Love Of Ages

- Ira! the girl screeched. "I don't want to end up in the next world ahead of time!"

A little more, one step, and the girlfriends would have been under the wheels of a scheduled bus. The metal giant came to a halt with an ear-piercing creak, and from its window an avalanche of the driver's choice curses and the screams of passengers fell in an avalanche. They fell like dominoes, trying to grab onto each other in a panic.

- I don't want to be late. Miss Mila does not accept if you stay even for a minute. Hurry! - Ira threw over her shoulder, crossing the road, and dragged her friend along the broken sidewalk. "Do you know that she has an appointment for three weeks?! For three!

"God..." Marina shook her head.

"Only, when we come in, it's not worth mentioning the gentlemen, I don't think she will," she took a breath lost from running, "like it."

- I can not go into the apartment at all. I'll wait in the yard.

Ira stopped so abruptly that her friend, who minced after her, ran into her by inertia.

"You won't leave me, Marin!" I alone am afraid. They say she is a very strong witch, - looking around, she whispered in her ear: - A real witch.

- What, and a crochet nose? And a wart on the tip the size of a dried cherry? - Marina never believed in the supernatural, trusting reason and relying on logic. And she considered herself an atheist, denying any deities and the existence of any forces that affect the fate of people, but she regularly wore a cross on a thin silver chain.

- I do not know. Everyone describes it differently. - Ira pulled her friend's hand, urging her on, and told already on the way: - Mom's friend was talking about a young golden-haired girl. And her husband twisted at his temple and talked about a terrible old woman.

- Well built business. Who is free, that and Mrs. Mila. In the morning a beauty, in the evening she is replaced by an old woman, so you can work twenty-four hours a day.

You don't understand, they went together. Together.

Girlfriends have passed through a high archway. Three-story houses surrounded them hostilely. The eye sockets of the huge windows were frightening with blackness, and the unnatural silence forced them to look at each other. No honking cars, no rumble of roadworks, just the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves.

- Seventh house, seventh apartment. - Ira repeated by heart the memorized address.

- Also the street of the seventh Guards army. Marina read the index. "Lady Mila has a strange fondness for the number seven. The words, as if amplified by a megaphone, climbed up the brick walls.

- Quiet!

At the entrance to the right entrance girlfriends expected another oddity. A riot of colors hid the windows of the first floor. Flowers are everywhere: in narrow flowerbeds between paved paths, in massive concrete tubs, which, if desired, cannot be moved even by a crowd of adult men, greenery seemed to grow out of nowhere, rising along the stucco molding of the old house almost to the roof. The fact that roses bloomed next to tulips did not hide from the eyes, and scarlet dahlias blazed under bushy lilacs with white clusters of small flowers. And the biggest oddity was the wrong time of year for flowering - mid-March. The sun was just entering into force, delighting with warm rays, and here it is ...

"I told you," Ira whispered, holding the handle of the front door.

Marina feigned indifference to the view that opened up to her, counting in her mind the cost of organizing a front garden and estimating Lady Mila's earnings. In disbelief, the girl tugged at the ivy lash, but it held on tight, and no fastenings were visible to the human eye.

There was a sign outside apartment number seven that said, "Come in without knocking."

- What, just go in like that? - Ira covered the metal handle with her palm, but changed her mind and knocked on the canvas of the carved wooden door.

"I don't think they teach reading in schools anymore," came a displeased, croaking grunt. "They knock so loud it rings in my head," the voice continued to grumble.

Gathering courage, the girls entered. The corridor of the apartment, like the entrance, met with twilight and a thick smell of herbs and heavy incense.

"Hurry up," a woman's voice said. "My time is precious.

"I think you underestimate your services," the same croaking voice grumbled.

- T-s-s.

The many closed doors on both sides of the corridor gave her friends the idea that Mrs. Mila bought the entire first floor of the apartment building for her sole use.

Ira slowed down at the open doors, cleared her throat, stepped into the room and said:

- Hello, Mila.

- Good afternoon. Have a seat. A wrinkled, dark-spotted hand waved at the high-backed sofa. -What brings you to me? Who will I be talking to?

"With me, Lady Mila," Irina said, peering into the twilight that hides the appearance of the old woman.

