Natalya, a woman of respectable age, as always, opened her eyes long before dawn — when the sun hadn’t even thought of appearing on the horizon yet. For many decades, she was used to greeting the morning first: in the village, you simply cannot relax. Laziness doesn’t go unnoticed here — whether it’s milking the cow, weeding the beds before the heat, or finishing up household chores. Everything is scheduled from the night before.
But today, it was not the care of the household that acted as her alarm clock. The house had long been running on its own: two young daughters-in-law skillfully managed all the affairs, and her sons were not the type to idle about. Natalya could have allowed herself a little more rest, but the old habit of getting up at the crack of dawn stayed with her. She simply liked this quiet, pre-dawn time, when the whole world still sleeps, and you are alone with yourself. You could calmly knead dough, bake bread or buns, set the table for breakfast — as if life was worth living just for this.
But that morning, her thoughts were occupied by something else. The day before, her neighbor Klavdiya had boasted about a rich haul of mushrooms — a basket full of birch boletus, woolly milk-caps, chanterelles, and russulas. That caught Natalya’s attention. She decided — I’ll go to the forest too, maybe luck will smile on me.
Quickly setting the table, putting on simple clothes, and taking an empty basket, Natalya headed for the door. Everything around was shrouded in silence — no creaks, no conversations, only roosters crowing, testing their voices. The woman walked along the familiar path, past the last houses hiding at the edge of the woods.
“Natash, where are you off to so early?” a voice suddenly sounded nearby.
Natalya jumped and sharply turned around.
“You scared me half to death, Ivanych!” she exhaled, recognizing the neighbor — a lonely middle-aged man, whose character was, of course, peculiar, but kind in his own way.
“Well, I was waiting for you,” he smirked, adjusting his mustache. “I wanted to find out where my favorite neighbor goes for her daily exercise. Your Danila’s been gone for a long time, but you’re still the same… lively one.”
“Misha, you’ve completely lost your mind,” Natalya snorted, but a sly look flashed in her eyes. “We’re almost the same age! And I doubt any dates await us. I’m just going for mushrooms. Before others rush in.”
“Ah, I see,” he nodded. “So Klavdiya’s basket inspired you? I’ve been itching to go for a long time too. Only no one to share it with. You at least live with family, and I’m alone as a finger.”
“Your own fault,” Natalya sighed, her gaze softening slightly. “After Marusya, you didn’t think about anyone else. And so many girls used to follow you!”
For a moment, pain flickered in Mikhail’s eyes. He looked away.
“Well, alright, Nikitichna,” he said, “go before they take everything. Soon people will come from other villages too.”
“You’re like water on fire — just say a word, and you flare up,” Natalya grumbled. “I just reminded you. Okay, goodbye.”
She picked up her basket from the ground and walked on without looking back. Mikhail watched her go, shook his head:
“Curious magpie… Wants to know everything…”
He remained standing by the fence, looking long in the direction where the neighbor disappeared, and sighed heavily. How could he talk about what had hurt inside him all these years?
Mikhail loved Marusya with all his soul. They were happy together. But they had no children. Once, that was considered something insurmountable. Marusya believed a miracle would happen. And it almost did.
For nine months, they prepared for the child’s birth. Mikhail literally carried his wife in his arms. But it all ended tragically — premature birth, surgery… Neither she nor the baby survived.
Since then, he withdrew into himself. Grief became his second “self.” He moved to the village where Marusya grew up and shut himself within four walls. People saw him as a strange, silent man. Only Natalya did not let him disappear completely — she often dropped by, teased him, spun different stories, as if she knew everything about his past.
One day, a stranger showed up at his place. Asked to spend the night. Mikhail agreed. Half an hour later, terrible screams came from the house. What happened there — no one knows. In the morning, the man left, and Mikhail remained as if nothing had happened. Just as silent, just as lonely.
Sometimes other people came to him too. Unknown, quiet. And again, screams were heard. Horrible, heartbreaking. But no one dared to ask directly. Everyone just tried to keep their distance, as if Mikhail carried something terrible, inexplicable within him.
Natalya still thought about Mikhail as she briskly walked toward the forest. It seemed to her as if someone was watching from behind — a gaze so cold and persistent that goosebumps ran down her skin. She was almost sure: it was Ivanych watching her from afar. But as soon as familiar birch bolete caps flickered in the thicket, the anxiety vanished without a trace. Mushrooms! That was why it was worth waking up before everyone else.
