I got on the plane without any problems and the journey with all the transfers went surprisingly without delay, even the last four hundred kilometers on the highway by bus were unexpectedly comfortable. I haven't kept my eyes out of the window for the last hour. The bus braked, a sign appeared in front indicating the beginning of the village. I already recognized the individual words. Dragovo. I was coming… home.

We stopped at a tiny but modern station. I remembered my birthplace as a sleepy small hole in the foothills of the poor mountains, where there was a shortage of work and every penny. In the decade I have not been here, it has turned into a small, contemporary, picturesque and apparently prosperous city? The scenery was dominated by a tall house, which lacked only a few floors in the word skyscraper. But virtually all the buildings in the area were prettier than most of the human settlements I've ever known. In addition, sensitively harmonized with the original older buildings. Nice place. And this is where my pack lived. Someone preferred the words clan, family, kin, but in fact we were a pack. The term pack meant more than it seemed at first glance, and I didn't want to dive into the past, not that deep for sure. Even though it was because of her, because of the pack, that I was here.

The door closed, the engine started, and the bus drove to another step in a never-ending carousel of stops. Until it is eaten up by rust, or its engine is too worn out, or it becomes too old and uncomfortable for anyone to be willing to pay for its services. I shook off the sudden rush of melancholy and headed for the modern-looking mini-house with the words Information. I have been thinking about the language I will be speaking during the trip and I have been training my Ukrainian for the last few hours. I was doing quite well at the airport in Lviv.

"On vacation?" The attractive twenty-five-year-old woman asked behind the counter as I described my request.

"Something like that. I travel a lot during work and I need peace on vacation, preferably at home. I mean in Ukraine," I replied with a smile.

Hers was nicer and more professional. She recommended the hotel Sgor.

Why not.

I stayed without problems, the room was simply but modernly equipped and perfectly clean. From the small balcony it was easy to jump to the roof of the lower farm extension of the hotel. Simply, if you didn't mind five meters of vertical elevation and three meters of horizontal distance. I didn't.

For lunch, I headed to one of the restaurants in the square. I remembered that half of the houses used to have cracked and falling plaster, old window frames and granite cubes that paved the square with grass growing in many places. There were also a lot of them. Today, the square looked new like out of a box, a proof of prosperity and good times.

On the way, I stopped at a phone booth, where I surprisingly found a phone book and a local telephone directory in it. That made my job easier. I wrote down the numbers of all the names I remembered. Numbers of butchers, car mechanics, carriers, those were the professions we were good at. We used to be herdsmen and foresters. But times are changing, we have been able to adapt.

They did steak better here than in Scotland, I had two and a beer on top. If a murderous commando hadn't tried to kill me two days ago, I could have imagined that I really was on vacation.

At the bar, a pretty woman flickered, sporty, as if she had just returned from a walk in the hills. She exchanged a few words with the waiter, then disappeared again. She was pretty the way I always liked. Precise movements, in which the consciousness of one's own condition was hidden, spiced up with a trace of femininity here and there. Except she saved those during her visit at the restaurant. I also liked that. Her hair was the color of ripe chestnuts. Hair that falls to the ground and just breaks out of the ripe green skin, thorns of which are still very prickly. I didn't collect chestnuts - damn memories.

I did not return directly to the hotel, instead I walked around the town. I was looking for places where the members of the pack used to live. Old houses mostly disappeared and were replaced by rows of small family houses with gardens. The names on the bells didn't tell me anything. I had to rely on the addresses from the phone book. Too bad Evelyn didn't give me more clues, but she probably didn't have much time. And she must have been stressed.

In my room, I connected to the web, looked up the city's website and looked for links to local businesses, including advertising. Surprisingly, I did not find any self-employed websites that I copied from the phone book. That was very strange. It was different in local advertising. Butchers store Volk offered an older van for sale. Butchers store Volk. We used to try to make friends with butchers, today we have become them ourselves. I thought of Boris Volk as someone who has problems with self-control near raw meat, but he has probably changed. Or maybe the business was owned by his son, times goes by, and I have been gone for a long time.

I started looking systematically in the advertising pages for any further mention of Volk, Lisa and other surnames of the pack. Except for two very old ads, I didn't find anything. The memory of web search engines told me that until recently there was a website of the Volk and his son butchery, or the Kolonov car service. However, all were recently taken down. I didn't want to look into more details. I was not a professional in the world of the Internet and I was afraid of drawing attention to myself.

I pushed the laptop away and straightened my back until I could feel my spine cracking. I needed to think carefully about what to do next. And I also needed to stretch. The last few days of traveling by bus, plane and then bus again took their toll.