- You can call me the Witch. Come to me. - The witch invited to sit down at the round table. - What do you want from me?

"There is a guy," Irina began the story in a trembling voice. Her muscles spasmed with fear, and her tongue stiffened. The high ceilings of the square room went to infinity, look up and you will not see the ceiling, so it seemed to the girl. Antique massive furniture talked to those present, creaking for no apparent reason, thick curtains on the windows completely hid the sun, and Ira examined a stuffed large raven on the closet. "There is a guy," she repeated, returning her gaze to her interlocutor, "but he does not notice me.

"Do you want to tie him to you?" Came for a love potion? The old woman leaned forward, placing her knotted hands on the table. The dim light of a single candle illuminated an ugly face. Oblong, even long, with a hooked nose. With a sharp tip, he touched the huge camel lips.

- Y-y-yes. - Ira was hypnotized by round bulging eyes without eyelids.

- And you are ready to see him next to you day and night?

- Ready.

"He will be the only one in your life and will never let another man in," the old woman said warningly.

-Good.

- Ira, maybe not? - Marina said, shrinking from fear.

"Be quiet, you don't believe in my strength at all," the old woman interrupted imperiously.

So, Irina. - The fortune teller covered the girl's hand with a cold palm and pressed it down to the table, - should I dry Vanechka until you die or like that, for a year or two?

"I didn't say his name!" - Opening her mouth in surprise, Ira tried to pull the brush out of the grip.

The old woman chuckled nastily, relaxing her fingers. The sofa, wardrobe, table, chairs, everything in the room laughed raspily, supporting their mistress, even the stuffed raven clicked its beak.

Erin, let's get out of here. And do you need a Queen? He's a dumb jock with one twist, and I saw how he kicked the cat that sat down on his car to warm up.

- Well, girl, decide. The old woman widened her already huge eyes.

- Want! - left the money in the middle of the table.

Long fingers wrapped around the bill, hiding it behind a ragged woolen shawl.

-As you wish! yelled the Witch, blowing out the flame of the candle.

Left in pitch darkness, the friends did not dare to move. A woman's voice whispered incomprehensible words, and someone repeated and repeated after him.

The soft hairs on Ira's neck stirred when she felt the wet, cold kiss. It was as if a dead man had touched her lips.

- Irina and Ivan forever! - resounded somewhere above and slid down the walls to the floor in streams of icy air sliding down the legs.

A ray of light slipped from under the closed doors, the girlfriends, forgetting about self-control and endurance, ran out of Vorozhei, spurred on by other people's laughter, stomping loudly.

- Why are you like that? - The raven flew off the closet and landed on the table, he could not calm down and was still barking with laughter.

They've come for a show. The young goldilocks pulled back the curtains. And they got what they wanted. And you, Pascal, should be restrained.

- Open the windows wide open, I'm about to suffocate. Raven pretended not to hear the remark.

"I will turn you to stone, Pascal. Narrowing her bright blue eyes, the girl stared at the bird.

"Oh-oh," moaned the raven, putting a wing in the chest area. - Do not scare, who will create special effects for you?

"And that's true," the witch laughed loudly, inhaling the fresh air.

- Who else is there? Expressing displeasure, Pascal loudly flapped his wings. "Reception is over," he called out. But the knock was repeated. What a persistent person. Witches used to be respected, even feared. And now they are almost knocking on the door with their foot.

Shut up, Pascal. He really needs my help. Covering her shoulders with a shawl, the old woman shuffled out of the room.

- Are you a witch? - A boy of seven or eight years old, frowning funny, looked from head to toe a golden-haired girl in blue jeans and a white T-shirt.

"Yes," she replied. - What, it doesn't look like it?

"Nope," the child answered honestly. Too pretty and young.

"Hmmm," she drawled, removing the prickly shawl from her shoulders. "A pure soul without malicious intent," the witch thought happily. The boy, looking into her eyes, sparkled with kindness and naivety. But only pure souls see the real face.

"Perhaps I was wrong. The boy turned around on his axis, looked at the other two doors, completely inconspicuous, ordinary, like in their apartment: large, heavy, metal. He repeatedly asked his parents why such uncomfortable and ugly doors were needed. And he always received one answer: "So that bad people cannot enter our house. The house is a fortress, where it is safe and calm. But what if someone or something bad is already inside the fortress?

