17

Leaf a day - the average month of autumn - this year stood out with severe frosts. Standing on the outskirts of the old buoy, Tamir absentmindedly watched the voracious waxwings feast on frozen mountain ash. Shrugging his shoulders, he looked down at his feet. There, at the bottom of the freshly dug grave, Donatos was preparing for the ceremony. Here he took out a knife from his belt and began to draw a continuous line on the turf walls, pronouncing the words of the spell. When the line converged and the circle closed, the sorcerer cut his left palm with the same blade soiled in the ground, sprinkled the pit with blood and quietly began to read a conspiracy that closed the path to the world of the living for the dead.

The words of repose sounded measuredly, the birds quarreling over a large bunch of berries shouted, a pregnant woman sobbed muffledly in the distance, covering her face swollen with tears with a corner of the cover. On the sides of the mother huddled two sobbing boys in