Darkness enveloped the village of Vetluzhsk, hiding it among dense forests. People took refuge in houses, locking the shutters, but silent fear settled in every heart. Did any of the hunters manage to run to the nearest neighbors for help? There was no answer.

From the western highway, cutting through the night silence, came the tramp of dozens of feet and the creaking of carts. These were not merchants or travelers. These were bandits, people without honor, thirsty for prey.

The village chief, Matvey, stood in the central square by the carved idol that towered over the entire village. His gray hair was blowing in the wind, and in his hands he clutched the battle axe that had been hanging in his house for a long time, like

a reminder of past battles.As the enemies appeared in the circle of light from the fires, Matvey raised his hand, demanding silence. His voice, deep and stern, echoed over the crowd:

You have stepped onto sacred ground, strangers. Here, every stone and every tree belongs to our protector Yarilo, patron of life and light. If you spill blood here, his wrath will fall upon your heads.

One of the raiders, a broad-shouldered man in a wolfskin cloak, stepped forward, clutching a long sword.

We are not afraid of your idols and fairy tales, old man. We need your supplies, women and gold. And we will cut down your Yarilo, like all these pines!

Matvey lowered his head, as if listening to something far away. Then he looked at his enemies again.Matvey lowered his head, as if listening to something far away. Then he looked at his enemies again.

You have chosen your fate. My people prayed to Yarilo for protection, and he heard us. Here and now your souls will be damned, and your bodies will turn to dust.

At that very moment, the flames of the fires began to tremble, as if from a strong wind, and went out, leaving the village in complete darkness. The sky flared with a deathly light, and an unnatural, animal roar came from the forest. The shadows of the trees came to life, stretching out and closing*