Since early morning, heavy snow had been steadily falling—thick and slow, like someone carelessly dumping flour from a shovel in the sky, indifferent to where it landed. A single car crept along a snow-covered country road, a tiny speck in the vast, frozen landscape. Inside, the wipers squeaked rhythmically, snow crunched beneath the tires, and a baby’s occasional sobs broke the stillness.

Igor clutched the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had gone pale. His eyes were fixed on the barely visible road ahead, obscured by the relentless blizzard. He hadn’t spoken in ten minutes. Beside him, Tatyana sat in tense silence—her shoulders slumped, lips drawn tight, eyes distant and vacant. She looked not just weary, but completely drained. The family had relocated to the village, hoping for a fresh start, a chance for Tatyana to regain her health…

“Maybe we should turn on the radio?” Igor finally broke the silence, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Why?” she answered dully, without turning her head. “To drown out the baby’s crying?”

Igor exhaled loudly.

“It’s starting again…” he whispered under his breath, then added a little louder: “I drive, I try. In this weather, and in your car, which always lets you down…”

“My car?” Tatyana asked bitterly. “Because you spent your money on cigarettes?”

The baby stirred and started crying again. Igor jerked the steering wheel sharply, feeling growing irritation inside.

“Great. We arrived in the village, started all over again – and you immediately hit me on the head. Maybe it would be better to keep quiet? At least get to the destination in peace…

“Enough. Just… shut up,” Tatyana almost whispered, pressing her forehead to the window. She closed her eyes, and a tear slid down her cheek.

The car skidded a little on the turn, but Igor held it. An old house appeared behind the icy trees – blue, crooked, as if forgotten by time.

“Here is our destination,” he said, stopping at the edge of the field. “We’ve arrived.”

There was no road further – only snowdrifts and off-road.

Tatiana slowly got out of the car, hugging the baby in a blanket. Her steps were uncertain, like those of a person who no longer believes that the ground under her feet is reliable.

She took a couple of steps – and stumbled. The snow was deeper than it seemed. She squealed, fell to her knees, hugging the baby.

— What are you doing… — Igor rushed to her, taking her son from her arms. — Be careful! What’s wrong with you?

— Don’t scream… — Tatyana whispered. — Just don’t shake him…

— I know how to hold him myself, — he answered irritably, helping his wife to stand up. She walked on silently, with reddened eyes, leaning on her husband.

The house greeted them with silence. The creaking of the steps, the click of the lock, a cold gust of wind — and snow that had to be cleared away with your hands. The key entered the rusty keyhole with difficulty.

— Well, I’ll be… — Igor shook the door, exhaling steam. — Don’t let me down now, you old wreck…

Finally the lock gave in. They entered the darkness.

The smell of mold, dust and dampness hit their noses at once. In the light of the phone, scattered sacks, scraps of rope, and grain were visible. Everything was covered in a gray film of abandonment.

“Oh God…” Tatyana whispered. “Are we going to live here?”

“For now,” Igor answered briefly. “We’ll clean it out, and get used to it little by little…

He found a broom and a bucket and began to actively clean. Rustling, creaking floorboards, bangs—the sounds were more reminiscent of the noise on a sinking ship. But it worked.

— Let’s make a children’s room, — he said, not stopping cleaning. — This one. The radiators are old, but they work. The walls are intact. The windows are double-glazed.

— And the ceiling? — Tatyana asked doubtfully. — And the mold in the corner?

— We’ll wipe it down, dry it, insulate it. Just hold on, Tanya. For him, for his sake.

She didn’t answer. She just sat down on the sofa, wrapped in her coat.

The room had grown slightly warmer. Though the walls were cracked and peeling, one of them held a picture: the Nutcracker brandishing a sword, encircled by mice. A thought briefly crossed Igor’s mind, but he quickly brushed it aside.

— So much for your protector, Dimon, — he grinned, hammering a nail into the wall. — The Nutcracker is on guard.

Night fell suddenly, as if someone had flicked a switch. Everything around became gray and silent. Only a barely audible sound behind the wall made Tatyana shudder.

– Igor… Did you hear that?

– Probably mice, – he shrugged.

– No, there is someone… whining. Outside.

He listened. And indeed – a thin, drawn-out sound, breaking off every now and then, came from the snowstorm.

