crystalline ringing. Or a whisper in a language you don’t know, but for some reason, you feel.»

He shuddered, as if coming to, and hastily returned the pebble to the windowsill.

«So. Now you know everything I do, and please, not a word to Damon. He already thinks I’m a frivolous upstart.»

«Deal,» I gave a conspiratorial wink. «I need to head back to the house and sort out those papers, but I really hope we can soon have… tea, to celebrate a wonderful acquaintance.»

Luka broke into a wide, radiant smile.

«That would be wonderful!» he exclaimed, but immediately muffled his voice and glanced around. «I happen to have a new herbal blend, very soothing. Or coffee, if you prefer. I live in the little house by the greenhouse. Drop by some evening, when our guardian of order is out on his night patrol.»

He gave a friendly nod, and I caught a genuine joy in his gaze — at having found an ally in curiosity here.

Chapter 4

Leaving the laboratory, I headed toward the house. On the way, I noticed Damon. The keeper stood with his back to me by the far enclosure, intently writing something in a notebook. His posture was tense, coiled, like a predator frozen before a leap. He didn’t turn around, but seemed to feel my gaze on him: his back grew even straighter, and his shoulders turned to stone.

The library turned out to be a spacious room with a high ceiling. Entering its cool twilight, steeped in silence, I found that on the huge oak desk there indeed lay a folder with the schedule. A heavy candelabra stood beside it, and on the desk surface, as if deliberately left for a guest, lay an open, worn book with a bookmark. Margaret’s diary. The air here smelled not just of old books, but of a faint, bitterish aroma of lavender and wormwood. Dried bundles hung by the fireplace, like talismans.

On the open page, the handwriting was nervous, hurried:

«Corbin brought a shard of mirror today. It reflected not my face, but the lights deep within the Threshold. They are growing brighter. The silence beyond the Arch hums like a taut string. Burrow warned me, but I must hold the line. D. helps, but he does not believe. He only serves. To believe, one must see. Or hear the Whisper. I fear for him. For all…»

Below followed several lines, meticulously crossed out with black, furious strokes, over which was written, large and clear, as if carved with a knife:

«DO NOT GO TO THE ARCH ALONE.»

As I was reading into these lines, trying to make out even a single word beneath the ink blots, from outside, in the blue of the approaching evening, came a soft rustle of wings. Silently, Corbin landed on the oak windowsill of the library. He did not caw, merely tapped his beak against the glass — once, distinctly. This time, there was nothing in his beak. He looked at me, then slowly, almost solemnly, turned his head toward the forest — toward where, according to Luka, the stream lay — and stared at me again with his black, bottomless eye. There was no threat in it. There was patient expectation and knowing. Then he cawed — a solitary, clear sound that sliced through the silence of the room — and dissolved into the deepening dusk.

At that moment, from deep within the house, as if in answer to that sound, came heavy, inexorable footsteps. Damon had returned. A moment later, his voice, muffled by distance but distinct, carried from the front hall:

«Fifteen minutes, at the shed. Bring a lantern. Don’t be late.»

Making a mental note to return to the diary, I left the house and found Damon in a small shed next to the kitchen porch. The space was crammed with sacks of feed, buckets, tools, and smelled thickly of grain, dried herbs, and leather. He stood with his back to the door, silently arranging something into metal bowls.

I froze on the threshold, letting my eyes adjust to the twilight. And again — that back of his. That very one. Now, in the faint light filtering through a dusty window, it seemed even more massive. He moved in that cramped space with the grace of a large beast in its den.

He didn’t turn at the sound of footsteps, but his movements became slightly sharper, more precise, as if he had felt my presence through his skin.

«Have you studied the schedule?» he asked, still not looking at me, as if conducting a conversation with empty space.

He arranged the bowls into an impeccable row on a wide wooden bench. In each lay different food: fresh cuts of meat, special pellets, a mix of grain and chopped vegetables.

«This is for the predators: Lyra, Oswald the fox. This is for the raccoons and the badger. This is for the birds and rodents from the greenhouse. We deliver to the points. My half — left side of the territory. Yours — right side, around the house and the greenhouse. Any questions?»

At last, the keeper turned around. In the yellow light of the single bulb, his face looked tired, but composed. His gaze fell on me, skimmed over my work clothes, paused appraisingly on my boots, and stopped at my face. There was no trace of the former icy wall in his eyes, but there was a dense, impenetrable seriousness in them, like a man carrying something very heavy on his shoulders.

