The awareness of the box's contents dripped slowly in Joelle's mind, coagulating like a graceless Rorschach's blot. Bones. Tiny tapered bones, standing out against the mahogany bottom.

The unusual item jolted on the worn chair, reacting to the vibrations of the old diesel-powered train. The convoy, the last of his lineage, still fulfilled its duty along the Brașov-Sighișoara route allowing students to return to their homes every weekend. To the rhythm of joints and sleepers, the whiteness of the remains continued to dance tremulously before the eyes of the young woman as the frames of her glasses slipped slowly from her nose.

In a tinkling clink of bracelets, the student closed the lid of the box and moved away as far as possible from it, crushing herself against the seat's padding. The lazy air of the air conditioner stuck to the bottom of her dry throat an acrid plastic taste.

And then she saw him. The old passenger had returned and was staring at her through the windows that led from the corridor of the car to the cabin. She listened to her own scream erupting and fill the cramped cab.

"I didn't want to scare you, young lady."

"N-not scared. No worries, sir." Somehow, Joelle managed to gather the few polite words her manners demanded. She could not have said how long he had been watching and if he had seen where curiosity had taken her. The glasses, temples up in the air, laid on the seat beside her.

The old man was tall and lanky, his burnished skin resembled the ancient scales of a dragon. Dressed in work trousers and a raw cotton shirt, he gave the impression of being one of those peasants whose families had inhabited the Carpathians for centuries.

Joelle's gaze passed involuntarily from the man to the funeral urn disguised as a biscuit tin: the representation of a merry-go-round in a lacquered colored wood and graceful workmanship. The children were swirling with their bent busts, perhaps because of the speed of the carousel. Their mouths were wide open and their hands clung to the poles skewering the horses. With a lump in her throat, she remembered the fleeting memory of just a few hours before, when a train was huffing at the central station and a gentle old man asked her help because he couldn't open the cabin door. She felt like something ruined down from her lungs to her guts.

"I see that you like my craft." In the silence, she could detect the old man's fingers caressing the box inlays.

"It's adorable. A gift for a grandchild?" Joelle realized only now that the object was his only baggage. In the warm twilight, the colors of lacquered wood seemed even more lively. The conifers thickened on the sides of the train, sliding quickly to the edges of her field of vision.

"Oh. A gift, says the young lady. Like a toy, perhaps?" The old man's eyes were two black bottomless pits. His gaze had slowly become vitreous like that of a deep-water fish, yet at the same time penetrating.

"Yes, a toy. I like how you see it, miss." The passenger continued, his voice getting thinner.

Only then, Joelle realized where they were heading: the train had just passed the old mill and would soon pass through the tunnels beneath the mountain.

"You may have noticed how I depicted all these children. Observe, miss, between a horse and the other: they are not alone." By pronouncing the last vowel, which he abnormally prolonged, his voice tone had become a slow and drawling rattle.

It was still too early for the wagons' lights to turn on and the tunnels were preparing to swallow the convoy.
A sound of nails carving into the wood tore the thoughts of the young student.

The mingled sound of the locomotive engine and rolling wheels fulfilled the cabin. Belling sound increased as the convoy went deeper into the tunnel. Soon the old man dived into the darkness that filled the cabin. All she could see were tiny reflections on sashes. Ceiling lamp turned on, but there was only a low sparkle light. Insufficiently to illuminate the cabin, even for a while.

After a long time of belly noise, the sound became softer. The convoy went out of the tunnel. Soon, the daylight fulfilled the cabin.

"It looks like an eternity every time the convoy pass through this tunnel." The old man smiled.

"I was afraid that some monster or ghost would pop out of the box," Joelle said with relief.

"Really?" The old man laughed. "No scary things in the box."

The cabin door opened and went in suspiciously looking to Joelle.

"It's been raining soon," the old man said.
"It is good for seed corns," the stranger said.
"Excuse me miss," the old man said to Joelle. "Can I please you to go to the messroom and bring me a glass of water?"
"Sure," said Joelle.

The stranger's piercing look was a clear sign that she had to leave them alone. She took her suitcase and went out after the stranger opened the door.

She didn't know where to go. There was no restaurant in the train. Should be good to pass to another wagon, far from the suspicious businessmen.

She just made a few steps and a strong man caught her from behind, while another one stepped against her. She didn't know what's happening at the moment. They used her confusion to take her into the closest cabin. Man on behind held her firmly, another one wrested her suitcase and opened it.

"Where's that?" He asked after he rummaged items in the suitcase.

"I don't know what you're talking about?" Joelly was frightened.

"You know," he said, while the man on behind put a knife against her throat.

"You caught a wrong target," said someone in the wagon passage. "They're in an opposite wagon."

"Shit!" The suit checker waved a fist through the air. "Sorry about this mistake, young lady." He pointed a finger to her. Don't say a single word about this."

The men ran out from the cabin leaving her alone. She collapsed on the seat unable to pack the rugged suitcase.

She recovered from stress after a long time. After the convoy stopped on the station she stopped out to the passage looking through the window. Among the passengers who were leaving the train were the old man and the stranger. They were going surrounded by cops with nippers on their hands. The suitcase checker and his fellow were going before them.

"Tsaristic spies," said the conductor noticing her surprise. "They were preparing actions against Soviet government. If they succeeded, we would probably be at war with the Soviets."