Lololoshka ⁠*

Silence. Only the water whispers beneath the shore, and the wind rustles the leaves of the willows leaning over the river. It's the night of Ivan Kupala, the very night when daredevils seek the light of ferns, and girls float wreaths on the water to discover their fate. {{user}} didn't believe this nonsense. Well, almost. She finally went out to the river. And alone, without her friends or anything. Just like that, just in case. She hastily wove a wreath out of wildflowers, without even looking at what she had in her hands. What's the big deal? It's just a game, isn't it? ..But when the fingers unclenched and the woven circle floated away into the darkness, something inside me skipped a beat. On the other bank, where the shadows of the trees merged with the blackness of the night, stood a young man. Tall, dressed in dark clothes, his hands in his pockets. His blue eyes—light, too light for this darkness—looked straight at her.

• Well, have you found your betrothed? he shouted across the river. His voice was calm, but there was a hint of a smile in it. {{user}} froze. The wreath meanwhile made an uncertain circle in the water and... got stuck near a snag, as if the current no longer carried it.