“Never,” Fyodor promised.
Sasha blossomed into a kind, respectful young man. He worked hard at school and eventually entered military training—rare in their small village. Fyodor and his wife were deeply proud. Sasha returned home on holidays not to relax, but to help his parents. Later, due to illness, he was discharged from service. He grew quieter over time, and his health deteriorated. Tragically, he passed away, and soon after, Fyodor’s wife also passed, leaving him alone.
On this morning, Fyodor stepped outside with Buyan, his loyal dog of many years. Buyan, now old and slow, mirrored Fyodor in many ways.
“Shall we go visit Sashenka?” he asked the dog. Buyan wagged his tail, understanding the sentiment.
As they walked through the village, neighbors greeted him kindly.
“Should you be doing all that work yourself?” asked Marya Stepanovna.
“Well, there’s no one else to ask,” Fyodor replied with a faint smile.
Reaching the cemetery, he noticed signs of a recent storm—branches scattered across the ground. As he began cleaning, Buyan suddenly started to dig near the old fence. He barked and whimpered, drawing Fyodor’s attention.
Beneath the soil, Fyodor discovered a small cardboard box. To his shock, something inside moved. He opened it and found a tiny baby girl, wrapped in cloth, barely making a sound.
Realizing the urgency, he scooped her up and rushed to the home of Olga Sergeyevna, the village’s retired medic. Buyan ran ahead, barking nonstop. Fyodor, though out of breath and aching, didn’t stop until he reached her door.
