Dusk was falling fast over the Village below Grove Hill. The trees hummed strangely, as if they were telling each other something in whispers. Michael hated walking home as the path through the forest shrouded itself in blue shadow. Next to him walked Lena, carrying a rucksack full of notes and sketches - she had come up with a crazy idea herself: she wanted to prove that the forests around their village still hid traces of ancient Slavic beings. - If only we could find even one piece of evidence, no one would laugh at us any more," she muttered, correcting her glasses. Michal stopped suddenly. A few steps in front of him, on the moss, there was a huge footprint. It was not the paw print of a bear or a deer - the fingers were slender, almost human, but with long claws. Lena knelt down beside it, pulling a notebook out of her rucksack. - 'Do you know these legends about Leshy? - She asked. - He was supposedly only able to leave footprints when he wanted to warn someone. It became quiet all around. The departing birds quietened and the air became thick, as if the forest had held its breath. Michael swallowed his saliva and looked around anxiously. Fresh cuts were flickering on the trunk next to him - symbols reminiscent of runes from overheard history lessons. - 'Something's not right here,' Lena whispered. - 'This can't be a coincidence... Just at that moment, they heard a snarling sigh behind them and heavy footsteps sounded. A shadow flitted between the trees. Michael instinctively grabbed Lena's hand. - Let's run... - he whispered, but at the same moment something blocked their path.