Alla Sergeyevna slowly came to herself, feeling the heavy weight of fatigue settling on her shoulders. Her head was pounding, her eyelids felt like lead. She heard the children closing the door—carefully, trying not to make noise. It was strange because usually they came and went loudly, as if deliberately emphasizing their presence. But today everything was different.
Gathering her strength, she propped herself up on her elbows, leaning against the headboard, and looked out the window. Through the dusty glass, she caught sight of Pyotr and Marina quickly walking toward the forest. Their silhouettes flickered between the trees until they disappeared behind the dense wall of greenery. Alla Sergeyevna tried to call out:
«Marinochka! Petya! Wait!»
But her voice was weak, barely more than a whisper. The children did not turn back. One more moment—and they were out of sight. The woman closed her eyes but opened them again after a second. Tears streamed down her cheeks like little mountain streams. They ran over the deep wrinkles that time had etched on her face.
“How did it come to this? How could I have let things get so far?” she thought, feeling a hollow emptiness inside, cold and bottomless like a well.
Her son had always been a difficult child. Whether it was his nature or fate playing a cruel joke—no one knew. He had always been “drifting,” as Alla Sergeyevna herself said, from one city to another, from one job to another. Sometimes it seemed he had found himself, then suddenly everything collapsed. And then, when he was already past forty, he returned home—with his young wife named Marina.
He didn’t come empty-handed, but neither was he wealthy. Only with hope, which soon began to slip away like sand through fingers. Alla Sergeyevna welcomed them warmly. Well, she thought, let it be so—the family nearby, a grandson will be born, and then a new life will begin.
Vanya, her beloved grandson, had lived with her since birth. She loved him with all her heart, rejoiced in every step he took, every victory. She had a big house, savings—everything people have after many years of work. Once, still during her husband’s lifetime, they built this house together, saving on everything, setting aside every ruble.
But one day Pyotr found out how much money was in his mother’s bank accounts. His face changed then. It became harsh, almost unrecognizable.
“Mother, you’re so rich and say nothing?” he asked with a strange tone—half surprised, half reproachful.
“Rich?” Alla Sergeyevna smiled bitterly. “This isn’t wealth. Just a little to help the grandson, maybe to buy an apartment…”
“No way! Let him earn it himself!” her son sharply interrupted. “You have a son, you know! Why does everything go only to Vanya?”
He stomped angrily, turned away, but then, calming down a bit, spoke again:
“Mother, here’s a tempting deal. You need to invest a little, but the profit will be huge!”
Alla Sergeyevna shook her head. She knew that look—hope mixed with greed was awakening in his eyes.
“You invested before. And what came of it? No money, no profit. But decide for yourself.”
Petya rubbed his hands, pleased as if he’d already gotten consent: “Mother, I knew you wouldn’t leave me in trouble! Just five hundred thousand are needed.”
“Just?” she repeated sarcastically. “And when did you manage to earn that money?”
Then Pyotr flushed like a tomato. In the year and a half since their return, neither he nor his wife had found steady work. They looked for easy ways, dreamed of wealth, but did nothing to achieve it.
“I thought you’d give it…”
“And how did such an idea come to you? I earned that money through my labor, didn’t get it for nothing. To anyone, even to my son, I won’t give it easily.”
“But I am your son!”
“Exactly why I want you to learn to value money. You know, even if Vanya asked, I would think twice. Because he has a mind, a desire to work, and a striving for something more than just a handout.”
These words hurt Pyotr deeply. He said many hurtful things to his mother, but the conversation was interrupted by a sudden quarrel that Ivan, returning from school, overheard by chance. Without extra words, he pushed his father out of the room, gave grandmother some valerian, and gently said:
“Don’t cry, Ba. I have six months of study left, then practice. And after practice, you and I—we can go anywhere in the world!”
Alla Sergeyevna smiled, stroking her grandson’s hair, though she understood she no longer had the strength for such journeys. But Vanya didn’t give up, always found words to support her.
