Wolves

 
      Hunger and other hardships had, after all, to a certain extent, numbed us. We were like some kind of hungry wild beasts stalking prey, whatever it might happen to be.

      One day , the little boys found found a dead magpie, and since they ran into me, they kindly gave it to me. The boys figured that it could be made into something like chiken soup. I plucked out the feathers, and put the magpie into a pot. I boiled and boiled it, but the result couldn't be called a proper soup. The bird remained tough.

       I guess i was just as sad as the time when my mother ran to tell me that a Russian women had slaughtred her dog, and was supposedly selling the meat fairly cheaply. I ran there quikly, but the meat had already been sold, so that i wasn't able to enjoy a "delicious roast".