- I'm not mistaken. Can't you see the witchcraft?

- I see that flowers are blooming under your windows, but I know that it is still too early. We were told around the world.

- Well, come on. You didn't just look for me, did you?

The boy trampled a little, remembering the prohibitions and instructions of his parents, but stepped over the threshold of someone else's apartment. How could such a beautiful aunt harm him? And if she is a real witch, the one his grandmother told about, then he will definitely ask for help!

The witch led the child into the kitchen, where Pascal was seated on the open window and breathlessly, noisily drew in the scent of flowers.

- What a great! And is he alive? the boy asked. - Can I touch it?

- Not. The witch placed three ceramic cups on the table. Pascal doesn't like to be touched. The raven nodded in agreement and flew over to the table. - What is your name?

"Seryozha," the child replied, and then he began to doubt. If dad finds out that I gave my name to a stranger, he will swear a lot.

- Will not. We know each other, my name is Mila. But promise me that you will never, ever enter someone else's apartment without your parents again!

- Promise. I know that not all people are good.

Pascal croaked derisively and shook his head, wondering at the child's innocence. Picking up the bagel with his beak, he carefully dipped it into the tea, waited for it to get wet, and swallowed it.

- Wow! Is there anything else he can do?

- Can do a lot. Pascal will definitely show you, just tell me why you were looking for me?

There is always something strange going on in our house. Someone beats the dishes, and the parents think of me. But it's not me, honestly! I said I didn't touch the blue plate, but Mom and Dad didn't believe me. They said that you need to be able to admit your mistakes. And at night I hear the clatter in the corridor, and sometimes someone runs along the ceiling. Yesterday I even hid the flashlight under the covers, turned it on sharply, but did not have time. But I know for sure that this is not a fantasy! It jumped on me. Twice!

Raven stopped tea and listened attentively to the child.

- How long has this been happening? - Mila drank tea in small sips, wondering in her mind who it could be dirty.

- For a long time. As we moved here in the summer, it began to rumble and make noise. - Seryozha overcame embarrassment and stole a chocolate candy from under the raven's beak. - Only my grandmother and I hear, but mom and dad do not.

"I see," the witch replied calmly.

"So will you help me?"

- I'll help. I'll drink tea and help. And who told you about me?

- Grandmother told me, and her new girlfriends. We live next door. She explained how to find you. My grandma is old, it is hard for her to walk.

"You finish your drink, I need to take something with me."

The witch took out a lady's red purse, put a ritual knife and a linden twig into it, became thoughtful, looking at the shelves full of all sorts of witchcraft utensils, decided not to risk it, and grabbed a horseshoe from a dead horse.

"My room with my grandmother is at the end of the corridor. And this is the kitchen, there is a toilet, and here," Seryozha pointed to the second door from the entrance, "the parents' room. Aunt Mila, just be careful, she makes noise and rumbles now and during the day. He peered through the open door, not daring to go in.

- I understood you. You stay here and don't come in, okay?

"Sure," said the boy.

The witch went into the kitchen, flung open the window. Pascal waited, perched on a tree, to be let in.

- Well? How is the situation?

- As I thought, the house-elf is bullying the old woman and the child. Do you smell sour?

"Maybe the owners don't like to take out the trash, that's the smell?" - Pascal grumbled in his ear, sitting on the shoulder of the hostess.

- Let's check it out now. The witch purposefully went to the boy's room.

- Who you are? the voice rasped indignantly. An old woman was sitting on the bed by the window. Feeling her glasses on the bedspread, she put them on the tip of her nose and glared at the intruders. - What do you need?

We've come to help. Seryozha, your grandson invited. - Quickly collecting golden curls in a ponytail, Mila sucked in air and wrinkled her nose. "Now you won't deny it," Pascal whispered. - The bedroom smells of sour milk.

- Seryozhka, so he brought you? The old woman smoothed out the folds on her flannel dressing gown with trembling hands and shouted loudly: "Oh, you swindlers! I know those! They forced the child to let him into the apartment, and now you yourself are climbing all the cabinets. Collect money, gold, and remember your name! Get out!

- Grandma, we will help and leave. We won't take anything.

