by Karah Sutton
“I’m sorry!” the boy said with a gasp. He disappeared again, and scuffling sounded overhead before he reappeared, lowering himself down the rope, his boots firm against the rock wall.
He landed beside her gracefully, his feet only stirring a little dust as they touched the ground. Though young, the boy was of a strong build, clearly having worked as a farmer or blacksmith, perhaps. He crouched, putting a cautious hand toward her.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said, speaking slowly, as though he thought she couldn’t understand his words but wanted to bring comfort anyway. “If you can trust me, I will help lift you out.” When Baba Yaga made no move to snap or attack, he reached out with the rope, tying the end around her stomach. Then he climbed, his human fingers gripping the rope and his feet balancing on narrow recesses in the wall.
He leapt over the ledge and disappeared from view. A tug pulled Baba Yaga toward the wall, and then slowly the rope began to lift her up. She pushed her paws against the stone wall in an attempt to leap higher—the rope was uncomfortable around her middle even though the boy pulled at it smoothly. At last, between her maneuvering and his pulling, her head popped through the hole in the forest floor. She blinked in the light.
The boy smiled down at her. “It’s okay, you’re okay now.” He reached down and untied the rope from around her middle. “I’m Ivan,” he said.
Baba Yaga could smell the blood pumping through him.
This was him. The one she’d been looking for.
The sight of the witch made Nadya’s insides feel hollow. The gray teeth protruding from her leathery gums looked like they feasted on little girls for breakfast. The eyes shone like twin moons in a starless sky, bright yet threatening.
Nadya had been foolish to come here.
“What do you seek?” the witch croaked, leaning on her cane.
Nadya stepped a foot back. Perhaps if she ran away now, Baba Yaga would be too surprised to give chase. But as she moved, a toe wiggled on one of the giant chicken feet holding up the house. She’d never be able to outrun the cottage, with its long, wiry chicken legs.
She would have to see this through.
Nadya planted her feet on the ground and tried to look the witch in the eyes, unblinking. “The tsar is getting married to my friend Katerina…,” she began.
Confusion crossed Baba Yaga’s face, but her features soon returned to their fearsome scowl. “Continue,” she said.
“If I give the tsar a wedding gift that is special enough, he’ll have to offer something to me in return. The thing I’d request would be to move to the castle and live with them like…like a family.”
Understanding seemed to flash across Baba Yaga’s eyes. She stepped away from the door and beckoned Nadya forward. “Come in,” she said, her voice the croak of an old frog.
Nadya hesitated. Was this how children were lured into Baba Yaga’s oven?
“I won’t bite,” said Baba Yaga with a chuckle.
Maybe the witch wanted to swallow her whole.
“You won’t eat me at all?”
Baba Yaga shook her head. “I don’t want to trick you.” There was a burning in her purple-flecked eyes. “I’m not like that.”
Nadya made her way up the steps. Heat and earthy scents encased her as she entered the small cottage. So many knickknacks and trinkets covered every surface that the room dazzled with color and chaos.
As she entered, Baba Yaga gestured to the shelves and shelves of scattered objects behind her. “Is there anything here that you could give as a gift?” she said.
Hope and relief swarmed Nadya, making her heart hum. “You mean it? I can take something?”
Baba Yaga nodded.
“And what do I give you as a trade?” Nadya asked. Terrible mistake for her to forget…Baba Yaga was sure to follow the old forest traditions just like the tsar did. And she had brought nothing to offer, not even her terrible sewing or one of her grainy cakes.
The question seemed to take Baba Yaga by surprise. “I have no wish to trade,” she said. The wrinkles in the old witch’s face arranged themselves into a thoughtful expression as she moved to sit in a chair at the table.
This witch didn’t seem at all like the villagers had described. It was as if she genuinely wanted to help.
Maybe it was a trick, and Baba Yaga would demand her trade when it was too late to refuse. Nadya would have to find a way to offer something in exchange.
The many objects on the shelves beckoned to her. There was bound to be something here to win over the tsar. Nadya hopped to the first shelf, her fingers tingling with curiosity as she lifted small vials filled with bubbling sunset-colored liquid, dried mushrooms and poisonous nightshade, a skull that looked far too human for comfort. At last, she lifted a dagger, heavy with gold and jewels.
