While trying to climb the previously unconquered ridge of a mountain in Spain, mountaineer Igor Nasyrov slipped and fell down a steep slope. Stunned by the sharp impact on the ice, Igor slowly regained consciousness. His head was buzzing, his whole body ached, but fortunately he did not feel any serious fractures. There was complete silence all around, broken only by the rustling of the wind in the dwarf pines clinging to the slopes of the valley. They were an almost perfect circle about two kilometers in diameter, surrounded by walls so steep they seemed to go straight up into the sky. The sun was already setting, breaking through the narrow gap between the rocks, and coloring the valley in dark purples and violets.
The snow on which Igor landed was unexpectedly loose, like fluff. This surprised him, for up above was a dense, compacted layer. The valley was a different picture: soft, deep, and completely white snow covered the bottom, with dark thawed patches only in some places. The air was unusually cool and clear, smelling of pine needles and something sweet, an unfamiliar aroma that was both herbal and honey.
Igor looked around. In the center of the valley ran a small stream with crystal clear water with a faint blue tint. The banks of the brook were free of snow, and they were covered with unusual bright blue flowers with petals that looked like the wings of exotic butterflies. They exuded the same sweet scent that had been present since Igor's unfortunate landing here. There were also bushes with dark green leaves near the stream, and beyond them a small lake with water that seemed completely black, as if oily.
The feeling of isolation here was weighing on Igor. He realized that he was trapped in a strange and completely enclosed world. Climbing up the icy slopes was madness, and he could see no other way out of the valley. His only hope was to find something to help him survive here: food, drinkable water, and temporary shelter.
The mountaineer started down to the creek, treading gingerly in the deep snow. His boots were slipping, and he felt the chill of the snow on his feet. By the creek Igor found some flat stones, from which he managed to build himself a kind of temporary shelter from the night cold. Gathering some dry grass and twigs, Igor built a small fire, using moss found on the skinny trunk of one of the dwarf pines as rubbing material. The fire burned with difficulty, warming his frozen hands and warding off the rapidly advancing darkness of the night.
As the fire crackled, Igor began to reflect on his situation. He was an experienced climber, but no amount of professionalism could have prepared him for such a situation. Suddenly he saw that the flowers growing near the stream were glowing in the darkness with a soft purple light. It was as incredible as everything else that was happening in this mysterious valley. Realizing that a difficult survival in an isolated world awaited him, however, Igor did not feel the despair that had gripped him at first. Now, by the fire, watching the glowing colors and looking at the dark lake, he felt a strange calmness. Though the unknown lay ahead of him, he was ready to face it.
In the morning Igor was awakened by birdsong, melodious and unfamiliar. The sun was shining through the leaves of unknown trees, casting a golden light over the valley. Yesterday's gloom had been softened by this idyll, but the sense of the trials to come had not disappeared. Peering out of his makeshift shelter, the climber saw a settlement, or a small town, hidden behind powerful rocks from the outside world. The houses seemed carved into the rocks, and some were built of light gray stone and harmonized amazingly with the surrounding nature. The roofs were so lushly covered with greenery that it seemed as if the city was an extension of the pine forest itself.
To his surprise, Igor saw people quietly going about their business: women tilling the land on terraces cut into the mountainside, and men crafting something from wood or metal. There were even children playing among the houses, dressed in simple clothes of coarse cloth. The faces of all the inhabitants radiated an unusual calmness and goodwill, unlike what Igor had expected to see in people living in such seemingly harsh conditions.
One of the men noticed Igor and approached. He was of medium height, had kind eyes and gray hair tied back in a bundle. Dressed in rough but quality linen, the man spoke in an incomprehensible language, only from his gestures Igor realized that he was inviting him to follow him. The mountaineer did not know what to expect from all this, but followed the man, who led him to a spacious and unexpectedly cozy house carved into the rock. It was very clean inside, Igor noticed a stone table, a hearth, several wooden benches and shelves with pottery. In the corner stood a chest full of woven goods. As Igor realized later, it was the elder of the settlement, who, thanks to sign language, offered him food: unknown but tasty fruits, aromatic bread and something similar to a milk drink.
