The village of Ruska Lozova stands at the centre of what could be a shift in the war’s momentum: a Ukrainian offensive to push Russian troops back towards the border.

It was recently liberated in a co-ordinated effort led by senior military commanders. Ukrainian troops from territorial defence, the national guard, and the regular army are seeking to push the Russians back along a 32-km (20-mile) front line. In the Russian city of Belgorod, just across the border, troops have amassed for a likely counter-offensive.

We drove north from the city of Kharkhiv with Ukrainian forces. Russian shells continued to hit the village.

With no power or water, little food, and neither phone or internet, its residents had been isolated from Ukraine’s second-largest city – just 8km (5 miles) south. From the woods and hills nearby, Russian mortars and artillery shelled Kharkiv relentlessly.

At an army aid station we met Raisa Opanasivna, who has lived in Ruska Lozova for 30 years. The 66-year-old approached the Ukrainian soldiers weighed down by history – and two large plastic shopping bags.

Under a knitted grey beanie, her gaunt face was weather-beaten, her slim frame stooped. She hadn’t seen this many people for months. Since the beginning of the war, her village had been under Russian occupation.

The Russians had come house to house. “They were checking homes, asking if we have rifles. But I have nothing. I’m alone,” Raisa said.

Ruska Lozova has been torn apart, but more than that, Raisa’s whole world had been upended by Russia’s invasion. In the east, the war is bringing not just a re-examination of people’s relationship to Russia – barely 30km north – but a more personal reassessment of what it means to be a Russian-speaking Ukrainian.