The witch wanted to enter the bedroom, but the old woman screamed even louder:

- I'll call the police! Help! she yelled, raising her head to the ceiling. - Steal! Kill! Fire! Fire!

"That's thanks to you," Pascal croaked. - They will hand over to the dungeon without hesitation.

"To the police," the witch corrected.

"Aunt Mila," Seryozha touched her hand, "this is not my grandmother. Dad took my grandma to the hospital yesterday.

Firmly holding her hand, Mila led the child to the playground.

"Don't come in," she shook her index finger instructively at Seryozha's face. "Even if you hear me calling you, don't believe it. This housewife is playing pranks. If you enter, he can scare you a lot, like your grandmother.

The boy reluctantly let go of the warm hand.

I won't, I promise!

- Clever. The witch smiled and disappeared into the apartment, tightly closing the door behind her. "Hatnik," she called out, calling the brownie to talk, "isn't it a shame to harass a child with an old woman?"

"He's not ashamed," croaked Pascal, seating himself on branched deer antlers attached at the very entrance.

"If you're not ashamed," the witch very slowly, revealingly removed the blade from the ladies' purse, "to expel and not understand, let her live on the street with stray dogs. No economy, no warmth and comfort.

"Don't threaten me," a mocking voice sounded overhead. - Where are you going to stick your knife? - he laughed wickedly. Loud steps, similar to the sound of horse hooves, subsided in the kitchen. The witch calmly followed the clatter. - There is one stone everywhere, your knife will break off.

"And I didn't just take the dagger with me. Taking out a linden rod, the witch cut the air sharply.

- Hey, you damned witch! roared the housekeeper in a voice that was not his own. - It's burning!

- I know. Well, show up! She waved, listening to the slightest rustle.

"Hush, damn. - The brownie appeared, starting with sharp, like a cat's ears. - What got stuck?

"Spill it," came the advice from the corridor.

"Your witch isn't strong enough. - Domovik offendedly rubbed his stomach. - Still young, green.

The raven croaked ominously, neither confirming nor denying the words. Domovik nervously twitched his ear, then the other, not wanting to test the magical power in practice.

- I'll definitely dispel it. Already put on a black caftan. - Mila angrily sparkled with bright eyes.

- Why should I wait, my grandmother will soon pass away. Hairy brushes with long hairy fingers proudly stroked the rough fabric. "I immediately dressed up for the holiday," he chuckled sarcastically.

- Are you angry? It can be seen that good people live in the house.

"These are not my people," grumbled the brownie angrily.

Are yours dead? croaked the raven.

- And what's your business? - Hissing like a cat, the house elf raised his fur on end. "Dead or not," puffing up to the size of a large dog, he ran into the corridor. Serezha, help me! shouted at the door in a woman's voice. He immediately gasped in pain, having received a second blow with a linden rod. - Witch! Go away!

- I'm leaving, but only with you.

- Why would you help the boy? There is nothing to take from them, just look at how they live. - The situation in the apartment was unpretentious, without pretensions. Yes, and the child himself is dressed in things from someone else's shoulder, - the witch noted this at home.

"And I don't need anything.

She is my philanthropist. - Turning his head to one side, the raven carefully watched the brownies.

- Cha-a-vo? The little man wrinkled his round nose with a sparse cat mustache in a funny way.

- Benefactor.

- Yah! - the house-elf was surprised, fluffing up even more and bulging his green eyes. - Bad or sick?

- Worse! conscientious.

- I don't understand something! With her fists on her hips, Mila glared at Pascal. Do you want to follow him outside? You two will wander.

- What are you, hostess? The raven lowered its beak in repentance. "I just wanted to explain that it's useless to bargain with you.

- Oh well. Mila pursed her lips angrily, tiny sparks descended through her hair, falling to the floor.

- Thunderstorm! But why was the lady silent, did not introduce herself?

"None of your business," the witch answered, remembering the words of the house elf. She did not specify that she not only makes friends with a thunderstorm, but also the rest of the elements willingly obey her. "You still haven't answered, why are you harassing people?"

- So these are not my owners, so I'm harassing. I'm waiting for them to leave.

- Where are yours?

The old man climbed onto the table, grabbing and pulling himself up with his arms and legs. He sat down, crossed his legs, and whined:

- They left me tu-u-ut, they didn't take me-a-ali with them. We moved out last year, but grandfather Yosha was not called-a-ali.