After the meal, through gestures and drawings on the sand, Igor learned the history of this mysterious city. Its inhabitants called themselves "Stone People", and were descendants of those who hid from the cruel king Raven, who ruled in the neighboring valley. Many generations ago, an earthquake had struck here, which had been both their salvation and their curse. It cut them off from the world, but protected them from their pursuers while isolating them from the rest of the people. The Stone People lived well, cultivating the land and utilizing the resources the valley gave them. They still had a written language from their ancestors, based on symbols they carved in stone, and their own religion based on the forces of nature. They managed to create a self-sufficient civilization, and coexisted remarkably harmoniously with their environment. Whereas war and cruelty reigned in the outside world, peace and tranquility reigned in this valley.
The elder, whose name was Bautiste, showed Igor a vault of ancient symbols scratched into stone slabs. Here was recorded the history of the people, knowledge of medicinal herbs, their view of the world, even how to make unusually strong metal alloys. Igor realized that this was not just a refuge for fugitives, but a unique civilization that had preserved the knowledge and traditions their ancestors had acquired in the outside world. His amazement was replaced by admiration for the wisdom and fortitude of people who had managed to survive in complete isolation and preserve their culture. But now he was faced with an equally difficult question: should he tell the world about this civilization, which would surely put it in danger?
But the most unexpected surprise awaited Igor at the end of his conversation with Elder Bautista, when it was discovered that all the inhabitants of the settlement were blind, which was not at all noticeable at first. Isolated from the rest of the world, the community had thrived for generations, despite a disease that had struck the inhabitants early in their existence, resulting in the sudden blindness of all newborns.
The news of the inhabitants' blindness shook Igor to the core. Only now he took a closer look at his surroundings: rows of neatly placed clay pots, stunted but fruit-bearing trees, and perfectly paved streets did not suggest that the city's inhabitants were blind. Everything spoke about the opposite: about order, thoughtfulness and organization of work. How was it possible that a blind society could reach such a level of development? Elder Bautist sensed Igor's confusion and smiled, his deeply wrinkled face expressing confidence and calmness. He gripped the roughly carved cane that served as his support.
- It's a long story," Bautiste began, his voice low and quiet. - The disease that struck the first settlers of the valley was terrible. It took away the sight of all newborns. Their sighted parents thought it was the end and that the settlement was doomed to extinction. But they were wrong.
Bautiste told the guest that the community had gradually adapted to the new reality by developing a sophisticated orientation system based on touch and sound. Growing up blind, the children learned to understand that each street had a unique sound, like the sound of the wind in one particular place or the rhythm of water dripping from stone gutters. Houses were built with these sound references in mind with carefully selected materials. Smooth stone was used for walls and soft wood for doors: anything that could help blind people navigate their homes in any way. Special tools were developed to enable the blind to do various jobs, such as working the land or making pottery.
Special attention began to be paid to education. From an early age, children were taught to use hearing, touch, taste and smell. They were taught to recognize objects by touch, to determine distance by echo and to catch the subtle nuances of smells. Music played a huge role in their lives, being not only an art, but also a means of communication with each other. The system of society was based on collective responsibility and mutual assistance. Each inhabitant of the community fulfilled his role, had his specialization, and, working together, everyone helped each other. There was no competition, only mutual understanding and universal harmony.
Igor realized that the tragedy in this isolated settlement had given its inhabitants an amazing example of survival and adaptation. They were not broken by blindness, forcing them to develop senses that sighted people can only dream of. They created their own world, completely different from the one they had known before.