Then Ivan left for another city. He called often, told of his successes, that soon he could take her with him. But Alla Sergeyevna just waved it off, thinking she no longer cared where to go.
And now—bound hands, cold floor, darkness, and betrayal. How could it have come to this? After all, this was her son, her own flesh and blood! Because of money?
Alla Sergeyevna decided—she would no longer fight. She would simply wait until it was over. No one knew how much time passed—an hour or a day. She lost track of time. Her head was pounding, thoughts confused. And suddenly she heard voices. Were they back? To finish her off for good?
She reached for the window, trying to see who it was. And saw a girl. She was walking through the forest, talking to her little dog.
“I won’t come back anymore! Better to live in the forest with wolves than with him!”
The girl sobbed, and Alla Sergeyevna, gathering her last strength, whispered:
“Daughter! Daughter, help!”
Her voice was barely audible, but the dog heard it. It began barking and ran toward the hut. The girl followed, frightened.
She was here for the first time but felt confident. Somewhere not far from here, she had spent her childhood. Her mother had recently remarried, and the new husband was the cause of all her troubles. After another conflict when her mother accused her of the worst things, the girl ran away. Left for good.
Seeing Alla Sergeyevna, she immediately ran up to her and untied the ropes. The woman’s hands were blue with pain.
“How do you feel?” Alenka asked, rubbing the elderly hands.
“Thank you… A sip of water…”
The girl brought water from the spring, and that water tasted like the best in Alla Sergeyevna’s life. She told her story, and Alenka sighed after listening:
“It can’t be worse than mine. Although my mother is my own, she believes a stranger’s husband and not me.”
“What shall we do? We need to get to people,” Alla Sergeyevna said.
“Why? You’ll wait until they torment you to death? I have no future either.”
They lived in the hut for a week. At night it was scary and cold, so they decided—it was time to leave. Alenka suggested going to her grandmother’s old house, several kilometers away.
“Will we make it? Won’t we get lost?” Alla Sergeyevna worried.
“We’re strong! What do we have to fear?”
But by noon it became clear—they had lost their way. They returned for the second time to the same tree. Alenka cried:
“I haven’t been here for a long time. Everything is overgrown, I don’t know where to go.”
“Oh, girl…” Alla Sergeyevna sighed. “Well, I don’t care anymore. But you need to live on.”
The nights were especially scary. Toshka barked incessantly. They slept in turns, tired and broken. In the morning they headed north, using moss on trees as a guide.
“Why is this forest so endless?” Alla Sergeyevna exclaimed.
“We keep going deeper,” Alenka replied. “I don’t know what to do.”
They slept a little. And when Alla Sergeyevna woke up, she realized—Alenka was sick. Fever, chills. Almost no water left. Toshka caught a mouse and ate it, but that was no solution for people.
Alla Sergeyevna found a puddle, made a compress, but her strength was leaving her. She cried—from despair, because a young girl with her whole life ahead was nearby, and she might die in this forest.
Toshka barked loudly. Alla Sergeyevna thought it was wolves. But suddenly a voice rang out:
“Grandma! Grandma!”
It was Vanya. Alla Sergeyevna couldn’t believe her ears.
“Vanyusha? Is that you? Am I dreaming?”
Her grandson hugged her tightly:
“Don’t cry, Grandma. Everything is good now.”
They left the forest. Alenka was helped, Alla Sergeyevna was given tea. Vanya carefully took care of them. Alenka was carried on a stretcher, Toshka sat in her arms and fell asleep.
“Grandson, how did you find me?” Alla Sergeyevna asked.
“Long story. Dad and mom left far away. If you don’t want to, you won’t see them again. I let them go. I couldn’t bring myself to send both behind bars.”
“That’s right, grandson. No need to take sin on your soul.”
When they returned home, Vanya continued to care for them. One day he said:
“Ba, Alenka often asks about Toshka. I decided to take him with me. He doesn’t know the city.”
Alla Sergeyevna smiled:
“We’ll live some more. And maybe even take care of great-grandchildren.”