He handed me two lanterns: one a regular electric one, the other old-fashioned, kerosene, with green glass.

«The electric one — for the route. This one,» he pointed to the kerosene lantern, «is for the raccoons. They adore it. They turn it on and off like a toy. Don’t let them break it.»

In his tone, when he spoke of the raccoons, a shadow of restrained tenderness flickered, then immediately receded, as if he were ashamed of this weakness.

«Let’s begin. I’ll walk you through the points the first time.»

Damon picked up his bowls and stepped out into the descending blue twilight. The air had turned prickly with night dampness, smelling of decayed leaves and distant woodsmoke. The first stars were appearing in the sky.

As I followed him to the first point — a little house for the raccoons — he suddenly, without slowing his pace, threw over his shoulder:

«The library. You were there. You saw the diary.» It wasn’t a question, but a heavy, flat statement. He was waiting for my reaction.

«I was,» I confirmed shortly, matching his pace.

He stopped abruptly, his broad back becoming a motionless block against the darkening forest. Then he set the bowl on the ground by the enclosure entrance and, at last, turned to face me. In the yellow light of the lantern, his face seemed carved from dark wood, and in the depths of his eyes smoldered two tiny points of reflected flame.

«Margaret was… not of this world,» he said at last, and his voice, usually so steady, cracked, exposing something raw and painful. «She saw through things. And knew things she shouldn’t have known. What she wrote… it’s not delirium. Those are warnings.»

He fell silent, listening to the rustles inside the little house, from which impatient snuffling and the clatter of claws already sounded.

«She didn’t leave this here by accident. She wanted someone… to see. Or to take up the burden. I guard the grounds. I keep order. But her work… her knowledge…» He ran a palm hard over his face, smearing the lines of weariness and pain in the darkness. «That’s a different depth. And a different danger. Luka is right to talk about the strange things. But he doesn’t see the whole picture. He marvels at wonders. I, on the other hand, have seen… the cost.»

He looked straight at me, and in that moment, his gaze was stripped of all its usual severity. There was raw, defenseless warning in it — almost a plea.

«That’s why I say — don’t go into the forest. Especially there. It’s not just a place of power. It’s… a Threshold. And it’s not always closed.»

I met his gaze, in which there was nothing but truth. And fear for me. I stood before him, clutching the lanterns in my hands, and understood that I had lost. Not to him. To myself. Because now, after he had shown me this hidden side of himself, I could no longer look at him as an obstacle or a pretty toy. He had become real. Complex, wounded, carrying someone else’s burden.

At that moment, a curious little face with a silvery mask poked out of the little house. The raccoon, completely ignoring Damon, headed straight for me and, sitting back on its hind legs, stared at the kerosene lantern, making clicking sounds of impatience.

Damon, as if waking from a heavy sleep, nodded at the bowl.

«Time. Put it down. But step back right away. They’ll beg for more, but the portion is law. And…» he paused, and his voice grew quieter, but clearer, «thank you for not denying it about the diary.»

He said it with unexpected, stark directness, before turning and disappearing into the darkness toward his own points. His figure dissolved into the night, but the weight of his words remained hanging in the cool air, mingling with the rustle of leaves and the greedy crunching of the raccoons tucking into their supper.

I crouched down in front of the enclosure, setting the lantern beside me.

«Hello, little bandits!» I said quietly, so as not to startle them. «I’m Annie. I’ll be feeding you now… well, if that grouch…» I nodded in the direction Damon had disappeared, «won’t object to my methods.»

There were two raccoons. They froze for a second, ceasing to chew, and stared at me with their shiny little eyes. Their silvery «masks» made the expressions on their faces incredibly vivid. One, slightly bolder, crept cautiously closer, stretched out his wet nose, and noisily, busily sniffed the air. The other stayed by the bowl, but his gaze, too, never left me.

The bold raccoon, it seemed, had delivered a verdict of «not dangerous.» He let out a short, satisfied chatter and suddenly reached a little paw not toward the food, but toward the lace of my boot, gently tugging at it, as if testing the quality of the weave. The second one, emboldened, came over and, sitting back on his hind legs, began to diligently «wash» his face, glancing at me through his fingers — a classic raccoon gesture that could mean anything from nervousness to the highest degree of interest.

They were clearly reacting to my voice and calm posture. Neither one even tried to snatch the bowl or show aggression. They behaved more like inquisitive, slightly thieving, but overall friendly children.