Where had all these things come from? It seemed too much for one person. She glanced around the room. There was only a small bed in the corner. “Do you live here alone?” she asked.
“There’s the raven,” said Baba Yaga, though she didn’t seemed too pleased to be talking about him. Then a cloud passed over the witch’s face. “I have a family. But I am separated from them.”
The words pricked Nadya, like a sliver under her skin, a memory long-forgotten that still itched and stung.
“Do you miss them?” she asked.
“Always,” said the witch.
Nadya thought of how Katerina’s songs had been a comfort when she was very little. Maybe she could comfort Baba Yaga. But no, Katerina had said she wouldn’t be allowed to visit the forest from the castle.
They fell into silence. Nadya looked at the dagger, twisting it to inspect it more closely. The handle appeared to be made of bone. She gave a small shudder and started to put it back, but the rubies were so beautiful, glittering and dancing brighter than the flames in Baba Yaga’s fire.
“You spoke of the tsar,” the witch said into the silence. “I’ve heard of him…but I don’t understand. What is he?”
Nadya was so surprised by the question that she nearly dropped the dagger. Surely, Baba Yaga knew everything? How could she not know who the tsar was?
“He rules over our village and the forest. He became the tsar when his father died during the summer,” she said. “The old tsar and tsaritsa never set foot in our village, but Tsar Aleksander was visiting every few weeks. And then he asked Katerina to marry him. It was the most exciting news.”
Baba Yaga’s brow furrowed, as if she was struggling to follow the story.
It reminded Nadya of a time when Katerina was helping an old woman in the village relearn to weave. The woman’s illness made movements and memories difficult, and both her mind and her fingers struggled to grip the threads of Katerina’s explanation. But Katerina was tender and patient, carefully answering the woman’s questions. Nadya could do the same.
She continued. “They’re to be married at sunrise after the full moon, and then there will be a hunt—the biggest the forest has ever seen. They invited me to join them that day, but…” Nadya paused. Baba Yaga’s face had gone pale. What had she said? If she’d angered the witch, would she be in danger?
After a horrible silence Baba Yaga finally croaked, “What hunt?”
“The tsar has called a great hunt of all the beasts—wolves, foxes, bears—of the forest.” She swallowed and continued. “He says it will end with a fire to burn the forest away from the castle.”
The look of fear in Baba Yaga’s eyes made Nadya feel sick. Of course a hunt would be frightening to the witch. She lived in the forest just as the animals did.
“What can be done to stop it?” Baba Yaga asked, her voice suddenly shaking.
She’d always heard of the witch as someone to be afraid of, someone threatening. Nadya had never considered that the witch could feel threatened. That her power and magic weren’t enough to make her feel safe.
And suddenly Nadya knew what trade she could offer Baba Yaga in exchange for the dagger to give to the tsar.
; She had never liked Tsar Aleksander’s plan, his boasts of conquering the forest with fire. If she could find a way to stop it, to convince Katerina that Tsar Aleksander shouldn’t burn the forest, then it was a trade worth making.
Zima clenched the cane in her bony hand. She had to stop the tsar before it was too late. She needed to do something, or this hunt could destroy her entire pack.
When their parents died, Grom had stepped up as the leader. If there were fights or challenges or threats, he made the decisions about what to do.
But she couldn’t go to Grom. He wouldn’t trust the news coming from Baba Yaga. He wouldn’t believe that she was really Zima. And word of the hunt coming from the very human that Zima was supposed to have killed would make everything worse.
She ached with longing for Grom’s strength, Leto’s nerve, Potok’s watchfulness. For the first time, deciding how to protect her pack fell solely on Zima.
She was breathless. A heavy lump in her throat made it difficult to swallow.
Nadya was peering out the window, as though she could see hunters approaching. The dagger glittered in the light from the fireplace as she twisted it in her hands. “I am going to the castle…,” she said, turning back to Zima. Her hands were steady and she squared her shoulders. “Let me try to stop the hunt.”