At the reception, I asked for a decent fitness center, put an exercise suit in my bag, as well as a hotel soap, towels, and set off.

* * *

The fitness center, construction of which was sponsored by Health Care Ltd., as the bronze plaque proudly proclaimed at the entrance, was located in one of the streets on the outskirts of the town overlooking the steep slopes and forests. The meadows were carefully mown, and the forests a few hundred yards higher looked better and healthier than I remembered.

Everything here was nicer. The only thing that smelled was a letter from Evelyn. And that the pack disappeared. At least that's how it looked so far.

The fitness center consisted of two squash courts, an aerobics gym and a hall filled with cycling and rowing simulators. The gym looked small and tucked away, but the appearance was deceiving. There were enough dumbbells, and everything came from a reputable company, where one did not have to worry that the twenty-five-kilo wheel would fall on his head.

"Would you like some help?" A bald guy nearly six feet tall asked, his shoulders so wide that he had to walk sideways through most of the doors.

"No, thanks. I am just here to stretch a bit," I refused.

I was wearing loose sweatpants and an even looser t-shirt, and they still didn't do much to hide the fact that I wasn't exactly a crumb.

"Understood, but should you need anything, I am here for you, it's my job after all."

"Thank you."

And it also seemed that hardcore strength training is his hobby. Or a horse.

The gym was empty, as I expected on Friday night. That was good - it meant I could really work out.

I don't like simulators, they restrict movement, they somehow degrade it and take away my pleasure from it. I started by slowly stretching a bit reminiscent of asian wusha, then moved on to an ever faster and more vigorous shadow box. I finished when I couldn't catch my breath. It took me thirty-five minutes until I could squeeze the water from the shirt. I changed into another and loaded all the discs they had on the stand on the Olympic barbell. I took it and started doing lunges untill I got bored to death, then moved onto bench press and did three quick series of twenty reps.

Out of breath, I sat down on the bench.

"Do you want to try it?"

I heard him coming, I had the answer ready.

"I was just about to go for you. Had a bit of success today, so I would like to try it, "I said.

I saw him calculate the weight.

"It's two hundred and twenty kilos," he said. "Usually only few are as strong as they look, you probably are."

He stood on the bench so he could help me if I needed to.

"Want me to help you lift it up?"

"Definitely," I took advantage of his offer.

With his slight help, I simulated two repetitions.

"You're really good," he nodded appreciatively.

I wasn't really happy he caught me, but I hope I played it well.

"I'm done, I'll go take fifteen minutes on the exercise bike and finish for today."

Not that I wanted to, but it was expected, and he nodded that he understood.

In the aerobics section, I met the chestnut woman from the restaurant. She wore headphones and pedaled for life. With eyes closed.

She opened them and found me looking at her.

"Ha, hello," she greeted me.

I managed to answer without stuttering. I liked her, damn I did. She attracted me, and that made me nervous. I wasn't used to something like that.

Even though I didn't mean to at all at first, I started the treadmill and jumped on it, realizing that she was still looking at me, trying to not let me notice. I tried the same.

Later we met at the fit bar. She was wearing jeans, high-heeled ankle boots, and a sporty knit T-shirt that would look out of place in another setting — or rather defiant. Her breasts were small, I noticed that while we were on the exercise bike, since she only had an elastic sports bra.

"You really tortured yourself back there," she began the conversation.

I was ready for that.

"You didn't go easy on yourself either," I chose one of the possible mandatory answers. "It's almost like you're training for a race."

She laughed, her ponytail glistening as she shook her head.

She reminded me of the deer I killed when they went to the chestnuts I had sprinkled for them.

Damn.

"I'm local. I came back after ten years of building a career and I am taking a break. I'll need to see how to proceed. And a break means getting myself together, fixing what I neglected.”

She smiled somehow half apologetically and looked all the more attractive.

I didn't remember her, but I was a local forty-five years ago, when she wasn't even born yet.

"And you?"

She liked me. I knew it. And it was mutual. After many years, I had the uncomfortable feeling that I couldn't handle it - unless I ended it here right now.

I said goodbye with an excuse that sounded silly even to me, and went outside with self-denial and with dignity.

Damn. No, damn it. I stopped cursing years ago. Shit.

In the reflection of the glass panel of the closing door, I saw her giving me a thoughtful look. Then she stopped paying attention to me and pulled out her phone.

Fu.. and once again fu… I won't swear.

The cold air helped me a little. But only a little.

I came back, and again I have a problem with women, albeit this time with strangers. And outside the pack?

Absurd.