- Stop whining - I'll help. Get ready and leave the house to the new owners, and I will find the old ones for you.

"So you'll deceive me, now I'll just go out the door, and you'll seal my ass with a stirrer and seal the door," he screwed up his eyes, not understanding whether the witch was lying or not.

- I won't cheat. Mila shook the linden twig in front of her furry face. - You will have a home. You don't think for a long time, I can just kick you out, I'm not some kind of self-taught person, but a hereditary sorceress.

Separating a long, hairy limb from his disheveled side, the house elf held out his hand:

- Good, witch.

- Good, - she shook hands, not paws.

- Will you return the owners to me today? The little housewife clung to the witch's slender leg.

"Don't be impudent and get off me," she stomped. The old man jumped down gently, stood on all fours and turned into a gray cat. - I allow you to live with me. My house without a master, you will not have disputes. - The cat walked between the legs, caressing and purring. "I allow you for a while," the witch clarified. Domovik no longer listened to threats and lamentations. He rejoiced and did not believe his luck: instead of ordinary people, he had a witch as his master. Yes, not simple, but thunderous - spontaneous, it's all his familiar house-buildings that will go crazy with envy.

The witch opened the door and threw out the cat with the words of the conspiracy, untying the brownie and protecting the house from evil spirits.

Seryozha leaned against the wall, timidly looking at the animal. The gray cat did not leave, sat down a few steps away and licked the fur on its side.

"Did he scare my grandmother and me?"

- No longer. The witch sprinkled the door leaf with a protective decoction from a carved vial. "And be sure to take this to your grandmother." She put a canvas bag with a homemade label into the child's hand. Let her make tea and drink it. So you help your grandmother. Can you do it?

- I'll do it!

- Here's the good girl, - Mila smiled affectionately, - don't tell anyone about our meeting.

The cat started up, gave up his occupation and hurried after the witch up the steps.

Are you bringing all sorts of rubbish into the house? - The raven circled a meter above the pretty golden head, and under the feet of the witch, a smoky cat was spinning, never ceasing to purr and meow ingratiatingly. "We won't get rid of him now, we won't expel him to the old or new owners.

Turning her head towards Pascal, the witch tripped over the cat and nearly sprawled out on the stone path.

"Shush, shush," she waved her hand and stamped her foot. "Do you have any idea what we look like from the outside? - The cat stood up on its hind legs and slightly dug its claws into the women's knees, and in a second it was proudly sitting on the witch's hands. Pascal croaked loudly and displeasedly, fell to the ground, turning into a handsome man with tarry hair. "That is certainly better, Pascal. We used to just attract attention, but now the girls are ready to turn their heads because of you. At least smile at someone.

"But why should I smile," Pascal adjusted the cuffs of his black shirt in a mannered manner, "only a decorative bump sticks out in my trousers, it's good for the girls from my smiles. He laughed at his own joke, croaking between laughter. "But from him," he snapped the cat's nose with his finger, "we can't get rid of him.

- Let's put it on.

- This is not a kitten, so that in good hands. We can't wait for an invitation to the Sabbath. Pascal shook his head ruefully, brushing a gleaming tar strand from his face with a sharp sweep. And you didn't do anything wrong this year.

- Instead of a love spell, I cast lust on the girls. And the first one, that she came to ask, and the second one, that she did not believe in my charms, the witch did not agree.

- Soothsayers indulge in such pranks even in the cradle. A quarter of a century has outlived itself, and so she did not become a traveling witch. You are not a real witch.

"If it's not real," the girl cried out, "then choose another and serve her!" - The cat hissed furiously, supporting the words of the temporary mistress.

You don't know what you're missing. Dancing until the morning, men, women, wine and blood by the river. Coition ... I would have been energized for a hundred years ahead. Ask your mother already, let her put in a good word for you.

The witch snorted in annoyance, more stupidity and did not hear. For her mother to ask for her. Yes, the mother does not recognize kinship with strangers, but here is a request.

- It's me. - Slamming the door, Mila wearily sat down on the bench and took hold of the lock of her boot.