After the death of the last sighted inhabitant, years and centuries passed, which became an era of unprecedented development of extraordinary senses among the inhabitants of the valley. The world, first perceived through the prism of color and light, later revealed itself to them through a complex symphony of smells, sounds, subtle vibrations in the air, and sensory perception through the skin. The once chaotically scattered village was transformed into a well-organized city. Houses were built close together to form a kind of labyrinth, punctuated by a network of narrow streets carefully marked with different materials: soft moss, rough wood, or smooth stone. Each drop in elevation and turn was clear to any inhabitant by the barely perceptible distinguishing features under their hands and feet.
The system of getting around the city was based on a complex system of different signals. By tapping special sticks on stones, people recognized houses, streets and public places. Children were taught this language from an early age, their incredibly sensitive fingers recognizing the tiniest vibrations transmitted to them through the ground by adults. Elders and tradition keepers, with their unique hearing, could detect the slightest changes in the sound palette and could sense the approach of an animal, the direction of the wind or the approach of rain.
Agriculture underwent a special revolution. The degree of ripeness of the fruit was determined by touching it, and the condition of the soil was studied in the same way. Newly developed varieties of plants had bright scents, which made it easy to recognize different species. Hunting became a real skill, where the key role was played by the sense of smell and hearing. The rustling of leaves, the sound of prey footsteps, the slight smell of blood indicated the location of animals to hunters, who, in turn, had to adapt to the new world by developing more acute senses.
People exchanged information by constantly touching each other, developing a whole series of signs. Gentle strokes meant support, strong ones warned of danger. Stories were communicated in the same way, not only through words but also through touch, creating a unique culture accessible only to those who could understand it. As music proved to be devoid of visual images, theater culture reached an incredible level of expressiveness. On the basis of extraordinary emotions, sounds and rhythms created pictures, weaving complex patterns inaccessible to the sighted.
Thus, all art developed in new forms. Sculptures were created from clay, stone and wood and became the main form of fine art. Characterized by their relief surfaces, variety of textures and temperature of the material, they created incredible pictures, understandable only to those who communicated with the world by means of touch. There were even "singing sculptures" made of stones and metal that produced unique sounds when touched, tapped or interacted with the wind.
Based on sensory experience, a philosophy was born that was devoid of the illusions that sight brings, making the understanding of the world more multifaceted and profound. The inhabitants of the Valley of the Blind realized that their disability was not a handicap, but an opportunity to develop more subtle senses that allowed them to experience the depths of being more fully and deeply. Their development was evidence that human capabilities can be limitless and that their adaptability is the key to thriving and surviving in any environment. They proved that not only the eyes can know the world, but also the heart.
Igor, squinting against the diffused, dim light that penetrated through the sparse crown of dwarf trees, listened to Elder Bautista's story and looked around the city. The low houses pressed tightly together resembled sleeping animals sheltering from the weather. The strangest and most unusual was the absence of windows. Instead of the expected panes of glass, only smooth, polished stone surfaces were visible. The paths winding between the houses were lined with neatly hewn stones, forming a labyrinth in which an unfamiliar traveler could easily get lost. The air was filled with silence, disturbed only by the rustle of leaves and the faint rustle of what sounded like the whispering of many voices.
The mountaineer took a cautious step and felt the hardness of the rock beneath his feet. The silence was frighteningly unusual, without the usual echoes of everyday life. There were no cries of children, barking dogs, or adults talking. Only this rustling, to which Igor listened, trying to understand its nature. Whether it was the wind playing in the leaves of the pine trees surrounding the settlement, there was something... different about the whisper, as if it were an incomprehensible language, felt only by the skin, like a vibration of the air.
He walked slowly along one of the paths, feeling his footsteps echoing off the stone walls of the houses, making the feeling of isolation and privacy even stronger. Soon he saw people moving slowly along the paths. They walked, sometimes stopping and groping the walls of the houses with their hands, but their faces were devoid of the usual human expression, unnaturally calm, as if they were in a state of contemplation of something inside them.
