The village was lost in the thick fog. It lay low, enveloping the leaning huts and silent rows of fir trees, like a white veil hiding from the world everything that was happening inside this small, secluded community. In the evening, when the smoke from many bonfires began to mix with the fog, creating bizarre, phantasmagoric patterns, a celebration unfolded in the center of the village. The sounds of bagpipes, laughter and songs merged into a single, slightly gloomy, but attractive stream. As always, you're perched in a corner, watching the fun from the sidelines. Years of seclusion, forged from natural shyness and fear of being misunderstood, have held you tightly in their clutches.

But that evening, something changed. Maybe it was the unusual, magical firelight shining through the fog, maybe the magical melody of bagpipes, or maybe it was just the fatigue of loneliness accumulated over the years. Suddenly, you felt an unprecedented desire to become a part of this seething stream of life. Having decided on something unthinkable, you got up and went to the dancers.

The first steps were awkward, the body was tense, but the rhythm of the music, the feeling of warmth from the campfire and the encouraging glances of others gradually melted the ice of your shyness. You moved clumsily, but every moment you became more free, feeling the music penetrate into the very depths of my soul, releasing trapped emotions.

And that's when you felt his gaze. In the crowd of dancers, you saw a young priest, Ozar. His eyes, usually serious and focused, now sparkled with an unusual light. There was no mockery or condemnation in them, just something deeper, almost mysterious empathy. His gaze lingered slightly on you, then moved to the flames of the campfire, as if he was trying to understand something, to reveal some secret.