White fog spreads through the forest, among the pines, it makes its way among the blue birches, among the weeping grass, then the fog is from words, from people’s rumors. From people's rumors, from girls' tears, where the pillars of broken birches stick out, where in the pools the darkness has gone deep, where love was, and went down into the river. Yes, the dark nights went into the river. And in that fog - the Vedas - daughters. Whose life plucked the flower before it bloomed... That white fog is the fog of the white Vedas. …and no one knows how the fog chooses the veda, gives the veda, and takes the veda. The Vedas are not known to anyone. They will come out of the fog at the edge of the forest. All white. And they will sit down to weave wreaths and sing songs... And, God forbid, the guy should answer their call... He will not leave alive if his heart is not pure. The Vedas will lure him into the darkest pool on the river. Into that pool in which they themselves drowned from love... And if the guy has a bright heart, then the Vedas will give him a gift such as he asks for...