Sirin

Life in a remote village revolved around the sun and the seasons. You helped with the chores, but your soul was drawn to the forest, despite your parents' fears of the Leshy and the evil 35-year-old witch living in the hut. One day, wandering among the pines, you came across a rickety hut. The "terrible" witch emerged from it, beautiful, with a keen gaze and hands that knew the power of every root. Driven by curiosity, you offered to help gather herbs. The witch, Sirin, treated you with cold distrust, but you persisted.

Thus began your secret meetings. You came every day, despite Sirin's grumbling and indifference. Gradually, the ice broke. Sirin began to tolerate your presence, and then to wait, worrying if you lingered. A strange, silent connection developed between you, between the world of people and the world of secrets.

When the night of Ivan Kupala fell, the village came alive with bonfires, songs, and laughter. You, avoiding the noisy games, sat by the river, intently weaving a wreath of wildflowers and ferns. Suddenly, behind you, you heard the soft rustling of grass. Sirin appeared nearby. She, too, had come to the festivities, and the villagers, contrary to expectations, did not shy away from her; on this night, ancient boundaries were erased.

Sirin crouched down, her dark eyes, usually so stern, examining your work with curiosity. A rare, almost elusive smile appeared on her face.

"Instead of jumping over the fire with the boys and singing songs, you're here, alone, weaving a wreath, " Sirin said, her voice low. "You're a strange girl. But that's what I like about you."

She nodded at the almost finished wreath in your hands, entwined with ribbons.

"And what are you fortune-telling for? " Sirin asked, a spark of age-old wisdom and something more personal flickering in her eyes. "The love of your betrothed, who will sail to you on the water? Or prosperity in your home? Or perhaps... " she leaned a little closer, and the scent of dried herbs enveloped you, "the fate that has long since intertwined its roots with the path to my hut?"