Igor suddenly remembered the proverb "In the land of the blind and the one-eyed man is king" and realized that it was a bitter right and not just an ironic remark. In this world of the blind, his eyesight, indeed, gave him great superiority. But this thought was quickly replaced by deep sympathy. These people deprived of the gift of sight had created their own, marvelous and harmonious world where touch and sound replaced their sight. He approached one man, and he immediately stopped, turned his head toward Igor, sensing his movement, and held out his hand, as if wanting to feel the space around him. Igor stopped, not knowing what to do next. He could have asserted his superiority by using his advantage, but something stopped him.
Instead, he slowly extended his hand to the man, who gingerly touched his fingers, studying them in his own way. Then he took his guest by the hand and led him down the path, as if inviting Igor into his world, built on special sensations, on a different perception of reality, unfamiliar to aliens. Igor realized that his kingdom should mean not power but understanding, not domination but help, that true wealth lay in the ability to see the world with the heart, not with the eyes. The whispers around him no longer seemed frightening to him, but mesmerized him like beautiful music beyond the reach of ordinary hearing.
Igor decided that he could try to teach the blind people, if not rule them like a king, but the villagers had no concept of sight, and they didn't understand his attempts to explain to them how this fifth sense worked. He began waving his arms, trying to represent the moon, the sun, and the stars. His gestures were expressive, broad, but to the people of the Valley of the Blind they were just a disorderly dance. These people had lived here in isolation for generations and had never seen the light of day. Their world was a world of smells, sounds, touches, and thermal sensations. It seemed to Igor that he had come here with good intentions, albeit by chance, but he felt increasingly powerless.
He tried to explain to them first what color was:
- 'Imagine,' he said, 'that red means the heat of fire and blue means the cold of icy water.
But his metaphors were incomprehensible to the blind people of the valley. They knew what heat and cold were, but they had never associated these sensations with such an abstract concept as color. Then Igor tried to explain vision as a sensation of light. He lit a candle and began to slowly move it in front of the face of one of the residents, trying to let him feel how the lightness and intensity of the perception of heat changed. The man tried to touch the flame with his finger, but jerked his hand away, crying out in pain. "It's the heat," he only whispered, for the sensation was familiar to him, "the intense, burning heat.
For Igor, this was the ultimate failure. He realized that his attempts were wrong, that he would not be able to explain sight to the blind through analogies with other senses. Sight is not simply an amplification of sensation; it is an entirely different system of perception, and to those who have never experienced it, it is incomprehensible. His "reign" over the blind collapsed because it was based on an illusion of superiority.
Then Igor decided to change his strategy and instead of teaching the blind to see, he began to learn from them. Being sighted, he wanted to learn how to navigate in the city by sounds, to determine distance by echo, to feel the slightest fluctuations in the air and to distinguish elusive odors. Caught by chance in this world, the mountaineer realized that their lives, though devoid of light, were rich and multifaceted. Their senses, heightened to an incredible degree, compensated for their lack of sight. Igor learned to understand a language new to him, based on sensations and sounds, gradually becoming part of their society, but not as a ruler, but as a full-fledged resident of the city. He realized that his sight, as the fifth sense he wanted to explain to them, was not an indicator of superiority, but another way of perceiving the world, unique and beautiful, like those senses possessed by the inhabitants of the Valley of the Blind.
Still a little disappointed, Igor could not find a place to go, but the people of the Valley of the Blind reassured him, and he reluctantly accepted their way of life and customs, because returning to his world still seemed impossible to him. He was assigned to work alongside a resident named Jaime, as work was the primary duty of every member of the community. Jaime was old, with a face riddled with deep wrinkles like a map of the mountainous terrain and eyes the color of molten tin. But he proved to be an experienced farmer. He owned a plot of land hidden in the hills surrounding the Valley of the Blind, an oasis in the stony desert. Accustomed to the comfort and hustle and bustle of the city, Igor felt awkward at first, unskilled with a hoe and not understanding the intricacies of watering. His hands were accustomed only to the computer keyboard and ached from the unusual load, his back ached, and the merciless sun quickly dried his skin.
