The carriage rolled gently over the snow-covered road, its wheels leaving soft trails behind. Snow began to fall as the carriage moved through the quiet countryside. The trees stood still, their bare branches wearing coats of frost. The streets of the town they passed were calm and still. Wooden houses stood in neat rows, their windows glowing warmly from inside, casting golden light into the cold dusk. Smoke curled up from chimneys, disappearing into the sky like forgotten dreams.
The road ahead was covered in snow, glowing faintly under the pale light of the moon. Daisy sat close to Mila, her hands wrapped tightly in her cloak. The air was cold, but it wasn't just the winter that made her shiver.
Time passed slowly as the carriage moved onward. Daisy and Mila finally reached a distant village — far from the noise of the city. It was a quiet place, wrapped in silence and snow, where time itself seemed to rest.
Mila left Daisy in the care of an elderly woman who lived at the edge of the village.
She was well past sixty, her silver hair tied in a loose bun, and her eyes filled with years of untold stories. She lived alone in a small wooden cottage. Her only son had gone missing when he was just a child, and since then, silence had been her only companion. Daisy didn't want to stay there.
She clung to Mila's cloak, her eyes begging, but Mila had no other choice. The place where she lived — it was too dangerous for Daisy. So, with a heavy heart, Mila left her in the quiet safety of the old woman's home, whispering a promise as she turned away:
"I'll come back for you, Daisy. I swear." Mila said softly, her voice trembling in the cold air.
"Now… it's time to say goodbye." Mila left with quiet steps, placing her trust in the old woman.
She didn't look back—
Because if she did, she might not have had the strength to leave Daisy behind. The people of the village were warm-hearted and kind. Just a short walk from the old woman's cottage, there lived a couple whose home always smelled of fresh bread and burning firewood. In only a few days, they had grown fond of Daisy — treating her as if she were their own. Their smiles were soft, their voices gentle, and for the first time in a long while… Daisy began to feel relax.
Daisy's health had started to improve. Vera Sokolova cared for her deeply — like a grandmother. Though Daisy often refused to eat, lost in thoughts and silence, the woman would scold her gently and make her finish every bite.
It wasn't just food she gave her — it was love, warmth, and a reason to heal. A woman well over sixty, yet she managed all the household chores on her own.
After losing her son, she had changed — become quieter, more distant. She rarely spoke to anyone in the village, keeping to herself like a shadow that no one dared to approach. Despite everything, Vera often reminded Daisy to take care of her health. But after a few days, Daisy's stubborn heart made a wish of its own — she longed to see Mimiya again.
But Mila Golubev couldn't always come. She had to go on many missions, chasing shadows and hunting creatures in the dark. Though, in between, she managed to visit Daisy a few times.
Daisy has slowly adjusted to the new surroundings.
Yet, her heart still aches for her family. Sometimes, thoughts of Peter creep in, leaving her lost in quiet sadness. It's a feeling she can't quite explain. As the snowstorm softened into a hush, Daisy wrapped herself in her wool shawl and stepped outside. The world was cloaked in white, the trees bowing gently under the weight of snow. A narrow, winding path led from the old cottage to a frozen river that shimmered faintly under the pale winter sun. She followed it in silence, her boots crunching softly against the icy ground. The cold kissed her cheeks, but she welcomed it—it made her feel alive.
Daisy stepped outside as the evening light softened the snowy village in a gentle silver hue. As always, she wore her favorite scarf—a soft, blue one that wrapped gently around her neck, the ends fluttering slightly in the cold breeze. Her long skirt, a lovely shade of grey with delicate embroidery along the hem, swayed with each step she took.
Daisy stepped outside as the evening light softened the snowy village in a gentle silver hue. As always, she wore her favorite scarf—a soft, blue one that wrapped gently around her neck, the ends fluttering slightly in the cold breeze. Her long skirt, a lovely shade of grey with delicate embroidery along the hem, swayed with each step she took.
The air was crisp, and a light snowfall had begun again, tiny flakes drifting down like whispered secrets from the sky. The world looked peaceful—quiet, as if holding its breath. Daisy pulled the scarf a little tighter and walked slowly down the path, her eyes catching the way the snow dusted the rooftops and trees like powdered sugar.
As the fabric slipped away, her long, thick, reddish hair fell free, cascading down her back like a wave of fire against the pale evening snow. The cold wind touched Daisy's face, making her cheeks turn red.
She pulled her hands into her sleeves and looked around. Snowflakes fell slowly from the sky.
And just then, Daisy suddenly saw something fly above her head.
She looked up quickly, her eyes wide with surprise.
It moved too fast to see clearly — like a shadow cutting through the pale sky.
Her heart skipped a beat. Was it a bird? Or something else?
Just then, Daisy heard a terrible sound. She froze, her scarf slipping from her hand.
"Oh God… what was that?
She ran quickly toward the house, her heart pounding in her chest. In her hurry, she left her scarf behind, forgotten on the snowy path. She hurried inside and quickly slammed the door shut behind her.
Vera Sokolova immediately understood—Daisy had seen something that terrified her deeply. She didn't ask Daisy any questions. Instead, she stepped outside quietly, drawn by a strange noise she had heard.
Daisy ran into her room and collapsed onto the bed.
Today, everything felt different — unfamiliar and strange. She couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something wasn't right.
Why did everything seem so odd? Her heart raced, but she couldn't understand why. Daisy heard many footsteps entering the house.
They had brought in a boy. His face was hidden beneath a long black cloak. He wasn't moving — unconscious and silent. The air grew heavy with mystery as Daisy watched from the shadows, her heart pounding with questions she dared not voice.
They laid the boy down on the bed.
Daisy couldn't understand why an unknown boy was brought into this room.
Vera Sokolova seemed to lose herself for a moment.
She stared at the boy and whispered,
"This… this must be my lost son."
She ran to Daisy and said urgently, "God has heard my prayers, Daisy.
"Ivan… my Ivan… he has come back to me."
Daisy was surprised, but she said nothing.
From a distance, Daisy saw a very handsome young man lying on the bed. Daisy had never seen such a handsome young man before.
His face was like a perfect painting — sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and smooth skin that seemed to glow even in the dim light. His lips were full and soft, with just a hint of a smile resting on them, making him look both mysterious and gentle at the same time. Every feature was perfectly balanced, as if sculpted by an artist who knew exactly how to capture beauty and strength in one face.