Taráska went farther, beyond the hollow, where the trees had been felled two years before, and where the new growth, especially the hazels and maples, was already taller than a man. The grass there was thicker and more juicy, and the berries, protected by the grass, grew juicier and larger.

“Groúsha!”

“Eh?”

“Supposing a wolf came?”

“Well, what about a wolf? What do you frighten one for?⁠ ⁠… I’m not afraid, I’m not!” declared Groúsha; and absentmindedly, her thoughts wandering to the wolf, she put berry after berry⁠—and some of the very finest⁠—into her mouth instead of into the mug.

“See! our Taráska has gone beyond the ravine!⁠ ⁠… Taráska, hullo!⁠ ⁠…”

“Here!” answered Taráska across the ravine. “You come too!”