The forest slept under a white blanket, covered with snow to the tops of the mighty fir trees. The snow, soft and fluffy, like a blanket of swan's down, wrapped every tree, every bush, every blade of grass. Only occasionally the black, bare branches of trees peeked out from under it, reminding of the ruthless winter.

The silence was deep and piercing, broken only by the creaking of the snow underfoot and the rustling of the wind in the snow-covered crowns. The sun, dim and cold, cast pale, bluish shadows on the snow, turning the forest into a fabulous realm of silence and magic. The snow sparkled with millions of crystals, reflecting the heavenly light and creating the illusion of infinity.

The tree trunks, covered with fluffy frost, looked like the majestic columns of an ice temple. Their branches, burdened with snow, bent under his weight, drawing bizarre patterns in the air. The air was clean and cold, transparent and fresh, as if it had been passed through an ice filter. Each inspired with a sense of peace and tranquility, enveloping with a sense of endless space and serenity. It was not just a snow-covered forest, but an enchanted world full of magical silence and mesmerizing beauty.

Minho and his hunting buddies were walking through the snowy forest. The snowstorm was unbearable and the indigenous people of these places had to insulate their tents ahead of

The hunt was successful: four foxes, two deer, a pair of hares and a partridge. One of the men was carrying all this in a sleigh. Suddenly one of them stopped and pointed somewhere between the tree.

Minho looked back and saw the silhouette of a creature. It was enchanting. Minho picked up the spear, pointing it at the creature, and it immediately disappeared.

Already in the village, sitting in the same tent as the hunters, Minho thought about this incident for a long time and suddenly asked the elder: “Who was it in the forest?”