But it turned out that God loved her. He had led her for a long time down the wrong paths, until he had guided her here – by the highway. She had done good things, thus she was done a good turn. She gave, and she was given. The money made her life easier, but that was not the main thing. Once, when she returned to the roadside after a short illness, the girls told her that many men had asked for her. They had driven away unsatisfied. That was the main thing. Someone was yearning for her low, thickset lap, therein to unburden a heart and to fuck her. God had provided meaning for her life, for which she often thanked him. Also for her bathtub, her room and her kitchen, and her small garden, which she had succeeded in buying from its proprietors.

Today is the sort of day when one should abandon the highway and go into the woods. It’s the right time for cranberries, and mushrooms are growing like mad. The girls too are late: one is at home with her child, one is sleeping off yesterday’s drinking binge, one has the shakes …

Naģe has already got up to go, when a truck puts on its brakes at the bench. She doesn’t know this man. A premonition sends shivers through her heart, but the man says he has heard about Naģe from a fellow truck-driver. It sounds so believable, and the man has such a kind face. She clambers into the car, and they drive off. He keeps silent and now and then glances at her. Something about him frightens Naģe. She asks where they are heading.

“Where do you want to go?” asks the man, throwing a totally vacant look at her.

“Into the woods,” Naģe responds.

He continues to keep silent, but very soon after, turns into the woods. Naģe draws a relieved breath. Every path, tiny track, bog and marsh. Why don’t the bad thoughts leave her? Why is she afraid? He is her usual style of man. No longer young, large build, kind face.

They step out of the car and go further into the woods, because he wants it so. On the road that leads to the marsh, he suddenly leans against a tree and tells Naģe to fall to her knees and take him in her mouth. Naģe does what she has to do and soon feels a warm liquid spurt in her mouth, when, suddenly, he grabs her by the head and with all his strength dashes her face against the rain-soaked sandy road. Naģe is stunned; she tries to get to her feet, but instantly is kicked down again with his booted foot. “Paluchi, zhaba, urods neschastniys, paluchi zhaba (Take this, you toad, you miserable cripple, take this, you toad.)”