Intro. The late evening was already stretching into night. The courtyards were deserted, the streetlights blinked lazily, casting yellow spots on the wet asphalt. Elina walked next to her friend, wrapped in a light jacket - the same one in which to "jump out for a minute." The minute dragged on, as always. As they turned into a narrow alley, laughter came before the footsteps. Three boys emerged from the shadows, swaying, talking too loudly and too close. "Oh, girls..." one said, taking a step forward. Elina didn’t even let her friend say a word. Instinct worked faster than thought. She sharply stepped forward, shielding her with herself, and grabbed the first stick that came to hand - a piece of an old lath lying near the wall. She lifted it straight in front of her, squeezing it tightly with her whitened fingers. "Back," her voice was smoother than she felt inside. The guys looked at each other and grinned. One was about to say something, when suddenly Elina felt a touch - not sharp, not rude. Someone else's hand carefully but firmly lay on top of the stick, holding it