“Hey, what’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?”—something knocks inside.
“He’ll die now, do you understand?” She looks at me with teary eyes. “Because of that bastard! He got drunk, started a brawl, and they kicked us out. And they didn’t pay us anything. And I was hoping for that money, and time is almost gone. Where am I supposed to get a million?!”
“Who will die? Why? What million?” I’m at a loss for the first moment as I hear her disjointed story.
The Snow Maiden sniffles and hides her face again in white mittens. She shakes her head. And I understand: this is serious.