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The lake
He learned each year that no one had won in the tournament, the hope in his soul began to melt. He thought: “If all these clever people who live next to me could not invent and make something like that, how can I find strength and skills for this?”
Day after day he looked at the sunset and asked the Sun to send him a small clue: “How should he behave in order to win a match?” His thoughts were sincere and once the Sun responded to him.
Hayat heard a soft and mocking voice in his head: “Why do you, Hayat, complain about your fate? You waste on moaning the strength, that you will not succeed. Go to town on the market square in front of the palace, find out how the competition is going. Listen, what questions are asked. See what the participants are doing.
You have to learn how to swim if you want to swim across the lake but you can run along the shore, everyone knows how to wail and only it will not be of any use to this.” Hayat was frozen from such speech. He realised that if you want something, you have to go towards your dream.
Hayat’s journey to the capital of the Fiery Country
He went to the capital the next day. The capital met Hayat with the beauty of its white palaces, the cool of fountains, the singing of birds. Talkative girls ran through the streets. The smell of flowers was around their inhabitants.
Hayat was walking and thought that once upon a long time ago his country was a scorched desert, the roll-field was the master of this wasteland. Volcanoes in the East flooded the desert with fiery lava so that all living things perished in seconds until the great ancestors had extracted a fiery spark from the mouth of the main volcano of the Phartha volcano and had not enclosed it in a glass vessel.
Since then the fiery and deadly wind has changed into a warm breeze. Flowers blossomed and people began to live in the Fiery Country. Hayat thought: “After all, if each of his great ancestors thought that he would never manage to obtain a fiery spark, the eternal wasteland on the place of the Fiery Country would remain on the map of Azourland.”
There were no participants in the competition this year. Residents stood in the square, waited and went to their homes disappointed. The Ruler Arlat was very sad because for several years none of his subjects could show skill and ingenuity.
In the evenings he looked at a fiery spark that shone like a beacon on the main tower of the palace and hoped that changes would come to his country. The country will sigh, a fiery spirit of creative skill will fly over its inhabitants, which its people have known since ancient times.
Hayat spent several days in the capital. He looked to his relatives, visited his neighbours’ relatives, handed gifts and presents to everyone and went back home.
His mood grew better day by day: after the trip, he became confident that he could realise the dream and not in order to become famous and get the title or be liked by neighbour girls, or brave his glory in the circle of friends. No, now this dream has become his air, his life, his connection with great ancestors with their power and glory. He himself became a dream.
Hayat
Hayat and the bull Oklush
Hayat returned to his usual life. He spent on the shore of the lake evenings and pondered what could be interesting for the inhabitants of his country to see, so that they were pleased and aroused surprise. His imagination painted bright images of fountains, squares, streets, the market square in front of the palace. In his hands, he usually kept a thin twig, which he picked up on the way to the lake. Hayat drove this twig along the wet sand, drew fountains and squares in the sand in his imagination.
A thought often arose in his head: “How nice it would be to draw a colourful drawing from his memories and show it to his neighbours. After all, my grandmother Nairi has never gone outside the village, she did not see the beauty of the capital’s palaces and fountains.”
Smooth waves lapped his drawings from the sand, destroying all his works without a trace.
The stones
One day Hayat looked at the shore of the lake and noticed that there were lots of coloured stones around him. They shone and gleamed in the sun, beckoning with their colours, but no one could solve their mystery. Hayat collected stones and began to consider, they were blazing in blue, green, red, orange and yellow colours.
It’s strange, but in our village, no one uses or somehow apply these multi-coloured stones. Rarely children for the sake of fun throw them into the water, competing, who will throw more when they play into the ‘frog’.
Hayat brought a few stones home. He often took them in his hands and noticed that the stones sometimes leave a colourful dust. If you rub them on clothes, then there were coloured stains on it, which quickly disappeared when they hit the water or crumbled. After some time, Hayat forgot about the stones because he had an occasion with him.
The spring has already come to the fields, it was time to plant a thurba. Thurba is a plant with large juicy fruits, similar to a turnip, from its fruits people in the village bake bread. The seeds of the thurba are tiny, so they are difficult to disperse in the field, in order disperse the seeds correctly and evenly, they are spit out of the mouth along the furrow. In the Hayat’s village, it was an honourable and important work. The seeder collected small slippery seeds in small portions into his mouth and spit them evenly along the arable furrow.
It was impossible to disperse the seeds with the hands because they slipped and woke up. It turned out “somewhere empty, but somewhere densely,” the plants were uneven, the fruits were small and crooked. You will not get a good harvest from such a field.
Hayat took the position of the seeder. The field began to sow, Hayat was doing his job well, but he suddenly stopped, slipped on a wet hummock and flew down to the ground. He did not notice that next to him was the most butted bull of their village, it was Oklush. He was just harnessed to the plow.
Oklush and Hayat
Oklush was a bull with an unrestrained and self-willed temper, but strong and hardy, he worked one for three. So, while Hayat was flying down, he spits out the seeds that he had in his mouth and hit the bull directly into the eye.
Oklush jumped and howled in pain – he broke free and flew to Hayat. Hayat was frightened and ran from the bull, the bull did not stop until he drove Hayat to the tree. Hayat was sitting on a tree and could not get off it. The villagers were running up to the tree, trying to drive away the bull, but it was not possible. Oklush was furious and wanted to take revenge on the offender.
Only when it came dark, the bull managed to drive away from the tree and Hayat could get off it.
The next day the situation repeated, when the bull saw Hayat on the field, he again became furious and ran after him. Again, Hayat spent the whole day on the tree. The plowing stopped because the bull did not stop. All the villagers tried to pacify the bull all day long.
Hayat goes to the road
Hayat returned to his usual life. He carried out on the shore of the lake and he could see what was happening to him. His imagination was painted bright images of fountains, squares, streets, the market square in front of the palace. He usually kept a thin twig in his hands, which he picked up on the way to the lake. Hayat drove this twig along the wet sand, drew fountains and squares in the sand in his imagination.
The village leader decided how to deal with the bull and Hayat, the decision did not take long to wait. A convoy of merchants passed their village, which followed toward the Flying Rocks.
There