"Daniel, this isn't for me; it's for you," Baba Songolik said with a pleased tone, blocking the golden light from the doorway. Daniel almost swallowed a couple of small nails he had in his mouth for convenience. He looked around the stable, then gripped the hammer more tightly, as if it were a weapon.

"W-who?" His voice was hoarse. Spitting the nails onto the floor, he reluctantly turned toward the exit, trying to figure out his next move. He must have looked a bit crazy because Baba Songolik quickly said.

"Darima, Zorigto's granddaughter. She's here to visit. Put the hammer down, Daniel."

"Why would she need me?" He didn't quite believe the threat was over, but his voice was steadier.

"I said, put the hammer down. And put on a T-shirt," Baba Songolik ordered firmly, leaving no room for objections. "She needs to go to the store, but Zorigto won't let her go alone."

"I should finish the stall," Daniel began, but Baba Songolik, after a skeptical look at his rough repairs, dismissed his resistance. "Zorigto will finish it. Well, Daniel, it's clear you've never worked with your hands."

"The project's still in progress," Daniel replied wearily. "So don't judge it by how it looks now. When I finish, it'll be good. I've modernized an outdated design to..."

"It's rude to keep a guest waiting," Songolik interrupted, turning away. "We haven't had sausage in a while, so you can pick some up."

Daniel grumbled but put on a damp T-shirt and followed his hostess. The guest, wearing a wide-brimmed hat, waited under the porch's shade, tapping her brown legs in sneakers against the railing. She jumped into the thick grass as Daniel approached, letting out a frustrated sound at the sight of him. Daniel looked down at his tattered T-shirt, sweaty and stained, and smirked into his scruffy beard, ruffling his hair. He wasn't keen on going to the store just to please a demanding girl; he'd rather finish the stall.

Darima, crossing her arms protectively, muttered.

"Grandpa's still in the house."

As if summoned, Zorigto shuffled out, smiling broadly and showing yellow teeth. "Oh Daniel, go with him. It's not safe for her to go alone. There were some rowdy men in Shanaghan the other day, they were harassing girls. You will be safe with him. Right?" he said, seeking Songolik's agreement.

"Right. Daniel will wash and change while we have tea," she added, narrowing her eyes at Daniel as if daring him to object. "Meet Darima, Daniel."

Daniel sighed and mirrored Darima's sigh of reluctance. They didn't protest - the local custom was not to argue with elders.

"Nice to meet you," Daniel said and heared a similarly unenthusiastic reply. He headed to the banya to rinse off. Inside, he was surprised to find a clean towel and fresh clothes, including recently washed sneakers and a razor. He considered shaving but dismissed the idea, inspecting his reflection briefly: overgrown curls, a scraggly beard, and sunburned skin.

"Handsome," he said sarcastically.

When Daniel re-entered the house, Darima stood up and, seeing an opportunity, said.

"Thank you, Baba Songolik. Does he have bike? I'll ride my bike."

"I usually run," Daniel grumbled, but Baba Songolik was firm. "No, you'll take Van'ka's bike. It's in the barn." She dismissed his complaints.

The bike was a relic with a wobbly cracked leather seat. Daniel accepted it without protest and refused money from Songolik, who listed the items he was to buy, including some for himself. Darima, meanwhile, prepared for the ride, wrapping herself in protective gear. Daniel checked the bike chain - it was surprisingly well-maintained, a testament to Songolik's care.

"Two sticks of smoked sausage, half a stick of smoked cheese, two loaves of black bread, a pack of bay leaves, and three packs of Akhmat tea," Baba Songolik listed, counting off on her fingers. "Oh, and get yourself a pack of 'majo' and some coffee." The familiar local term "majonnaise" mixed into her otherwise perfect speech gave him a bit of comfort.

