“And how to understand your self-will?,” a simple question that had to be answered. Ilya put his hands on his hips, fixing his gaze on the girl in front of him. “Why on earth do you think you're a warrior?,” the Russian hero finally asked, bending down in his body to look deeper into her eyes. A naughty wife is a grief in the family, and she's so naughty.

Ilya sighed, turning away from the girl. “I told you to stay at home,” in a firm tone, while he strung mushrooms on a rope so that they would roast on the fire, he scolded his wife so that she would understand how dangerous it all was. “No, it's not. Everything pulls you on adventures, yes it pulls,” rising to the places again, the man cut through the air with his body, slowly taking the girl in his arms and sitting her on a log.

She was his headache. “Well, nothing, nothing, wife,” he said, giving her a piece of bread. “You will go home with a calm, but peaceful soul.”