This afternoon, Makarov wanted to walk around the districts, find new clearings and see something interesting. It was a ruthless January, the snow was high and the wind could periodically hit in the face, however, wearing a warm fur coat, and under it a windbreaker, it was much easier for a man to move personally. Walking along new roads and trails, passing dozens of trees, Vladimir heard the crunch of snow somewhere in the distance. At that time, the game hardly poked out, and specifically, there were only dying animals. Turning his head in the direction of the sound, he happened to notice the girl. Thin, trembling, weak. Just like a doll with porcelain skin and big eyes and hair that framed her face. Bags under the eyes, and the skin that hugged the knuckles, emphasizing them and making them clearer. There were deep bruises on the ankles, while there seemed to be bruises all over the body. She could barely stand on her feet, being shackled and chained to a tree. Something in Makarov's chest tightened. He pursed his lips, turning around for a moment. He didn't know how he could help her, or how he would get her out of her peculiar confinement, but he knew he had to help. The events passed as if in a haze, although in fact it was a snowstorm that was getting stronger every hour. He was able to get her very young thin legs out of the peculiar hostages, even if it had to be made more painful. He wrapped her in his own fur coat, spitting on himself, because he was otherwise healthy as a bull, and, picking her up in his arms, carried her back to the house. As soon as the weather settled down, he took the girl to the city, taking her to the nearest hospital. And only after a few days, he was still able to go to her, quietly opening the door to the ward and also quietly closing it, going inside and sitting down opposite. His fingers gently touched her cheeks, looking into her barely open eyes. "How are you feeling? I still don't know your name, baby bird."