At that moment, from around the corner of the greenhouse, Luka appeared. He was carrying some kind of cardboard box, but, seeing me sitting on the ground surrounded by raccoons, he stopped dead in his tracks, and his face broke into a wide, radiant smile.

«Well, would you look at that — you’ve already been accepted into the gang!» he laughed quietly, so as not to frighten the little animals. «Meet Rascal (he nodded at the one tugging the lace) and Scratcher (that was the one ’washing’). Our chief troublemakers and inspectors of new equipment. Careful — Rascal is likely assessing right now whether he can untie that lace and add it to his treasury.»

Setting the box on the ground and crouching down at a distance, the vet watched this silent scene of introduction with obvious pleasure.

«Damon, of course, is a grouch. But he’s right about the main thing: no joking around with the forest path. I’m glad you didn’t run off after his growling. So, you’re here for the long haul?»

As I chatted with Luka and the raccoons, I noticed in the darkness, at the very edge of the forest beyond the greenhouse, two faintly glowing points. Yellow, dim, like smoldering coals. Those were eyes. Not an owl’s or a fox’s. They were too low to the ground and watched too intently and knowingly, without blinking.

«Luka,» I called quietly, not taking my eyes off them. «Look. There’s someone there.»

A moment later, I made out a heavy, squat figure melded with the shadow at the very edge of the trees. The creature didn’t move, didn’t breathe. It simply was — a hard, dark clot of night, observing. Then, without making a sound, without a twitch, it turned smoothly and, silently, with dignity, walked off into the forest, dissolving into the black gap between the trunks. Its appearance and disappearance were so deliberate, filled with some ancient ritual, that goosebumps ran down my spine.

«Ah, that’s him,» Luka said quietly, following my gaze. «Don’t be afraid. That’s Burrow.»

«Who?» I turned to him, still feeling the chill on my skin.

«An old badger. Wild. Not from our enclosures. He lives deep inside, but here, at the edge, he has… a watch.» Luka spoke with an uncharacteristic seriousness and reverence, without a shadow of a smile. «Margaret used to say he’s older than everyone here. A guardian. If he came out and showed himself — it’s not without reason. It means he’s seen you. Or the forest is looking through him.»

I peered into the darkness again, but there was nothing there now except impenetrable night gloom. The feeling didn’t leave me: I had just been assessed by someone ancient, utterly other, not bound by our laws.

«And does he often… appear like that?» I asked, turning back to the raccoons, who seemed not to have noticed the badger’s appearance at all.

«Always with new ones,» Luka nodded. «But he never comes out to the house itself just out of idle curiosity. That means you’ve caught his attention. It’s a good sign. Though… yeah, a bit creepy.»

He paused, and then, as if catching himself, added in his usual, more cheerful tone:

«But don’t even think of feeding him or trying to pet him. He’s not a pet. He’s… a judge. He decides himself whether to approach or not. Usually — not.»

I nodded, still under the impression. The feeling of that gaze — heavy, measuring — still clung to me like dew.

«Rascal and Scratcher,» I repeated affectionately, leaning toward the raccoons to distract myself. «Very pleased to meet you.»

I gave them their allotted portions and stayed to watch them eat. Rascal and Scratcher enthusiastically fell upon the bowls. Scratcher, more methodical, periodically set aside the tastiest morsel, «rinsed» it in imaginary water, and then ate it. Rascal devoured everything in sight, but in the process managed to come over and poke my knee with his wet nose, as if to say: «More!» or «Thank you.»

Luka, observing this scene, smiled.

«They’re both rescues. Margaret picked them up by the road, still blind little fluffballs. She said they had ’a spark of human mischief’ in their eyes. And, it seems, she was right.» He stood up. «I’ve got to go — experiments with vitamin supplements await. But remember about tea! My door is always open.»

He left, abandoning me with the raccoons and the rising hum of the night. When the bowls were empty, Rascal and Scratcher didn’t scatter. They sat down next to me, almost touching me with their sides, and began a thorough toilet: licking their paws, washing, casting contented glances my way. They had clearly decided that I was now part of their evening ritual.

Suddenly, both raccoons froze in unison, as if on command. Their ears stood up, their noses quivered, catching an unfamiliar smell or sound. They were looking not at me, but toward the forest, where Burrow had disappeared. Even their relaxed playfulness had evaporated in an instant, replaced by a deep, primal wariness.