– I’ll check now, – he said and went out.

On the porch, in a snowdrift, sat a dog. Dirty brown, with a dark muzzle and eyes full of unspoken pain. She was shaking, her paws tucked in, her tail between her legs.

– What’s wrong with you? – Igor sat down. – You’ll freeze, stupid.

The dog raised his head. There was confidence in his gaze, as if he had come here and nowhere else.

— Let’s go, — Igor said quietly and motioned for her to come inside.

Lada ran into the house and immediately headed for the nursery. She went up to the crib and froze in her tracks.

—What the hell?! — Tatyana exclaimed in fear. — Take her away immediately! She’s going to the baby!

— Calm down, — Igor tried to convince her. — She’s friendly. Look — she’s barely even breathing. She’s just cold.

The day turned out to be busy: Igor insulated the windows, sealed the cracks, looked for sources of drafts. Quiet music came from the old radio, creating the illusion of coziness. The air was filled with the smells of wood, dust and something else – the house seemed alive, but only beginning to learn how to be a home.

Lada did not leave Dima’s side for a single step. Wherever Igor walked with the child in his arms, there she was – attentive, focused, with an unusually lively look.

— As if she were watching, — he muttered under his breath.

— It’s scary, — Tatyana responded from behind the curtain. — Dogs don’t behave like that. As if she’s waiting for something.

Igor went out onto the porch to smoke. The snow crunched under his feet, the frost tickled his skin. He took out a cigarette — and suddenly heard a rustle behind him. He turned around — Tatyana was standing in the doorway, wrapped in a shawl.

— Again? — his voice was shaking. — You promised to quit.

— Just nerves, — he tried to justify himself. — I can’t change my ways right away.

— You’re a father, — she said firmly. — And I trusted you.

He stubbed out the cigarette and trampled it in the snow. Anger was boiling inside her – at herself, at the village, at this house, at the dog that was looking at her from the darkness almost like a human.

That night, Tatyana woke up with the feeling of someone’s presence – too close, too real. Lada was sitting by the baby’s crib, tense as a string. The fur on the back of her neck was raised.

“Igor, wake up,” she whispered.

He winced, opening his eyes.

“What happened?”

“Look at her. She’s growling.”

Igor approached. Lada wasn’t paying any attention to him – her gaze was directed at the corner of the room. Her ears were pressed back, her teeth bared.

“Lada?” he called cautiously. “Hey… calm down.”

The dog didn’t move.

“Oh, God…,” Tatyana whispered. “What does she see?”

– Maybe you imagined it? – he tried to calm down. – Or it was a mouse. Or it’s nothing to worry about…

– Nothing to worry about?!” she flared up. – She stands there like a sentry and bares her teeth! Is that normal?!”

Igor was at a loss for words. He put his hand on her withers – Lada shuddered slightly, but did not retreat. He carefully led her into the hallway and closed the door.

– If you drive us all crazy, – he whispered to her, – you will spend the night in the barn.

The dog looked at him and followed him – but without tension.

The days flowed in a gray succession: porridge in the morning, a snowstorm outside the window, a child’s cry, Tatyana’s cough… And always nearby – Lada. Part of the house, like the floor or the walls.

Another morning was gloomy. The snow became dirty gray, as if it was losing its meaning. Igor stood by the porch, crumpling a rag in his hands. His eyes stung from lack of sleep, his chest ached dully. He felt that something was wrong in the house. As if the air had thickened, and it was hard to breathe.

In the barn, he noticed something fallen. He went over. A chicken. Dead, mangled. Feathers torn out, neck broken. Large footprints in the snow. Blood.

“Lada…” he whispered.

The dog came out from around the corner. Its tail was down, its muzzle was dirty. There were crimson spots on its fur. It froze. It didn’t growl or squeal. It just looked straight into his eyes.

“What have you done…” Igor exhaled.

Tatyana followed him out.

“What are you doing there?” she asked and saw the carcass. She stepped back. “Is this… her?”

— Looks like it.

— Oh, my God… I told you! And you were protecting her! And now this!

— Maybe it wasn’t her…

— Her face is bloody, Igor! — her voice broke. — She growls at night, watches the child, and now she’s killed a chicken! And what if tomorrow it’s Dima?!

— Tanya…