The mist drifted lazily among the alders, and circles spread across the dark surface of the lake. Mara had goosebumps, even though she knew this forest like the back of her hand. Her grandmother used to say that only fools venture here on Kupala night, especially when the moon is covered by clouds. But Mara was not frightened by the old stories - after all, herbalists had to gather herbs at dawn if the concoctions were to really work. That night, everything seemed different. The air was heavy and the silence deeper than usual. Mara crouched among the ferns, looking for whisperberry - a rare flower that only grew when deer drank water from the lake. As she raised her hand to pluck the plant, she heard a loud splash. She froze. Something moved between the reeds. Could it be beavers? Or perhaps the old blind catfish her grandfather had spoken of? Suddenly, a quiet wail came from deep in the forest. Mara glanced nervously behind her. On the other side of the lake she spotted a pale light. Was it a fisherman's lamp, or something less human? Suddenly the wind brought with it the smell of incense and smoke. Mara felt her heart beat faster. Fairies, utopians, forest demons - all these creatures could be lurking on the solstice night at the Black Lake. Suddenly, something brushed her shoulder. Mara turned abruptly and then she saw a pair of yellow eyes staring at her from the darkness. Something inside whispered to her to run away....