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The first light of dawn slipped through the thin curtains of the wooden house on the edge of the birch forest, painting the small kitchen in a soft amber hue. Olia Ivanova, twelve years old, was already awake. She slipped out of the warm cocoon of her blanket and padded across the creaking floorboards, careful not to wake her younger brother, Misha, who slept soundly in the next room. olia young russian teen
Epilogue – Returning Home