Night pressed down on the forest like a damp blanket with several sounds of monsters and small insects coming from everywhere.
A crooked wooden shack squatted between trees, its tin roof rattling softly in the wind.
A single lantern hung from a nail, throwing yellow light over a rough table where six women sat drinking cheap liquor and slapping down greasy playing cards.
"Oi, stop cheatin', Laska," one of them laughed, swaying as she took a long swig from the bottle. "You always got them lucky fingers."
Laska snorted, spitting to the side. "Lucky my ass. You just don't know how to play proper. Fold already."
Another woman scratched her arm and leaned back on her chair, boots propped on a cage behind her. "Who cares. Cards ain't why we here anyway. Easy money tonight."
