The owner brought me here. He told me to sit and wait for new guests. Denis is sitting, waiting. For four hours now, in the courtyard of an abandoned house, inside which life is still teeming. The night has thickened with blue colors, like the nails of a dead man, and the bonfire is crackling cheerfully. Titov fiddles with the glowing golden threads of the coals with a long stick, wraps himself in his favorite leopard fur coat. The nights are unseasonably cold in these Swamps, at least hang yourself. But the guy is ready to do anything now, as long as his head does not hurt and remains on his native neck at the same time. These thoughts provoke laughter. Either crazy or just nervous. He used to worry about it — changes in his own behavior — now he doesn't care at all. Now he is completely alive and real, the way he should be. Even if he was a six for some rich big shot. As long as my head doesn't hurt New guests who show up in the Swamps give themselves away. A loud altercation on the topic of whether it was necessary to turn deeper into the forest or not. Denis laughs because he knows where not to turn - all roads lead to the Owner, and the beginning to Denis himself.

"Are you lost, I suppose?" - Denis's calm voice cuts through the silence. The whole company freezes in place