"Mistress," a housewife flew in, jumping onto a woman's knees, "and he," he poked at a crow walking along the floor, "sniffed all the bubbles in your closet, looking for something!" Huge green eyes narrowed suspiciously. - He wants to steal!

"Stupid," drawled the raven, "what kind of fool would rob his witch?" What kind of helper am I then?

"That's what I'm talking about. The housewife rolled from foot to hand, following the witch. -Pest! No matter how I look, you stick your beak everywhere, you slam the doors.

- And you! - The raven caught up with the offender and tried to peck. - Have you already told everyone that you go in the service of a witch?

- Quiet! Mila screamed. And without you, my head hurts.

- So let me pour some tea, brew it with lime blossom. - Domovik stopped dancing at his feet. He jumped up, rumbled a full teapot on the iron grate and smiled. - I baked cheesecakes.

- Yes, what is your lime color, only your nose will itch. Now I'll bring the powder on snake venom. Pascal spread his wings.

"What else, I won't let my mistress be poisoned!"

When did she become yours? The raven flapped its wings and snapped its beak menacingly.

- Yes, as she let me into the hut, so did mine, - grandfather Yosha snapped.

- Temporarily! Temporarily! Will we get rid of it soon? Did you find him a home? No patience with this redneck.

"Who are you calling a redneck, cock?" Yes, I have been serving in the city for four hundred years! - In confirmation of his words, the brownie rolled up the sleeves on a white caftan and, without thinking twice, rushed with his fists. The raven pushed off, took off, circled under the ceiling, croaked and teased.

- Freeze! - broke out of Mila in the hearts. "No rest from you. She trudged wearily over to the stove and switched off the burner. Grandfather Yosha hung on one arm, clinging to the chain of a round lamp under the ceiling. The raven, having opened its beak, just dived and froze on the table in an uncomfortable position, stretching out its left leg. "Pascal has been protecting me from the cradle. You," folding her hands on her chest, the witch glanced at the house elf, "should be less tongue-tied, if where the familiar looked, that's his business. - The raven croaked proudly, following the hostess with one eye. "And you, Pascal, don't tease. Yosha lives with us, he has no other owners anymore, I found out. The housewife groaned bitterly, swinging on the chandelier. - Wither away and so that my eyes do not come across today.

Grandfather Yosha grieved quietly, climbing onto a tall antique wardrobe, hugging himself, pulling his knees up.

Taking with her a laptop, a notebook and a pencil, the witch closed herself and did not leave the kitchen.

The raven approached the locked door, listened to the clicks of the mouse and keyboard, could not stand it, turned into a man and leaned towards the keyhole.

Neat brushes with long fingers fluttered over the buttons, took a pencil, made notes and tapped with great zeal.

"Come in already," Mila waved, inviting. - Stop rubbing your knees.

With a victorious smile, Pascal threw a disdainful glance towards the room where the little house was grieving, and twisted the doorknob:

What is my mistress concerned about?

"And you read," she turned the monitor around.

"The inhabitants of the Sunshine District complain of a poisonous smell," read the familiar. The witch clicked on another tab: - "Poisonous waste is dumped directly into the courtyards of the residents of the Sunny District ..."

"The tank farm continues to poison the population," the witch chattered, "The concentration of toxic substances has been exceeded in the Solnechnaya River," "Children found purple stains on the surface of the Solnyshko River!" And here, - she jabbed her finger at the monitor, - and here, and here there are cries for help from the inhabitants, but nothing. In one voice, all authorized persons speak about the norm and the absence of any excesses. Oooh! She drawled angrily and slammed her palm on the tabletop. They are destroying nature! Bureaucrats! Nettle Seed! Shvonders!

The air sparkled, golden hair flying up into the air and crackling. The witch opened another photo, growled angrily, looking at the multi-colored rain streams along the stream, snorted, and a small lightning struck near Pascal's feet, igniting the parquet.

"Hush, hush," he stepped on the orange ember.

- Don't be quiet on me! Look, the living is dying. The witch's gaze was filled with longing and pain, thick strands fell as sharply as they shot up. - Get ready! - Full of determination, Mila slammed her laptop, ran out of the kitchen, immediately returned: - I forgot my notebook. Get going, Pascal. I bought tickets, in the evening the train.

