In the corner of the room with the fireplace there is a chest. It is Miron's favorite place in the whole hut. The chest has many treasures in it and sometimes, when mother's not home, he dares to burrow through it. There is a real crossbow that his father used to hunt with. There are washed-out maps leading to places he has never seen. His mother says that the maps lead to other villages and that one day she will take him there. There is a pair of beautiful cowhide leather boots. His father took them from a traveling merchant for a white wolf's pelt. His mother promised him that he would get these boots when he gets older. Sometimes, when she cannot see him, he takes them out of the chest and strokes the smooth leather with awe. The contents of the chest are not the only reason he likes it so much.
The oaken chest is a perfect observation point. He climbs onto it, pulls his knees to his chest and watches. First he watched his father oil the crossbow with patience and focus. Since his father is gone he's been watching his mother do the same. He also watches Cudka as she looks after the fire in their hearth, cuts and dresses the meat of deers and hares his mother brings from her hunts and prepares various concoctions and powders from her plants and herbs. She always smiles faintly as she works. Sometimes the elder of the village or a neighbor comes to visit them, but most of the time there are only the three of them. Miron likes to watch anyway.
Today he sees that Cudka is anxious and sullen. She strolls back and forth with no real purpose. She looks into the cauldron that boils over the hearth and then gazes absent-mindedly through the window. His mother's absence must have something to do with it. Earlier, when he was playing near the well, his mother was cutting the deer she had shot the day before. Then she went somewhere, but Cudka did not want to tell him where. She told him to be good and wait, so he climbed onto his chest and kept striking his heels to its wall, waiting for his mother's return. He was just a tiny bit excited and scared at the same time. He had a feeling that day was special. With his mother's return something extraordinary was bound to happen.
As the time passed his excitement started to go out and he became sullen and disheartened. Now he looks impatiently towards the cauldron that smells of broth. His stomach is rumbling and the only thing he wants is to finally eat his supper, but his mother is not coming back and Cudka just keeps gazing through the window, stirring the broth with a ladle from time to time. Miron scrapes his eyes with his fists and yawns. He is tired and hungry. He wants his mother to come home.
He's already asleep, half-laying on the wooden chest, when the door to their hut opens. Alarmed with the sudden turmoil, he jumps up and blinks in confusion, scared and disoriented. His mother comes inside and says something to Cudka, who's suddenly very pale and her eyes grow wide and round. The blacksmith Otmar and his eldest son Chedrog, who once gave him an old horseshoe for luck, follow behind his mother. Their sudden visit is not what surprises Miron the most. The blacksmith and his son carry an unknown man in dirty, ripped clothes, grasping him by the armpits and the legs. Huffing and groaning, they throw him onto Cudka's bed. Then they talk quietly with his mother. She looks at them with her brow furrowed and her hands propped on her hips. Otmar points towards two swords she left by the wall. His mother scowls at him - Miron knows that she is angry, because she always frowns like that when he does something bad. She shakes her head and says something. The blacksmith looks unhappy as he leaves.
Miron climbs down from his chest and takes a few hesitant steps towards the bed. A distant memory flashes briefly in his mind - his father in the place of that stranger, murmuring something to his mother. His mother with a pale face and red stains on her hands and on her dress. Cudka with tears on her cheeks. Miron takes another step and tries to look at the stranger from behind his mother's skirt, but she crouches in front of him and covers his view.
"Miron, look at me", she asks quietly, with a calm voice, but when he raises his gaze to her, he sees worry in her eyes. "Go to your chest. Be quiet. I'll explain everything later".
Miron tries to look over her shoulder, but her gaze insistently calls him back to her, so he gives up. Hesitant, he nods and slowly strolls back towards his chest. He climbs onto it, folds his arms around his knees and watches.
His mother turns towards Cudka and says something with a very quiet voice. Cudka looks at her for a moment and Miron thinks she looks as if she was scared of something. Finally she turns back and goes to the other room. His mother opens the trunk with his father's things, takes out a shirt and starts to rip it to strips with a knife. After a moment Cudka comes back, carrying a wicker basket. She leaves it next to the bed, kneels down and starts to pull out many vials, bottles and clay vessels. The bitter smell of herbs and alcohol fills the air.
Cudka stands up and hesitantly leans over the stranger. Then she looks at his mother and says something in a low voice, slightly shaking her head. His mother puts away the strips of cloth she made from the shirt and says something sharp. Together they pull the stranger upwards and fumble to take off his jacket and blouse. Miron gulps loudly and curls into himself on instinct as he sees what is underneath these clothes. Ravaged to the bone, bloodied flesh frightens him. He climbs down from his chest and through the window he scrambles outside. He runs a few steps and stops, because a large, unfamiliar stallion tied to the hook in the wall blocks his way to the yard. Miron gazes at the horse for a moment in awe and confusion. Finally he comes closer and timidly raises a hand. The stallion shakes its head and neighs gently. The muscles on its neck quiver a little. A black, bead-like eye gazes at the boy, calm and curious. Miron touches the horse's auburn neck. Its fur shines lightly in the moonlight. He strokes the stallion for a while. This stranger seems less frightening than that wounded one inside the house, so he sits down next to him. He folds his arms around his knees and rests his chin on them. From time to time the horse's hot breath tickles the top of his head. The moon hides behind the clouds and the night becomes dark and silent. The only source of light is the window in the room where his mother and Cudka are trying to save that strange man.