Eliza wove twelve shirts from cemetery nettles, without uttering a word, her hands were sore and her heart was filled with cold fear, but she continued her hard work, and even when the girl, like a witch, was dragged to the last fire, she did not let go yarn. At that very moment when love becomes stronger than death, what does the mute witness see when looking at the shadow woven from their bodies? Light feathers or coal-black soot? Real fairy tales teach us to find truth where there is none, however, what this truth will be - everyone will ultimately decide for themselves.