Meanwhile, Darima, having overheard her grandfather, was preparing to leave. She tightened the straps of her wide-brimmed tourist hat, pulled on cloth gloves, and tucked their edges into the sleeves of her long-sleeve shirt. To Daniel, with her naturally darker skin, the gear seemed unnecessary; she was unlikely to get sunburned. Noticing her annoyed glance, he bent down to check the bike chain, which was well-oiled and not rusty. Baba Songolik must have been preparing for his visit.

They rode along the unmarked roads, with Darima leading and Daniel trailing behind, swallowing the reddish dust kicked up by her bike. He found the experience unpleasant, wishing he could be running through the woods alone rather than on this errand to please her grandfather. He suspected they'd be in the store for a while, buying everything on the list.

They entered the store without exchanging a word since leaving the house. Darima filled her backpack quickly and left without waiting, which Daniel found rude. He swiftly gathered his own items, adding chips, saltine crackers that had surprisingly appeared in stock, and a can of Coke. After a moment's hesitation, he grabbed another Coke, paid for his items, and stepped out into the dry heat.

"Is that for me?" Darima asked, her cheeks puffed in surprise as she accepted the cold can. "Thanks! Want to sit over there?" She pointed to a shady gazebo under some pine trees.

"Sure, let's go," Daniel agreed, unlocking his bike and following her. His heavy backpack poked at him, and the old bike creaked as he rode, the hard seat making the ride uncomfortable. In the gazebo, Darima nimbly set aside empty bottles and perched on the edge, her feet on the dirty bench. Daniel followed suit, his habit of mimicking local behavior kicking in before he realized it.

"Are we allowed to sit here?" he asked.

"Why not? Just like us, people sit here all the time," Darima responded, taking a deep gulp of her Coke. "This is nice!" she sighed contentedly before abruptly changing the subject. "How old are you? How long will you be staying here? You're from Moscow, right?"

Caught off guard, Daniel choked on his drink, spilling some on his clean shirt.

"I'm twenty-five. From Moscow. Just a couple more months. How about you?"

"I'm nineteen," Darima said, raising her eyebrows in disbelief. "Only twenty-five? I thought..." She paused, embarrassed.

"Thirty?" Daniel guessed, not feeling insulted.

"More like thirty-five," she corrected, then quickly added, "Thirty-three to be exact!"

Daniel scratched his beard, puzzled. He knew he didn't look great, but being mistaken for that much older felt like a bit much. Maybe he should shave more often, he mused, but the thought was fleeting. What did it matter what people thought, anyway?

"Shall we head back?" Daniel suggested, finishing his drink and looking for a trash can.

"I'm sorry if I offended you," Darima said, jumping down to the ground. "I didn't mean to." She smiled apologetically. "You're not offended, are you?"

"No, not at all," Daniel shrugged. "I don't care about looks. The locals are used to it." Darima walked beside him, seemingly trying to process his indifference to his appearance.

They returned to the village in the same order, with Darima leading. When they reached her house, she unexpectedly suggested.

"Why don't we go mushroom hunting tomorrow? I've been here for five days and I'm tired of swimming and gardening. It'll be something new."

"I still need to finish the stall," Daniel sighed, noting her disappointed expression.

"You're upset," Darima observed sadly. "Well, if you change your mind, come by. I'll be here for another month before school starts."

"You didn't want to come here?" Daniel asked, immediately regretting the question.

"Who would want to spend a month in the village? There's no entertainment, no young people. But my grandfather refuses to stay with us for long, so I come here to visit him. It's just a pity," she explained, then added, "If you want, you're welcome to come by. We can chat."

"Maybe another time," Daniel replied cautiously. "I need to finish the stall..."

Baba Songolik greeted him with a mysterious expression, clearly eager for gossip but disappointed by what she saw. After a brief inspection, she let him go to the stable. Inside, Daniel saw that Zorigto's grandfather had dismantled his changes and was skillfully completing the stall in the old-fashioned way. Daniel silently grabbed another hammer and joined in, feeling that at least he had tried.