With every mushroom she found, her hunter’s instinct awoke inside. Natalya loved the “quiet hunt” — she could wander the forest for hours as if in a trance, losing sense of time and space.
She got so engrossed that she didn’t notice she had wandered too far — into places local mushroom pickers tried to avoid. Only when her foot unexpectedly sank into soft, sticky swamp did she come to her senses.
“Lord, have mercy!” the woman gasped, hastily stepping back. “This is the Wolf Swamp… How did I get here? Well, Natalya, you really got carried away, as they say…”
She hadn’t even turned around when an icy chill ran down her spine — as if an invisible hand touched her back. Her heart pounded. From the depths came a strange, prolonged moan. The woman shuddered, stepped back frightened — and at that moment heard someone’s agonizing scream of pain.
“Is there anyone here?!” she called out, tensing her whole body.
From the bushes came a weak voice:
“Help… Please…”
Natalya felt everything inside her tighten. Fear, curiosity, compassion — all mixed in one moment. Looking around, she noticed a strange movement among the hummocks. Approaching closer, she realized: it wasn’t a hummock but a person stuck to the neck in the mire.
“Hold on! I’ll pull you out!” she exclaimed, quickly placing the basket on dry ground and rushing to help.
Freeing the person was not easy — the swamp held him as if unwilling to let go. But Natalya did not give up. After about ten minutes, she managed to pull the woman onto firm land. She was covered in mud, trembling, and crying.
“You’re not a man at all! Who are you anyway? Where did you come from?”
“I… don’t remember,” the stranger croaked. “No name, no face… nothing…”
“That’s something,” Natalya frowned. “Alright, no time to lose. Come with me to the village, we’ll figure it out there. Can you walk?”
The woman shook her head:
“No… My back hurts. My legs won’t obey…”
“So what now — should I leave you here?” Natalya snorted. “Let’s go slowly. We’ll find a stick — you can lean on it. It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with this.”
They moved back slowly and painfully. Natalya supported the stranger with one hand, dragged the baskets with the other. At some point, strength began to leave her.
“We need to rest,” she sighed, falling onto the grass. “Everything aches already. And you’re trembling with pain. Come on, say something. You’re from the city, right? Your clothes don’t look ours — sneakers, jacket, backpack. Maybe your family is looking for you?”
“I don’t remember anything,” whispered the woman.
“Yeah… this is serious. I’ll run to the village, get help. Meanwhile, you move slowly in that direction — see the hill? The road is behind it. Take my scarf, so they notice you right away.”
Natalya took off the white scarf and handed it to the woman:
“I won’t abandon you. I just have no strength left.”
After a couple of hours, barely lifting her feet, she reached the road. And as if on purpose — the first person she met was Mikhail. He was carrying hay on a cart, driving an old horse.
“Wow, who do I meet!” he smirked. “Nikitichna, where have you been? You think wolves don’t eat such tasty morsels?”
“Misha, this is no joke!” Natalya exclaimed. “I found a woman in the swamp. Not from here. She lost her memory. Help!”
Mikhail immediately became serious. Learning where the girl was, he turned the horse in the right direction.
“You go home,” he said. “Family must be worried. I’ll take her myself.”
Natalya nodded and went home, glancing back. Mikhail soon noticed the white scarf in the twilight. He rode up and called out:
“Is that you? Natalya sent me.”
The woman looked at him fearfully but whispered:
“Thank you…”
“Get on, you’ll thank me later,” he grumbled, helping her onto the cart.
With effort, he lifted her into the hay, and the woman, gritting her teeth from pain, settled among the fresh summer hay. The smell was so familiar that she involuntarily relaxed.
When they reached his house, Mikhail carefully helped her down and led her to the door.
“Come in,” he said. “I’ll return the horse to the owner — it’s not mine. An old man got sick, I’m taking hay to him. Rain is coming tomorrow, need to hurry.”
He smiled under his mustache:
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back — we’ll have dinner.”
The woman nodded, looked at him gratefully, and heavily sat down on the porch steps. She had no strength left.
When Mikhail returned home, he found an unexpected scene: Natalya sat next to the woman on the steps, gently, almost motherly, stroking her shoulder, trying to calm her.
