He was roused from his half-asleep by an incomprehensible, but vaguely familiar sound. Maybe heard? The wind blew in the corners of the house, the deadwood crackled in the hearth, the children sniffed, the grandfather moaned to some of his dreams - nothing unusual, like so many nights before.

When it happened again, Cres broke out in goosebumps and tried to convince himself for a while that it was just a nightmare. Although it would be naive to hope that they would just leave him alone, wouldn't it?

Holding on to the wall, he got to his feet and walked towards the exit. On the way, he stepped on something, and it tipped over with a crash. Kres paid no attention to this unfortunate oversight and climbed out into the air, not forgetting to once again drive his head into the low lintel.

Bosorki soared in an almost silent dance against the background of the loose sky. Lots of barefoot. One by one, they fell like a stone to the houses where the village was peacefully dozing.

Before Cres co