But Jaime was patient with him. He slowly taught Igor how to loosen the soil, how to determine the moisture content of the soil, how not to damage the roots of plants, and how to recognize the first signs of disease in seedlings. He shared his knowledge with him as if he were passing on an ancient sacred heritage, whispering about the properties of each plant, the secrets of the earth's fertility and how to merge with nature, becoming an integral part of it. Igor, at first not paying attention to all the instructions, gradually began to realize the wisdom of the old man. The work soothed his soul, displacing the habits of his former life. He could feel the tension fading away, leaving room for calm and satisfaction with the results of his labor.
They spent their evenings talking around the fire. Igor and Jaime were joined by others from the Valley of the Blind. Deprived of sight and with acute hearing, they had an incredible ability to perceive the world through sensation. Many told Igor legends of their ancestors, of the secrets of their Valley, of how they had adapted to life here without sight or light. Their voices were so soft and calm, and their stories so amazing, that Igor's imagination painted him incredibly vivid pictures, even though he had never seen anything they told him.
Igor learned about the miraculous properties of herbs that cured any illness, about the underground lakes and rivers that fed this land, about the strange sounds that sometimes came from the depths of the Valley and were music for the blind. Once he heard them himself, and they seemed to Igor unusually mysterious and a little frightening. Gradually the boy began to see the world through the eyes of the inhabitants of the Valley and to feel it differently. He learned to orient himself by smells and sounds, to feel the ground without looking under his feet, and it began to seem to him that sight was not such a necessary sense. He had even learned to recognize plants by touch, as Jaime had done.
Sometimes, in the silence of the night, when the wind whispered among the rocks, Igor remembered his former life, a world of bright colors and limitless possibilities. But these memories, to his surprise, were dim, like old photographs faded by time. He suddenly realized that the Valley of the Blind had become his second home, and Jaime his friend and teacher. Returning to his old world used to be his only goal, but now it had taken on a completely different meaning. Igor no longer longed to leave this place. He liked to live in harmony with himself and nature in a world devoid of light for its inhabitants, but for him full of other wonderful sensations.
Igor was attracted to Jaime's youngest daughter, Abal. The young people soon fell in love, and after gaining her trust, Igor cautiously decided to try to explain the vision to her. Abal, however, simply dismissed it as fiction. They sat on a low stone ledge buried in the greenery of the garden, Igor nervously rubbing the edge of his shirt. Abal, bent over working the rough fabric, seemed the embodiment of carefree youth. The girl's slender fingers, nimble and quick, moved easily over the canvas, softening the edge of the tunic. Igor tried to find the right words to begin his explanation.
- Remember, Abal, when we were walking in the woods and you said you felt a squirrel jumping from branch to branch? I saw it, you know? But, uh. I thought I saw something else. It was a soft light, as if shining around her, almost weightless, so subtle was it. Is that exactly what it feels like to you? Is it not just a squirrel to you, but part of something bigger?
Abal smiled without taking her eyes off her work.
- Igor, you've heard too many of Jaime's old stories. His stories about "the shining within us" or "the singing of soul strings" sound like fairy tales. When I feel a squirrel, the sound of leaves or the warmth of the sun, that's exactly what I feel, that's all. There is no "glow" that I notice.
Her voice was calm, but Igor caught a slight impatience in it. He realized that Abal not only did not believe, but was beginning to tire of his lover's insistence. Then Igor tried to change tactics.
- Abal, imagine if you could feel the flowers, their shape, smell their fragrance. But imagine also if you could "see"... sorry, feel their life energy flowing through the petals? Feel them absorb the sun's heat and turn it into beauty?
Abal laid the cloth on her lap and laughed.
- Igor, but it's only a metaphor. A beautiful metaphor, but a metaphor. I know that there are complex processes in plants, but we don't feel any "energy flows".
He looked into her eyes, and there was impatience and even some sympathy. Igor sighed, realizing that the direct explanation didn't work. He needed a different approach to her.
- Abal, remember when we were listening to the birds singing? You said you heard their songs and something else. a vibration that permeated the whole forest. You explained that for you it was the resonance of life, the harmony of all things.
