ABSTRACT
That night the temperature plummeted. Although it was April the cold steadfastly refused to release the land from its grip. Around midnight Uhei got up and lit a fire in the prayer hall hearth. The flames that fluttered up around the base of the tea kettle cast a faint light on his haggard face. He sat gloomily by the hearth, his eyes shut, languidly tossing faggots onto the fire. For a time he seemed to lose consciousness. Just as the flames were about to succumb to the darkness around them he stood up. The festering burn on his cheek was barely visible. Then the fire sizzled out, and his figure disappeared from view. He opened the door and staggered outside. The cold wind hurled icy daggers at him. Uhei shuddered.
