The Rat and the Truth
Tensions rose after Lada killed one of the chickens. Tatyana, fearful, insisted the dog had to go.

But that night, the walls stirred with something far larger than rats. Then—a crash of glass.

Igor ran outside and found Lada standing over a monstrous rat, its body grotesque, its teeth long and yellowed. Tatyana dropped to her knees, shaking. “She wasn’t hunting. She was protecting us.”

The Unseen Enemy
As the winter deepened, the scratching behind the walls grew louder.

Dima woke from sleep screaming, his tiny fists clenched as if fighting something no one could see. Tatyana’s cough worsened again.

Then, one midnight, the window shattered—not from a branch, not from a stone, but from something forcing its way inside. Lada lunged with a snarl and drove it back.

Outside, Igor discovered footprints—strange, too big to be human, yet not quite animal—leading into the forest. Lada’s prints followed, trailing after.

The Final Guardian
The years went by. The house became a true home. Dima grew, strong and healthy.

A baby girl came along. Lada aged, her steps slower, but her eyes alert—always watching the trees, always listening for the sound that didn’t belong.

Then, one morning in winter, she didn’t get up. They buried her under the birch tree out back, where wildflowers bloomed with the spring.

Sometimes, when the wind howls through the trees just so, Tatyana stops what she’s doing. She listens.

A soft step on old floorboards. A gentle warmth near the crib. A guardian, still keeping watch.

The End.