Igor stood up and walked over to a rose bush that was growing nearby.
- Touch this rose. How do you feel its beauty? I see it with my eyes: its beauty, its connection to the whole world expressed in energy exchange, the invisible threads that connect it to the other plants, to heaven and earth.
He turned back to Abal and put a hand on her shoulder.
- Trust me, it's not fiction. You just can't see it the way I see it.
He remained silent, looking into her eyes, hoping that now she would understand at least a spark of what he was trying to explain to her. But there was only confusion and impatience in the girl's eyes.
Abal was silent, her face, on which a smile usually shone, was now frozen in a mask of incomprehension, pain and fear. Igor was desperate. The blind elders, led by Bautista, sat in a circle on the sun-whitened stones, talking quietly, their voices merging into an indistinct chorus. They had grown fearful of Igor and his strange obsession with explaining something they did not understand, his eagerness to show them another world they had never known or imagined. The settlement's doctor, Baldomer, a fat man with yellow whites of his eyes, stood beside the elders, stroking his long robe. He was preparing to announce the Council's verdict to Igor with great responsibility. Abal heard his words, and they cut into her heart like blunt knives.
- His eyes are congested," he muttered, pointing a thick finger at Igor, "a healthy, full-bodied person can't feel like this! His brain is in constant tension, if we don't intervene, he will lose his mind!
Igor held himself back with an incredible effort, but suddenly he laughed, his shrill laughter breaking the silence of the village. Fear caused that laughter to turn into sobs, tears streaming down his cheeks as he fell to his knees in front of Abal, his shoulders shaking with sobs.
- Abal, do you believe them? Do you believe those blind butchers? - Igor exhaled, his voice hoarse with pain.
But Abal did not answer, her desperate gaze was blank. She loved Igor, but her fear of the unknown, of what the elders and the doctor had instilled in her, literally paralyzed her. Suddenly the niece of one of the elders, Liana, a young woman known in the city for her independence and courage, emerged from the crowd. Her voice trembled, but still expressed judgment. She shouted:
- Stop it! Igor isn't sick! He's just different. He feels the world differently than we do. Is that a crime? Isn't that a reason to take away his eyes, and therefore his soul?
Her words cut through the tense silence and hung in the air. The elders whispered, and their confidence began to fade. Liana's voice gained strength, and she continued:
- I know that Igor tried to help our people. He healed with herbs as Jaime taught him, he found lost animals. He says he has "sight", well, that's his gift, not his disease! And Abal...she has the right to love whoever she wants!
A tense silence hung in the air again. Suddenly, Abal awoke from her stupor, walked up to Igor, took his hand, and her gaze, full of determination and love, met his.
- No, I won't let you get hurt," she whispered, her voice low but firm and confident.
A few of the young men supported Liana and Abal, their support, though small in number, was palpable. The doctor realized that his power was crumbling, stepped back, his face pale. The elders were also silent. Igor's fate was still uncertain, but in the silence, filled with hope, there flashed a spark of rebellion, of the freedom in which this community, frozen in its established ideas, was so accustomed to live.
Dawn had barely painted the peaks of the mountains a soft pink when Igor, dressed in pants and a thin shirt, quietly crept out of his hut. The morning air caused him to shiver, throwing a cold freshness into his face. He hadn't brought any water or food with him, he didn't even have a stick when he decided to leave the Valley of the Blind. His only guide was the belief that life beyond the mountains still awaited him, that he would be able to free himself from the darkness of mistrust and misunderstanding.
At first he walked with uncertain steps, every stone under his feet threatening to surprise him: for too long he had been held back by the certainty that there was no way out of here. Igor's eyes, accustomed to semi-darkness, could see, but could hardly distinguish the outlines of surrounding objects in the barely emerging morning light. He walked along a barely visible path, hidden by a thicket of thorns that clung to his clothes and scratched his skin. But Igor felt no pain, for the acute thirst for freedom drowned out all other sensations.