A beautiful couple attracted attention. People scurrying along the platform involuntarily kept their eyes on the miniature bright blonde and the handsome brunette towering next to her.

"We could have flown," grumbled Pascal. "I don't like it when people stare at me like that.

"This could have been avoided if someone took on a more modest appearance," the witch replied, looking at the approaching train.

- I can't help myself, craving for beauty. But about the flight you did not answer.

The witch raised her sharp chin, eyes full of indignation met the gaze of coal-black eyes:

- So that I restore weathered skin on my face for two weeks and choose midges, mosquitoes and flies from strands ?!

Loud male laughter drowned out the noise of the arriving train.

With an elegant gesture, Pascal invited Mila to take a seat by the window.

- Since we have to go more than an hour, tell us how you found out about Solnechny?

- By chance, I went to the market for herbs, and on the trading square there was a small picket of five people ...

"Homemade posters," interrupted the familiar, "with large letters written in red felt-tip pen, compassionate eyes, hungry children in shabby clothes... How did your mother instill in you patience and love for people?"

"It's not her merit, my grandmother raised and taught me," the girl snapped. "And my love for people is exaggerated," she bowed to the man's shoulder, whispering: "I worry about nature. Who will take care of her if not us?

Pascal put his arm around her fragile shoulders. The passengers of the car glanced at the "love" couple.

"When I heard about your birth, at first I thought it would be lucky for someone to serve the new witch of the Klevsky family. Strongest, smartest, toughest . - Mila gently pushed her elbow into the man's side. But, without thinking twice, I decided to try my luck myself. Around the house of your grandmother, the revered witch Ingelda, hundreds of familiars were waiting, wanting, like me, to take the place of the guardian. I spent three days in line.

"This is the longest story of disappointment, Pascal.

- No, this is the shortest story that I do not regret the time spent. So what's our plan? Why are we going to Sunny?

- Restoring justice. I found out that the owner of the base is a certain Mr. Chertogorsky. Incredibly rich, influential and indifferent to all living things. I hope we can meet in person.

- Personally? Do such people indulge in their presence?

- He needs to be pampered. Mila pursed her lips into a smile. - Believe me.

She looked forward to the moment of the meeting, when the culprit would be exposed in public. Personally by her. He immediately admits his guilt and promises to restore what was lost by nature and people. She will definitely take care of that! A graceful brush covered a leather backpack that kept many secrets: powders and potions that could affect human consciousness. It is not for nothing that Mila devoted the last week to the selection of recipes and the preparation of the necessary ones.

Arriving at the station, the couple refused the services of a local annoying taxi driver, choosing a leisurely walk. Wherever they appeared, they inevitably came under curious glances. The April evening turned out to be warm and windless, driving the locals out into the street after a long cold winter.

They haven't done anything yet, but they're already famous. - Pascal handed out scanty smiles and greetings left and right: in a tiny town it was customary to say hello when meeting a stranger. Hiding from prying eyes, he turned into a raven and, with his wings wide open enough, rose into the air.

"Do you think a visiting girl walking alone in the company of a crow circling above her will attract less attention?" the witch quipped. "We go there," she craned her neck, looking out from behind tall currant bushes. The pungent odor tickled his nostrils. - Hm. She turned off the beaten path, lost in the dense thickets. - Convenient, don't you think? The raven croaked in confirmation. On a hillock overlooking the town, there was a base, protected by a high concrete fence. A narrow road, for two cars, led to it, and bright spotlights burned around the perimeter around the clock.

"Where the hard woman has taken her..." grumbled the raven.

The witch bowed to every ruined bush and withered blade of grass, put her hand to every canker-covered tree, whispering words of sympathy. Going down to the stream, she collected an oily film from the surface of the water with her fingers, rubbed it, sniffing. She stamped angrily, imagining how she would avenge every centimeter of the ruined land. I got carried away and came even closer to the cherished territory, sneezed loudly, unable to stand the stench. Three dog heads appeared under the iron gates, warning the intruders with growls and occasional lazy barks.

- Are we going to sit in the bushes? - Sitting on the ground, the raven crept up to the hostess.

- Of course not. The reporters will be here soon.

- For what? Capture us in a ditch?

"What a disgusting thing you are, Pascal. Cars loaded with barrels arrive at night, and this moment needs to be caught on camera.