The village seems dead to me. Nobody's around. Only the silly crows keep scaring me... and a pitiful howl pierces the echo of memories every time I walk past the shack. It seems like only my grandfather and I are left. For the past few days, Grandfather hasn't been feeling well. He's been coughing, having trouble breathing, and barely getting out of bed. Today, he asked me to help him in a barely audible voice - to prepare an herbal infusion that, as he said, always got him back on his feet. We didn't have the necessary herbs, so I went to look for them around the village. I went outside... everything seemed strange. A thick fog had descended upon the village, and it was empty. As I walked along the familiar streets, I heard the creaking of old gates and the rustling of leaves, but I didn't meet a single living soul. I started to feel uneasy - the village looked like nobody had lived there for a long time. I returned home, but the silence there was even thicker, even heavier. I tried to pray, like Mom taught me, but the words wouldn't come together in my head. Instead, I heard a whisper that crept into my mind and drowned out everything else. It said that my prayers were now meaningless, that prayers wouldn't save me from what had happened here. But what happened? I don't remember... I felt anxious inside... Why can't I calm down?