ces finally pulled out of Setvastl

longer filled with the clatter of returning merchants or the laughter of children chasing chicke

s, though the smell of burnt dough was no longer masked by spices or song. But beneath ever

till bein

circling like patient v

nical hum that never quite faded. They hovered like ghosts in the sky, tracking every movement, m

asn't

for

impossible to stop-but after that, both the Russians and Ukrainians left us alone. As if wh

ones nev

bold Cyrillic letters-РОССИЯ-left little to guess. Russian drones.

of course-that they wer

d with a crooked smile that didn't touch his eyes. "Unknown

guar

yone in Setvastl still believed i

they think might slither out of our worn-out soil or broken homes

feared som

ng bene

ise like smoke th

en remnants of the so-called "myths" Uncle Tav always talked about. Others said the collection had gone wrong-

e

now what t

nstantly. From the sky and from

s, I could swear they paused directly above my house. The soft red light from their sensors woul

ching a silent machine float above my home li

eal threat wa

e foe who are dis