The August twilight was descending on the Forest like cool water. Mist rose from the wetlands and drifted low over clumps of sedges, and the spruce trees smelled of resin so intensely that Nina felt as if the whole forest was breathing at once. On the footbridge that crossed the bog, the boards creaked softly under her wellingtons. To the right, far away, the clangour of cranes rang out. Runo, a red mongrel with erect ears, glided by her leg, keeping his eyes on the girl's movements. - 'We've still got a bit of a ways to go to the photo trap,' muttered Janek, adjusting the binoculars around his neck. - If we hurry, we'll make it before dark. Nina nodded, but slowed down as she saw an imprint on the damp sand between the boards. No, two. She ducked, pushed away the needles. A narrow pawprint with four distinct pads. Next to it a second, smaller, as if uncertain. - A wolf," she said in a half-hearted voice. - Young and adult. See, length ... eight centimetres with a piece. Janek squatted down next to it. - Are they walking on a footbridge? That's strange. - He glanced at her briefly. - Can you see it? Nina had already seen it. In the prints, repeated every dozen steps or so, there was another trace: a thin, semicircular cut in the sand, as if something metal had brushed the ground and left a line. It matched neither wolf nor human. - 'There was something shiny by the little guy's neck on the footage yesterday,' she recalled. - I thought it was just a thin strip of light. Maybe he's wearing something after all.... - ...that he shouldn't be,' finished Janek and whistled quietly to Runa. - Close to the leg, mate. No charging. The trees thickened, the footbridge ended and the path turned along the black ribbon of the stream. The water carried a chill with it, the splash of frogs and the single flutter of wings could be heard. For a moment a grey shadow flitted overhead - a raven perched on a gnarled poplar tree and called back a hoarse 'crake'. The fleece quivered its muzzle, but remained by the leg. In a clearing called Old Trunks by the foresters stood their photo trap. Nina unlocked the metal box and took out a memory card. The small viewing screen flicked on. She moved the clips one by one: a deer, a wild boar, a pair of foxes, a deer again. Then - a night shot from yesterday. An untrained wolfhound, still covered in downy fur, with eyes reflecting the ray in bright green, entered the frame. And a flash, as brief as the flutter of an eyelid: by his neck, something clanked against a bone and shone. Metal. - See? - Janek lowered his voice. - He really is carrying something. - And the ravens by his side,' Nina remarked. - Two, maybe three. As if they were guiding him. She looked around the clearing. At the edge, in the grass, someone - or something - had arranged feathers in a circle. They were black and shiny, with a garnet sheen. In the centre lay a flat stone, criss-crossed by a white vein. It didn't look like the work of the wind. - 'Puzzling,' muttered Janek, dropping his gaze to the ground. - Don't touch it. They weren't going to. They could already feel the forest watching anyway. Runo twitched. Ears sharpened, tail hardened. From the reeds beyond the stream came a soft whimpering. First they saw a flash of brass - a small, smooth shape, like a button or a coin, slapping against their throats. And then he emerged: a wolf pup, still out of proportion, with paws too big for his body. In the light of the setting sun, his fur was a smoky shade. Around his neck was a thin, greying thong, and on the thong was a brass key. Fine, old, with teeth one of which was clearly chipped. The puppy stopped at the edge of the tall grass. His eyes were as bright as water in a stream. Fleece clung to the ground, he did not bark; he only wagged the end of his tail very slowly. Nina sank back on her heels, turned her head slightly to the side, just as her grandmother had once taught her: not to look a predator straight in the eye, not to make sudden movements. - 'Hey, little one,' she whispered, even though she knew it wasn't a dog. - 'We're not going to do anything to you. The key clattered against the bone as the wolf tilted its head. He took one step, then another. He stopped close enough that Nina could see the muddy flecks on his temple and the slight twitching of his nostrils. The girl's fingers named memory itself and traced the notebook in her pocket. She refrained - not now. To her left, a crow hopped from branch to branch, as if restless. Silence fell, in which only the trickle of water gliding over the stones could be heard. And then, under a feather of leaves, something heavier than a deer took a step. A branch snapped; the sound was fat, close. The pup lifted its head so abruptly that the key quivered like a pendulum. At the same moment, Runo whined briefly, warningly, and stood between Nina and the wall of bushes. - 'Nina, don't move,' said Janek quietly, but his voice had a new, thin note. - Behind you. The girl's shoulder blades trembled. The air thickened. Two, then four green sparks flashed in the corridor between the junipers. Pairs of eyes. Closer and closer, higher and higher above the ground. Someone - or something - extended a paw into the clearing, and a sheen of fur glided across the edge of the light.