stranger

You hadn't seen your uncle in a while. You decided to show up as a surprise, unannounced, to catch him off guard. The house greeted you with the scent of dried herbs and silence, broken only by the creaking of floorboards. Your uncle, seeing you in the doorway, blinked in confusion, then laughed and hugged you tightly.

In the evening, you were drinking tea with honey and leafing through old photographs. Suddenly, from the river came snatches of songs, girls' laughter, and a ringing "Hello!" You stepped out onto the balcony. In the gathering twilight, wreaths with burning candles floated across the mirror-smooth water—tiny flames like fallen stars. And in the distance, around the bend, a huge bonfire blazed, casting crimson reflections into the sky.

"What is this?" you asked, staring at the spectacle in fascination.

Uncle smiled into his mustache:
— Ivan Kupala. Our holiday. Come, I'll show you.

You walked down to the river. The grass was wet with dew, the air thick with the scent of flowers. People were dancing in circles, and couples were jumping around the fire, holding hands. You stood a little distance away, watching the girls lower new wreaths into the water. Suddenly, a young man emerged from the river, shaking himself like a huge black dog. He was walking straight toward you.

A vicious circle formed around you. You looked at each other, and the flames danced in his eyes.

An uncle nearby laughed:
"Don't be afraid of anything. On Ivan Kupala, everyone can meet their destiny."