An elderly woman guided her two grandchildren further into the trees…

Night had already descended on the forest, reducing the trees to shadowy outlines. Most people had long since retreated to the warmth of their homes—perhaps nursing a hot cup of tea or preparing for bed. Yet, in the dim distance, three figures stirred among the darkness. An elderly woman guided her two grandchildren further into the trees.

“We’ve arrived!” Valentina Igorevna declared, her voice unnervingly bright. “I’ve been told you’re wicked, and you must be disposed of at once!”

The boy’s face knotted with confusion.
“Grandmother, why are we wicked?” he asked.

“Silence! You’ll turn into worms and consume others!” she snapped, then immediately softened, stroking their heads as tears welled in her eyes.

“Don’t worry—your mother will be grateful I’ve freed her from you,” she muttered, her tone chilling.

She lowered herself to the ground and began clawing at the soil with her bare hands. After hollowing out a small pit, she tossed in an old broom—its bristles pointing skyward as if to mark what was to take place there.

“Grandmother, I’m freezing… can we go home?” the girl pleaded, her voice trembling.

Those words seemed to awaken something inside Valentina. She burst into loud, manic laughter.
“No! You killed your mother—so you shall stay here forever! You’ll never return home!” she shrieked, then sprang to her feet and vanished into the pitch-black forest.

Anya collapsed into tears. Her brother slipped an arm around her shoulders and guided her down the path, each child shivering uncontrollably—their grandmother had dressed them as though for a warm afternoon, not a chilly night in the woods.

Meanwhile, at the town dump, Nadezhda had just finished sorting through refuse. She carefully set aside anything of value and loaded her findings into a rickety cart. Her small home sat at the edge of the forest, a solitary yet cherished place. Not long ago, she had married a man she desperately loved.

In reality, he was a drunk and a habitual liar, spinning tales about his days as a deep-sea ship’s captain. Nadezhda herself was industrious—working as a milkmaid on the collective farm and taking on extra chores whenever possible to ease their financial strain. But every kopek she earned was found by her husband and squandered in drinking bouts with his cronies.

Nadezhda had two young children, whom she often brought along to her jobs. Over time, her patience frayed. Even a woman of her strength could not endure his ceaseless drunkenness any longer.

Determined to break free, she filed for divorce and gathered the necessary papers. But she made one fatal error—she left the children behind. On that very day, one of her coworkers fell ill, forcing Nadezhda to cover her shift. Her husband remained home, appearing sober, while the children slept.

Yet as soon as Nadezhda departed, Nikolai returned to the bottle. In a drunken stupor, he sealed the chimney too soon, and the entire household was overcome by carbon monoxide.

Nadezhda could not endure the horror of that news—grief drove her to madness. She wandered the cemetery all day, her purpose lost, and soon turned to alcohol herself. Eventually, she was dismissed from her job and evicted. This descent led her to the dumpster.

One bleak evening, deep in despair, Nadezhda sought shelter in an abandoned factory, hoping to warm herself and brew some tea. Suddenly, the faint sound of a child’s cry reached her ears, and she paused to investigate.

Perched on a rotting stump were two small, ice-cold children. The boy tried coaxing his sister to rise and keep moving, but the girl refused.

“Children, how did you come to be here?” Nadezhda asked, astonished.

“We’re orphans… our grandmother abandoned us in the forest, saying we bring misfortune. And our mother… she died in the hospital. That’s how Anya and I wound up here,” the boy explained.

Nadezhda’s heart ached.
“Come with me. I’ll feed you, warm you. Don’t fear me. I once had children your age…I failed to protect them and lost them,” she sobbed.

The children shared a glance—what else did they have to fear? They rose and followed the woman deeper into the shadows.

Before long, they arrived at a dilapidated building that offered them warmth and refuge. Nadezhda laid the children down on tattered blankets, covering them snugly. She sat beside them, gazing at their peaceful faces as if they were her own kin.

“You’ve suffered enough,” she whispered. “As long as I breathe, you will not end up alone in an orphanage.”

Reaching into a hidden place, she retrieved her own children’s birth certificates and sat in contemplation. Only when dawn’s first light crept through the windows did she finally drift into a restless sleep.

At first light, Nadezhda washed, dressed, and took the children by the hand. Together, they walked toward the station—a new life awaiting them.

At the very moment the two children were left in the forest, their real mother, Liliya, was consumed by anxiety. Only twenty-six, she had been a remarkable beauty with many suitors, yet she chose Dmitry—a gentle, attentive man. She had recently graduated from university, taken a position as a kindergarten director, and had two beloved children.

Her mother, a powerful official in early childhood education, had helped her. But over time, Liliya’s husband changed. Upon tasting stability and wealth, he cast off his simple, sincere nature to become a self-centered playboy. When offered a job overseas, he left, promising to return for his family—a promise he never kept, vanishing from their lives forever.

Feeling guilt over her family’s collapse, Liliya’s mother turned to religion for solace. However, she fell victim to a cult’s influence, losing her mind and bequeathing all her possessions to so-called “spiritual mentors.” Liliya tried desperately to save her, but all efforts proved futile.

One day, returning from the kindergarten with her children, Liliya was struck by a motorcyclist at a crosswalk. Though her children escaped unhurt, Liliya was rushed into emergency surgery. Her foremost worry was for her grandchildren—how were they faring with their grandmother?

At that time, Valentina Igorevna had completely detached from reality, spending her days lost in “spiritual gatherings” and showing no concern for her grandchildren’s welfare for a full month.

Liliya realized that if she voiced her fears while hospitalized, social services would label her family as disadvantaged and remove the children. She didn’t yet fathom the catastrophe her mother had already wrought.

As soon as she felt well enough to leave the hospital, she rushed home—only to find that Valentina had sold off all their valuables. Her mother, now deranged, wandered the house naked and cackled for no reason. But the worst of it was that the children were gone.

When Liliya demanded to know where her grandchildren had vanished, her mother could only alternate between wailing and manic laughter. Desperate, Liliya had her admitted to a psychiatric hospital, where doctors diagnosed her with severe mental illness.

Over time, Liliya’s own health and spirit began to mend. She returned to work at the kindergarten. There were moments when she contemplated ending her life, but something within her held her back.

It was during this period that a woman named Nadezhda arrived at her preschool seeking work as a nanny. This was the same Nadezhda who had discovered the children abandoned in the woods.

Hoping to rebuild her life in the city, Nadezhda had disguised the children as her own and brought them to the interview. The moment Liliya saw her grandchildren, she fainted.

“Mommy! Our dear mommy!” the children cried, rushing forward to kiss her hands, her hair, her face.

Nadezhda stood bewildered, unsure of what had just occurred. Once Liliya learned the full story, she did not blame Nadezhda. Instead, she embraced her as family.

Two women, each having endured terrible trials, found in each other a wellspring of support, warmth, and solace. Liliya was reunited with her children, and Nadezhda became their second mother—the grandmother Daneka and Anechka had longed for.