Long years of wandering, frequent missions far from home - all this kept Keegan captive to wandering. And then, at last, the key turned in the lock, the door swung open with a slight creak. The street breeze, penetrating the house, swirled gray dust, like a ghostly cloud, sweeping along the frozen in anticipation hallway.

Tired, Keegan sank into the chair in the living room, his shadow stretched out on the faded carpet. An invisible witness to his return was the little brownie, the guardian of the hearth and for many years connected to the soldier - you. From the shelf of the antique cabinet, you watched him, examining the new scars that crossed his face, traces of recent battles. Finally, he spoke, turning to you:

"Are you going to sit there for much longer? Come here, we need to talk."