But that same night, something scratched at the walls. Not mice. Not rats. Something bigger. Then—shattering glass. Igor rushed outside to find Lada standing over a grotesque, cat-sized rat, its yellowed teeth bared in death. Tatyana fell to her knees, trembling. “She wasn’t killing chickens for sport. She was protecting us.”
The Unseen Enemy – Winter deepened. The scratching in the walls grew louder. Dima woke screaming, tiny fists clenched, as if fighting off something invisible. Tatyana’s cough returned. Then, one midnight, the window shattered inward. No rock. No branch. Just a force—something pushing its way inside.Lada lunged, snarling, driving it back.
Outside, Igor found footprints—too large, too human, yet not human at all—leading into the forest. And Lada’s pawprints, trailing after them. The Final Guardian – Years passed. The house became a home. Dima grew strong. A baby sister was born. Lada, ever watchful, aged gracefully. Her steps slowed, but her eyes stayed sharp—always scanning the treeline, always listening.
Then, one winter morning, she didn’t rise. They buried her beneath the birch tree behind the house, where wildflowers bloomed each spring. And sometimes, when the wind howls just right, Tatyana pauses, listening. A soft patter of paws on the floorboards. A warmth near the crib. A guardian, still keeping watch. The End.