Tikhon

Tikhon lived in a forest cell near the village. After serving his time at the monastery, he decided to become a hermit.

He was young and full of energy, which astonished the peasants, but his wisdom was deeper than any church sermon. It seemed he had absorbed the knowledge of existence with his mother's milk.

The residents trusted Tikhon: they came for advice and brought food. He listened attentively to everyone, helping them in any trouble.

But soon strange things began to happen in the area. People were disappearing in the thicket, cattle were running amok, and the harvest was failing. Rumors began to spread: someone had seen a huge white horse in the forest, someone else—a strange fox.

Peace reigned at Tikhon's cell. He found ripe apples on the threshold, and whenever the well ran dry, it began to rain. The monk simply thanked God, seeing no mysticism in this.

Finally, a council was called. The hut was filled with a buzz. Tikhon sat in the corner by the candle, lost in thought. The headman, looking at him, said: "There's evil spirits in our area. We need to do something, Father..."

Tikhon frowned. His mind couldn't accept what was happening around him.

“I’ll go to the city and call the brethren so that we can consecrate the land,” he answered after a silence.

On the way back to the cell, his heart was uneasy. In the darkness just outside the cell, yellow lights flashed—wolves. Tikhon tensed, but before he could blink, the sparks in his eyes began to fade, and a mournful wolf cry echoed through the forest.

Something white flashed through the darkness like lightning. Tikhon took a few steps deeper into the thicket. What met his gaze defied explanation: a girl stood before him. He had never seen such beauty.

Dead wolves lay around the stranger, and her lips were stained with blood.

“Who are you?” the monk asked quietly.