She lived quietly, with no particular worries—she even managed to get married. And then everything collapsed in an instant: I became a widow—without money, without status, and without support. From the inheritance—only a dilapidated little cottage somewhere beyond the Urals. But no one had warned me that in this “my” hut, the master of the local forests had already moved in—the king, as they call him locally, and a bear, in essence. And now the main question isn’t how to settle in, but how to get out. The only problem is this: it looks like nobody is planning to let me leave from here!
***
“Who are you? How did you get here?” a man’s voice rumbles over me, and white whiskers loom before my eyes.
“Don’t growl at me, you old codger!” I snap, half asleep. “I can’t stand being woken up!”
“Snegurochka, I’ll put your bare butt out into the snow right now if you don’t open your mouth immediately and explain how you ended up in my house!”
They yank me out of a warm bed and shake me properly by the shoulders.
“Listen, you overgrown bear! This is my house!” I hiss. “Get your hands off me, or else I… ”
“And or else what?” this “old codger” smirks, quite shamelessly looking me over—and for a second I’m at a loss for words. “Go on then. And afterward you’ll do me an unexpected overnight stay, Snegurochka. It’s New Year’s, after all!”