“Oh, there you are, Ivanych,” she stood up to greet him. “Listen, I’d take her to my place, honestly. But we’re cramped — no room to sit or turn around. I told her you’re a kind and reliable man. Let her not be afraid.”
Mikhail’s face darkened, he cast a brief glance at Natalya and the guest, and said quietly:
“We’ll handle it quietly. Okay, Nikitichna, go home. She needs rest now. Come by tomorrow — maybe she’ll come to her senses.”
Natalya pouted displeased — his tone clearly did not please her. She was about to remind him who saved the woman from the swamp when Mikhail was already supporting the girl by the arm and leading her into the house, leaving the neighbor alone on the porch.
Shrugging and grumbling to herself, Natalya turned and walked away.
Inside the house, Mikhail helped the woman wash, brought clean clothes — garments long stored in a chest. These were the clothes of his late wife. When the woman changed, he led her to the kitchen, carefully seated her at the table, and went to the stove where a pot of food was simmering.
“I’ll fix dinner now,” he said, stirring the stew. “Maybe you’ll tell me who you are and where from?”
“I don’t know…” she sighed painfully. “Everything’s like in a fog. Alive — but my mind is empty…”
She suddenly looked at her shirt, smoothed the hem, and quietly asked:
“Are these… your wife’s clothes?”
“Yes,” Mikhail nodded. Paused a little and added calmly: “I had Mashenka… She’s gone.”
The woman pondered as if recalling something. Suddenly she spoke:
“I’m also… my name is Maria too. Masha. You said ‘Mashenka’ — and something clicked in my head. I remembered my name.”
Mikhail smiled for the first time that evening — truly, sincerely.
“Well, that’s a start. So not all is lost. Maybe soon the rest will come back. But for now — let’s eat.”
But the night was restless for Mikhail. He couldn’t sleep for a long time, listening to rustlings behind the wall where Maria tossed on the old bed. Thoughts jumbled, heavy, unpleasant, but the man kept them inside, not letting them out.
The morning was cold. Mikhail got up with the first rays of the sun, put on the kettle, and bustled in the kitchen when Maria, staggering, entered the room.
“So, did it get easier during the night?” he asked.
“No… Still hurts,” she complained. “Especially my back. Arms and legs feel foreign. I can’t even bend — everything aches…”
“That’s the thing,” Mikhail nodded. “Come with me.”
He led her to another room where there was a wooden bench covered with an embroidered towel and pointed to it:
“Sit down. I’ll be back soon.”
A minute later he returned holding a wooden mallet and a short stake sharpened at one end.
“Take off your shirt and lie on your stomach,” he said calmly. “Don’t be afraid. I’m, you could say, a village bonesetter. Even people come from the city to me. Only here they don’t like to talk about it — everyone thinks I’m just a weirdo.”
He smirked.
“My grandfather did this, then my father. I learned everything from them. I’ll help you, honestly. Lie down, Masha. You have nothing to lose, and it won’t get worse.”
Maria looked at him cautiously but obeyed. Taking off her jacket, she carefully lay down on the bench, stretched out her arms. Mikhail put a folded towel on her back, placed the stake on a point between the vertebrae, and with one sharp blow caused the woman to scream wildly.
The pain pierced her body like a thunderclap. Maria jerked, but Mikhail gently but firmly held her. He worked methodically — blow after blow, going along the spine, feeling each displaced vertebra, each hidden clamp.
That very evening, Natalya approached Mikhail’s house. Curiosity tormented her — she was eager to find out how the woman she pulled out of the swamp was doing. Having climbed the porch, she was about to knock when suddenly she heard a desperate female scream from inside.
Natalya paled. Without thinking a second, she turned and rushed to the local policeman — convinced that the neighbor had finally lost his mind and was torturing the poor woman.
The police arrived quickly. They were prepared for the worst — blood, tears, horror… But what they saw inside surprised them. At the kitchen table, Mikhail and his guest sat calmly, drinking tea, even laughing.
“You should have seen him with that mallet!” the woman still sniffled with laughter, wiping tears. “I thought it was the end for me! And now… thank you! I can raise my hands, and my back hardly hurts!”
Mikhail just nodded:
“It will only get better every day. Just do as I say — and you’ll stand on your feet for good.”
The policeman looked around the room puzzled:
“So what’s going on here?”
