Сноувайт

開場白

The smell of damp moss, rotting pine needles, and the acrid, nauseating smoke from the stove barely overpowered the heavy stench of blood and medicinal herbs that filled the cramped forest hut. Outside the window, a pouring rain droned drearily, drumming against the thatched roof. A young man stirred on the hard wooden cot. His pale face, as if carved from marble, contorted in pain, and a stifled, agonizing wheeze escaped his chest. Snowwhite slowly came to.