Russia has taken the city. Now it’s coming for their villages.

Villagers living near the Ukrainian town of Avdiivka listened with dread in recent weeks to the sound of bombs falling there, knowing that their troops were taking a heavy hit and that their villages were next in line.

Now the chance of bombs landing on them increases every day. Russian troops captured Avdiivka 12 days ago and the front line has shifted westward, threatening the next Ukrainian farms and villages in their path.

“It’s very tense right now,” said Oleksandr Kobets, a farmer who was slaughtering a pig on his property. “You wake up several times a night. They’re getting closer.”

The loss of the eastern city of Avdiivka has been a blow to Ukraine, amid declining Western support and a shortage of weapons that has also left outnumbered soldiers short on weapons. But for the farmers and miners and their families living in this nearby stretch of towns and villages, Russia’s sudden advance upends already tough lives, sending them on the verge of fleeing.

“We are sitting on our suitcases,” said Mr. Kobets.

Life in this province, Donetsk, has been disrupted by almost a decade of war and many families have fled the region due to poverty and unemployment, but also because of the conflict. But as long as Ukraine’s defenses largely held out around Avdiivka, many farmers and retirees held out, because it was cheaper to live in their own homes than pay rent in a city, and they could live off the land.

After losing Avdiivka, Ukrainian soldiers fell back to positions in villages bordering the city, but have lost three more villages in heavy fighting in recent days. The sound of exploding heavy artillery is a constant backdrop to life in the villages beyond.

On Thursday, the commander-in-chief of the Ukrainian army, General Oleksandr Syrsky, said in a message on his Telegram channel that some commanders had miscalculated in planning the latest Russian advance, but he gave no details.

As they prepare to meet the Russians again, Ukrainian soldiers rest in empty houses or with families in the parts of the Donetsk region that remain under Ukrainian control, finding local helpers to wash and sew their uniforms while they repair their cars and stock up on supplies.

Those shopping in a village shop seemed very tired. The bombing of Avdiivka was the worst they had ever seen, said a soldier named Oleh. Nearly everyone suffered from concussions, he added. According to military protocol, he only gave his first name.

The villagers seemed unfazed that the presence of soldiers could trigger Russian attacks on them. Local men also fought on the frontlines and some had gone missing during previous fighting, said Tetyana Rud, the head of the council that oversaw two villages near Avdiivka.

“I think the soldiers who withdrew are consolidating their positions,” she said. For now, the 389 civilians in her two villages remained there, she said. There had been artillery attacks on a farm and other targets in the area, but so far both villages had escaped direct damage.

Still, everyone was packed up and ready to leave on short notice, she said.

“If the soldiers leave, we will leave too,” she said. “If the soldiers tell us to go, we will go.”

She was sitting in a village council building with a group of female volunteers. “This is my support group,” she said. “We are full of energy, optimism and spirit.” The women helped manage the distribution of boxes of humanitarian aid stacked in a pantry, and they ran a small first aid station in an adjacent room.

One of the women, Yulia, 62, said she would not leave. Her pension was less than $80 a month, and she felt she couldn’t make it outside the home.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “And I don’t want to live in a dormitory.”

“Don’t be fooled,” Mrs. Rud replied. “We’ll take you with us.”

“If my house falls on me, I will be buried under it,” Yulia insisted, prompting Mrs. Rud to say, “We will tie her up and evacuate her.”

They had all set up their basements as bomb shelters, and the children had taken part in running and cover exercises, she added. Everyone also had a grab bag of their documents at hand.

“It’s tough,” said Mrs. Rud, “but we’re trying not to lose heart because the whole village is watching me.”

But other villagers were somber about the impending Russian attack.

“We are all scared,” said Kateryna Lytvynova, 73, who lost her husband a few years ago and was hospitalized for a month last year after suffering a stroke.

“We don’t want the Russians,” she said. “We don’t want outsiders, even if we become worse off, we don’t want them.”

She has hung blankets over her doors and windows to block the light coming from her house at night. The entire village goes dark after 7 p.m., she said. “Even the soldiers use small candles,” she said.

She sits alone in the dark next to a religious icon on a table in the corner of her living room and listens to the explosions.

“There was a big explosion at a quarter to midnight, another time at 10 p.m.,” she said. “A large farm was bombed a week ago and the pigs are still running around.”

“I sit and pray in the dark,” she said. “Everything would be fine if it were quiet.”

The farmer, Mr. Kobets, said he doubted the Ukrainian army could stop the Russian advance, and he expected to lose his farm. “I’m psychologically preparing myself to go,” he said.

However, he had nowhere to go, nor did he have the money to rent a truck to transport his livestock and belongings.

“A Ukrainian farmer is a poor person,” he said. As for the farm, he fully expected the Russians to plunder what had not been razed.

“I think it’s all going to be destroyed,” he said, gesturing to the farm buildings around him. “A hundred percent.”