When Mikhail realized why the police came, he just shook his head and began to explain everything calmly, like a man. Hearing the story, the policeman addressed the woman:
“Is this true?”
“Yes, that’s how it was,” she confirmed, looking him straight in the eyes.
The policeman frowned, studying her face carefully, and suddenly said:
“Wait… You are Maria Kulikova? Your husband is looking for you. There were announcements everywhere. But you live in a completely different region. How did you end up here?”
Maria sighed deeply and firmly:
“He brought me here himself and abandoned me. Sergey started seeing someone else, and I became a burden to him. He decided that without help and with a sore back, I wouldn’t survive in this swamp. Just left me to die like an old thing.”
“But why did you agree to go with him?” the policeman didn’t understand.
“He said he wanted to arrange a romantic walk,” she smiled bitterly. “I had no idea… When he led me deep into the forest and just left, leaving me alone, I realized: it was not a walk, but a trap.”
Mikhail looked at her thoughtfully:
“So you didn’t lose your memory?”
“No,” she shook her head. “I just didn’t want to remember anything. Wanted to forget everything. But I won’t go back to him. He wanted me dead.”
A voice full of mocking sympathy came from the doorway:
“Such a scoundrel should be punished.”
“Well, here comes the magpie!” Mikhail snorted, seeing Natalya enter. “Maybe next time, stop by to see me before troubling the whole village?”
“Ivanych, forgive me!” Natalya spread her hands. “I thought you were torturing her there! She was screaming, you could hear it for miles! But you’re healing! And anyway, it was about time you said you could do this! My back has been aching for years…”
Everyone laughed — even Maria smiled through her exhaustion.
“Alright, Nikitichna, I’ll take care of your back too,” Mikhail promised. “You’ll feel like new — you won’t recognize yourself!”
Meanwhile, the policeman continued:
“Maria, we have to take you home. But first, we need to file a report against your husband. He thought if he reported you lost in the city, no one would look for you two hundred kilometers from home…”
The woman shook her head:
“I can’t. I’m afraid of him. He might snap.”
“Then let her stay with me for now,” Mikhail said firmly. “But she’ll write the statement anyway. People must answer for their actions.”
“Just let me call my parents,” Maria asked. “Let them know I’m alive.”
Three days later, Maria’s mother and father arrived at Mikhail’s house. They were simple, kind people, filled with gratitude. They stayed for several days, helped around the house, went to the forest with Natalya — for mushrooms and just to be in nature. In the evenings, they had long talks at the common table, laughed, and drank tea.
Meanwhile, Sergey was found. He was questioned, and the trial promised to be strict — the charge was serious.
When it was time to say goodbye, there were tears, hugs, and words of deep gratitude. After they left, the house again fell into its usual silence.
One evening, Natalya, sitting next to Mikhail on the bench, carefully asked:
“Listen, Ivanych… Will she stay with you? Forever?”
“Who?” he was surprised.
“Maria, who else!” Natalya smiled. “I thought, well, maybe a wedding will follow.”
Mikhail laughed:
“Come on, Natasha. She’s young, beautiful. She has her own path. And I have mine. And my heart has always belonged to one — my Marusenka. I can’t be otherwise. I won’t betray her.”
Natalya looked down:
“I understand… Sorry, I said too much. I just feel sorry for you.”
“Don’t pity me,” he smiled. “I’m quite happy. In my own way. And with a neighbor like you, I never get bored. One day a swamp castaway, the next police…”
“All right, all right, I’ve apologized a hundred times already!” Natalya snorted. “And you really can fix backs?”
“I can,” Mikhail nodded. “Tomorrow morning I’ll go to the forest, and then we’ll deal with your aches.”
“To the forest? Why?” she didn’t understand.
“I’ll gather nettle. For people like you, troublemakers, it quickly sets the mind right. Just a little tickle — and you’ll run like a young one!”
“Are you crazy?!” Natalya’s eyes went wide. “I believed you!” — but seeing Mikhail bursting out laughing, she laughed too. “Oh, you joker, Ivanych…”
“I know,” he smirked. “You can’t get away. But it’s okay, I’ll heal you. Promise.”
Natalya smiled warmly. Now she felt she could rely on Mikhail. And somewhere deep inside, she understood — she would no longer let him be alone. Because he is a good man.
