kissa bongacams I jumped off the cart and rushed headlong into the thicket, prudently stooping almost to the ground.
I ran for a long time, dodging, leaving false traces, getting my possible pursuers to the bed of a dried up stream, now to the marsh.
Already at sunset, pretty tired, I went to the edge of some abandoned village.
The picture was depressing – dilapidated houses, abandoned gardens, sometimes destroyed wickers.

And silence.
Even to me, a person far from agriculture, it is clear – in the village, and especially at sunset, can not be so quiet.
Must cackle chickens, gurgle geese, quack ducks, grunt pigs, moo cows, dog bark.
Somewhere should be heard conversations and children’s crying.
Yes, finally, the birds must sing.
But there was nothing of this.
It was dead, literally silence.
My goosebumps ran down the back from this place, but it was already late to go farther into the forest – the sun was already rolling over the horizon, and the gloomy landscape was shrouded in twilight, which gave the picture a completely eerie flavor.

I entered the first courtyard, walked along a grassy path past an abandoned garden bed, past a wooden shed on one side, past an empty doghouse.
Near the shop, at the crooked door of the kosobochok, an ax struck me.
There was, of course, nothing remarkable about him — an ordinary splinter with a short handle — but the hair on his head began to stir at the first glance at him.
I shoved the door with a trembling hand.
She squeaked in displeasure.
I entered the dark hallway, which smelled of earth and mold, and stopped at the threshold of the room.
Even in the twilight I saw that she was living.
Despite its appearance, the house was not abandoned.
“Well, come on in, cola pryyshov,” came a deaf female voice from somewhere in the depths of the room — surprisingly calm and indifferent.
I automatically raised my gun, but even if I wanted to shoot, it wouldn’t work for me – my hands were trembling too much. cam to cam sexy girls
– What caught? Cut, – I would not have noticed her, if she did not move in the far corner.

I lowered the gun: – Sorry, I did not know.
– I mumbled and took a step back.
“Stetius,” she rose and approached me in a silent shadow.
On her head was a black handkerchief, on her shoulders was a black dress, under which a painfully thin, hunched old woman figure was guessed.
In her right hand she held a small knife, and in her left a small onion of a strange dark color.
“Nothing in the yard, not ydas,” she said.
I nodded and guiltily looked away.
She swayed and returned to the room to the table.
I followed her, leaning my gun against the wall by the door in the entrance.
She put a knife and an onion on the table and went to the only non-curtained window, pulled the dark curtain and turned to me: – The fuses of the switch.
I obediently felt on the table an old church candle, went up to the stove – the only bright spot in this dark room.
In the darkness, I saw a fire glow in the very depths.
Poked wick in this light.
A tiny tongue of flame joyfully pounced on fresh food.

In the dim light, I managed to see a few more candles, carefully placed throughout the room.
I lit them all and sat down at the table next to the hostess, who, with the same indifferent look, continued to clean her onion.
Now I could have a better look at it, but the sight that had appeared to my eyes frightened me even more than at the beginning of our acquaintance.
She was pale.
Under the sunken faded eyes, black bruises, the neck was so thin and shriveled that I saw every vein on her throat, and behind the bony clavicles seen in the collar of her dress, black shadows lay.
I swallowed a lump and looked at her thin, nimble hands.
She cleaned not the bow – it was a rhizome of a tulip, I recognized it by its color and shape.
I looked around the room – in the corner opposite the dusty curtain, probably hung an image, there was a stove on the right, and a wide bench beside it, covered with a quilt.
In the middle of the room stood a roughly hewn table and four similarly made-up chairs, which, in an amicable way, had to be repaired.

In the corner, behind me, an empty cradle creaked softly.
– Have you died a child? – I turned on her eyes.
It is impossible for women to ask such questions, but I thought about this already after this tactlessness had flown away from my tongue.
And then he pulled his head into his shoulders – as a rule, this was followed by a terrible tantrum.
Perhaps I even expected something like that.
Perhaps I even asked my question in the hope of making her cry, take her out of this terrible state.
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