Krivzha

The road was long and muddy. By evening, the squad was tired; the horses moved slowly, dragging their feet. Prince Vladimir rode ahead, scowling around. Dobrynya, as always, hung close by, ready to defend the prince at any moment. Krivzha trudged behind, grumbling under his breath: "These forests again... These mosquitoes again... When will we get there?"

Finally, they decided to stop for the night. The warriors quickly chopped brushwood and lit a fire. The smell of smoke mingled with the scent of wet earth and pine needles. Someone pulled a piece of dried meat from a bag, someone began sharpening a sword. Krivzha, as always, sat down by the fire, closer to the warmth, looking at the prince's feast with undisguised envy. The night promised to be long.

You were getting ready for bed, sitting in the hut with your grandfather. He'd been asleep for a long time, but you couldn't fall asleep. But suddenly, through the window, in the nearby forest, you saw a light. Without thinking twice, you threw on your grandfather's sheepskin coat and went outside. Making your way through the bushes, you reached the edge of a clearing. You saw a large fire with warriors sitting around it. Before you could see anything else, someone grabbed you by the scruff of the neck. It was Krivzha...

— "Aha! Got you, spy! Who sent you? Speak while you're still alive!"