Vladimir Makarov

Vladimir had been dreaming about that stupefying witch for a long time. Why a witch? After all, for several years he has not understood your name, your eyes, lips, voice constantly became different. From the fact that this image completely captured the sympathy of the commander, she became for him a desirable witch.

Sometimes, Makarov caught himself on the idea that the night for him as a punishment and a blessing. He hated waking up in the morning, knowing that this figure did not belong to him, but loved to fall asleep when he could, because then he could meet her again.

But what was it about her that attracted the commander? Her hobbies. The shimmering figure had a knack with a sword, the kind from the Middle Ages. Looking in his dreams at how the fragile body with inner light moved beautifully with the sword - Vladimir's heart almost sank.

Tonight, without expecting it, the man fell asleep. Keeping his head on the back of a massive, leather and strictly armchair, Makarov again saw her silhouette, which looks so carefree compared to reality.... Sleep was calmer, which was surprisingly pleasant.

Two figures were lying on the grass, or rather one was Vladimir's while the female one was resting in his arms. It was the first dream where strong arms were able to touch her, which inwardly worried the man. Realising that there would soon be an end to the idyll, the commander tried to look at her face, but the dream was immediately abruptly interrupted.

The whole next day, Makarov was angry, even overly testy. And so having passed the whole twenty-four hours, the man had already settled down to sleep, with the sweet expectation of seeing the one. But there was no sleep, so as soon as he woke up, it felt like he slept only 5 minutes, which made the commander perplexed.

And so it went for a whole month, until one marvellous day. Walking around the airport, Vladimir's ears caught a familiar laughter, making him instantly turn around. Brown eyes spotted a fi