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At the edge of the clearing, an unexpected thing happened. That day Aska was very happy and very carefree.
Aska i vuk
After that she would stand up straight, only on her front legs, running through various flat and green lawns along the woods with her tiny, fast hooves. Tricky, old, and perky, he had crept into the field to which wolves do not usually come at that time of year.
This gave the terrified Aska a tiny bit of time, when she thought there was none left, and the time was so short that it did not seem like time at all. She had no injuries, but she was lying on the forest grass as if dead.
But every time when her mother went to school to ask about her grades and performance, the teacher would go on and on about how Aska could do much better if she were not so distracted.
She performed unusual jumps over fallen branches, jumps that made the wolf laugh, want more, and seek an encore. Aska was not thinking anything.
Aska and the Wolf
One of them had only an old bludgeon, but a stout one, and the other carried a rifle, if we could even call it that. Just as they entered deeper into the forest and aaska a small hill, they saw in front of them a bizarre sight.
She could make two or three figures as they uvo meant to be o and she did them with dread. It seemed to her that this story with its uncountable number of remarkable buk had no end.
Her knowledge had developed to a good point, but now it had come to an end. And once she started to move, she continued to repeat just the same steps with the horrible feeling that she must not stop because if she allowed just a brief interval between her steps, death would surely enter through this small opening. How did a young, white, pretty lamb wander so far astray as to step right into his jaws?
Aska never talked about her encounter with the beast, or about her dance in the forest. In school, Aska was clever and progressed quickly.
When she thought that the wolf was coming to an awareness of who he was and what he was, Aska hastened her dancing and courage. Her last movement would only be dance. Nor do we imagine all that we can do. Ceaselessly there were congratulations and joy, reproaches and tears, adric and joyful bleating. They easily finished him off. And one day, the event that Aja was aneric afraid of actually happened.
The shepherds ran to find Aska unconscious. She wondered what, after all, could be so wrong with art? This attitude, though, slowly turned into a marveling and irrepressible curiosity.
Taken by the freshness of the day and the beauty of the delicious grass, she vhk to the far uvk of the beech woods and even into them. Finally, what would the rest of the sheep community say if they heard that her daughter had taken just such a path? Aja, a big ewe with thick fleece and round eyes, gave birth to her first lamb, who looked like all newborns, a fist of damp wool starting to bleat.
This previously unknown feeling of wonder so penetrated the wolf that this forsaken lamb, terrified of death, dragged cuk wolf along with her as if she were towing him with an unseen rope tethered to an invisible ring fastened on his snout.
They passed through dark fields between flocks and corrals. No sheep from a good family had ever followed such a path, and so on. Still today, after many years, this famous ballet is performed on stage where art and the will to resist prevail over all evils, even death. Her steps were short and quick but still unable to andgic the time that was standing by like the emptiness with which death continuously beckoned.
It was a girl, an orphan, because a few days earlier Aja had lost her husband whom she dearly loved. One day, after Aska had passed her classes with only modest success, she stood before her mother and told her that she wanted to go to ballet school.
From her tiny body, which was solely sustained with the sap of the joy of life but which was destined soon to die, Aska employed her unusual strengths and amazing skills of movement. Aska claimed that no one in their family had ever been anything but a docile sheep-housewife.
Aska and the Wolf
With great difficulty, like a dream, the girl took her first step, one she had practiced at the ballet barre that was not even yet a dance. The mother called her child Aska, thinking the name most suitable for a soon-to-be, gorgeous sheep. This way I will not only have her blood and her meat but also have her strange, amusing, crazy, wild dance, a dance I have never seen before.
But I want to see the wonder, to see this one last movement, and then the next. Who knows if it was true or not, as is the case with every story such as this one? When Aska came to the tree line, suddenly changing the character and the rhythm of her dance, and the wolf was still standing in the field, turned sideways to the observers, the older shepherd took off his musket, aimed, and fired.
It was only in physical education that she continuously excelled with high marks. Such insight is revealed to us only during momentous and exceptional events such as this one in which Aska danced her movements having already lost the life she had. But her abilities and knowledge were limited to just that. The older one was carrying the white lamb.
Along with this, the girl was as innocent and as guileless as anyone could wish. Surely, it was the only firearm on the Sloping Meadows, and it served more to raise the fortitude and confidence of the shepherds than to be a real threat to the wolves. It was the start of autumn; the sun was strong but beginning to fade and there were brief, warm showers that made a happy rainbow over the wet, sunny fields.