“They don’t like Grandma Arina in the village. Every second guy remembers the salt from Grandma’s smooth-bore shotgun digging into her lower back, the boys who were pulled by the hair by the hair with Grandma’s strong hand are rubbing the backs of their heads, the young girls, whom Grandma regretted hitting with salt, are picking at scratches from a willow rod. Let them not interfere! Just what to do when one Arina’s garden has apples as sweet as honey and not wormy at all, and in the pond, they say, the fish are swimming from real gold? If you don’t want to, you’ll climb in! So they climb, and the old woman is waiting in ambush with a berdana, hitting without missing a beat. Grandma is naughty..."