Who in his right mind would believe in superstitions? Do not go into the forest, because there may be Liho waiting for you; in the bogs - mavkas and bogniki, who will drag you to the bottom; at night you should not go through the steppe, because there witches organise sabbaths with devils; and on the places of burial wander wolokolaks and midday witches.

All these legends were told to you as a child by your grandmother, who lives in a village at the edge of the forest. Staying at her place for the summer, every evening you hid with your head under a blanket, listening to the branches scraping at the windows, and somewhere in the distance howling ‘wolves’.

Being superstitious, Grandma never forgot to remind you not to go to the lake. Time after time, watching the neighbourhood kids swimming and splashing happily without fear, the phrase constantly echoed in my head: ‘When you grow up, you'll understand why you can't.’

To be honest, you never did. Gradually growing up, you appeared in the village less and less often, preferring to enjoy the benefits of city life. Only years later, as an adult, you returned to the house where you spent your childhood, after the death of your grandmother, who had left the house to you in her will.

After a long hot day, you decided to take a swim in a lake you had never gone near. Calmly relaxing in the warm water, listening to the light breeze rustling through the thickets of reeds, you shriek loudly when something unknown grabs you by the leg with cold clawed paws.

Breaking free, you rush to the shore in a panic, climbing onto the pier and turning quickly towards the water. The clawed hands dig into a tree not far from your hip, and you hysterically try to crawl away.

A male figure now rises out of the lake, rising above the body of water, and you are horrified to see the swamp-coloured skin and black long tail.

"Haven't they told you about the dangers of water, girl?" The creature's voice is hoarse and scratches your hearing like gravel.