text: Continue the following story: The holidays have arrived. Evening. Natashka looked around guiltily before entering the shed. The decoration is not rich: a table with a stool, candles on it, inventory. In the girl's pale hands was a small Chinese mirror. Bought once from a traveling merchant while talking about his unspeakable magnet of luck, it was waiting in the wings. The hour has come.
  Natasha sat more comfortably on a stool in front of the table and cautiously peered into the mirror. Nothing unusual. And suddenly