The climb was even steeper and more grueling than Igor had expected, as he fell, clung to the rocks with all his might, but persevered. His once trained fingers of an experienced climber helped him climb higher and higher. Now time had lost its meaning. Igor moved by instinct, driven only by the desire to get beyond this depressing valley.
By noon the sun was almost at its zenith, and the heat was unbearable. His throat was dry and his tongue stuck to his palate. Leaning against a rock, Igor tried to catch his breath. In his thoughts he thought of Abal, her voice, her face, her gentle hands. These thoughts took away his strength to continue the journey, but he imagined how he would return for her, take her to his world, how they would find happiness together outside these dark mountains.
As the sun was beginning to set, Igor came across a small cave. It was dark and damp, but it was at least some shelter from the night's cold and wind. He spent the night in this cave, shivering from the damp and suffering from hunger. His whole body ached from the heavy climb, but his spirit was not broken.
Igor continued his ascent the next morning. In the distance he heard the sound of water and, hoping to find the source, he went to the sound, seeing a small stream coming down from the mountains. Only after Igor drank the water did he feel life returning to his exhausted body.
Soon the traveler saw his long-awaited goal-a narrow passage between the mountains, overgrown with impenetrable shrubbery, but a passage nonetheless. A light seeped through it, different from the dim light of the valley. With renewed strength Igor crawled towards it, sensing the long-awaited freedom. He crept through the passage, and before him was a view of a wide expanse of sunlit terrain. His escape had succeeded, and Igor was free.
At that moment, the ground shook under Igor's feet, and a low rumbling sound like the roar of an awakening beast was heard, which grew with every second. The crevice into which he had just crawled, at first barely noticeable, turned into a gaping abyss before his eyes, until rocks the size of a man's head began to fall from it. The collapse raised the dust that obscured the sun, and the already gloomy light below turned an eerie scarlet. Igor heard screams coming from the valley, muffled by the distance. It was pure terror, genuine and piercing, like the moans of a dying man.
The descent was a little easier, and amidst the nightmare that shook the earth, Igor returned to the Valley of the Blind and sought out Abal. Clutching her hand, he ran without looking back. His heart was pounding in his chest like a mad woodpecker, but fear for his beloved and his own life muffled the horror around him. Abal trusted him blindly, for she had no choice but to perish with her compatriots. She ran beside Igor, her incredibly fragile hand in his palm seemed to him like a priceless treasure. He could feel her tension and fear, her silent despair, which was transmitted to him through every trembling muscle.
After the earthquake, a landslide roared down the valley with a force capable of sweeping mountains from the face of the earth. The rocky ground rose and fell, trees broke, disappearing under the torrent of rubble and mud like matchsticks in a hurricane. Desperately holding Abal's hand, Igor waded through the chaos, his whole body hitting the rocks, his clothes torn, but they held on, trying not to lose each other.
Behind them was a swath of destruction, like the trail of a giant snake. A few minutes ago, the houses that had seemed quiet shelters had become ruins, covered with rocks and earth. The sounds of screams and groans were drowned out by the rumble of the collapse, but in Igor's ears they sounded like the deep vibration of the earth, penetrating to the very core of his being.
They made it up from the valley to the top just barely alive. Igor stopped and looked back only when the landslide was no longer moving, leaving the edge of its destruction only a few meters from them. Falling exhausted, Abal lay at his feet, dead pale but alive. Igor put his arms around the girl, pulling her against him as tightly as he could, feeling the faint beating of her heart beneath his hand. Waking up, Abal cried, but not from pain and horror, but from the realization that they were miraculously alive. She whispered her lover's name, he barely heard her voice, but it was filled with endless love and gratitude. Igor realized that in this hellish element she had lost not only her home, but her entire past life. But he had saved Abal, and that was the most important thing. Now they were facing an unknown destiny, which they were ready to meet together, holding hands. They were like two sprouts breaking through the ground after a terrifying collapse.