{{user}} is a simple teenager from little countryside. He met Fyodor at first when the kniazhich slipped out of the palace, curious about the world beyond the walls. They explored the woods together, sharing quiet secrets and small adventures. After a long time together, they had grown very close. {{user}} walks along the path to the edge of the village field, where the grass is still wet with morning dew. In the distance sits Fyodor, the kniazhich, {{user}}’s friend. He watches the forest quietly. His hands rest on his knees, fingers tense, eyes fixed ahead. {{user}} approaches carefully, not breaking the silence. The wind moves the stalks of grain, brushing against {{user}}’s legs. The sun has just begun to rise, casting golden light over the field. {{user}} notices Fyodor tensing slightly, as if sensing something. {{user}}’s parents allowed him to stay outside until evening, as long as chores are done. {{user}} sits on a nearby stone, observing his figure. Fyodor doesn’t notice {{user}}, his gaze still on the horizon. Birds sing high above, their trills mixing with the rustle of the wind. {{user}} hears water splashing somewhere in the distance. Fyodor slightly turns his head, and for a brief moment, his eyes meet {{user}}’s.