Let the girl stop the hunt? No, Zima couldn’t do that. And she couldn’t leave the protection of her pack to someone else—to a human. Grom would never forgive her.
“No,” said Zima, “I must act.” She tried to stand, but her legs were shaking. She could feel the fear pulsing inside her. She had managed to go to the witch to save Leto, and she’d stared down a single hunter. But this was too much. An entire pack of humans was going to have the greatest hunt the forest had ever seen. How could she, a solitary wolf trapped in a witch’s body, ever hope to stop something so dangerous? She didn’t know if she had the strength to do it.
“You can’t stop them,” said Nadya. “Katerina is too afraid of you—she says the forest curses everything it touches. But if I tell her how you’ve helped me, she’ll have to understand.” Nadya clutched the dagger close to her chest. “Let me. This will be my trade. I do this for you in exchange for this gift that you have given me.”
For a moment Zima realized how vulnerable she was, alone with a human holding a weapon. The smell of Leto’s blood, oozing from the gash made by a human knife, filled her memory. She couldn’t let the hunt put him in danger again.
She eyed the dagger in the girl’s hands. The girl wasn’t threatening her. The dagger wasn’t a weapon; it was something else.
She remembered the moment when she had chosen not to kill Nadya. Nadya hadn’t tried to attack Zima, hadn’t put up a fight. That moment had created a bond between them. Zima realized that she did trust this human girl. She couldn’t say why, but she did.
“We just have to find the castle,” said Nadya. “I know it’s along that road somewhere. And Tsar Aleksander said it was near the edge of the forest.”
In that, maybe Zima could do something. Before, when Leto had started to attack “Baba Yaga,” she’d raised her eyes to the ceiling and shouted “Help!” and the house…helped. It had taken her away to another part of the forest.
She looked up. Maybe she could ask the hut for help again. The raven had said she just needed to ask nicely.
“Please…house”—she gripped the table, as her legs were still wobbling nervously—“please take us to the castle.”
For several seconds there was silence. Zima’s ears were ringing. She began to wonder if she’d merely imagined talking out loud but hadn’t actually said anything. She opened her mouth to speak again when the floor beneath her feet gave a shudder. A thundering footstep sounded from under the hut as the first chicken leg took a step, and then the house took off with the speed and force of a shooting star.
The walls thumped and bumped. The floor beneath her feet swayed. Zima sat in one of the chairs, hoping it would make the light-headed feeling go away.
Nadya looked a lot better than Zima felt. She gazed at the floor in wonder, as though trying to see the galloping chicken legs through cracks in the wooden boards. “We’re really going to the castle?”
Zima wanted to nod, but her head still felt dizzy. “Should be,” she croaked.
Nadia tugged a paper from her bag and examined it. “This will be the farthest in the forest I’ve ever been.” Then a smile lit her face. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Katerina…is my friend. She might fear you, but she’ll listen to me.”
* * *
—
The hut slowed to a stop and lowered to the ground, but Zima’s stomach kept heaving as though the chicken legs were still stomping through the forest. She peered through the window, but the surrounding trees told her nothing—they could have been any trees in any part of the forest. She missed the wolf nose that would have allowed her to smell the differences, how the magpies and butterflies compared to the ones near the home place, and whether humans or other wolves had been through the area in the past few hours.
The door protested as Nadya opened it, but Zima stepped with the human girl across the threshold.
If the hut did what she asked, then they were somewhere near the castle. Now, what exactly a castle was, she wasn’t sure. Zima squeezed the top of her cane and hoped Nadya would know it when she saw it.
The trees in the distance were thinner, younger. A faint glint of silvery light winked from beyond the saplings. Not the yellow-white of normal sunshine, this light was colder, like the light that bounces off snow.
As they shuffled toward the light, a colossal form started to take shape.
There was a meadow just beyond the trees, and it rolled like a soft cloud up to a white wall, taller than the tallest trees nearby, but nothing compared to the structure that rose behind it. Pure white towers jutted into the sky like icicles growing from the ground. The blue onion-shaped roofs were the only way to see where the towers ended and the clouds began. And everywhere—from windows, the points of the roofs, and the gates in the wall—there was the glint of gold.
This was a mountain. Zima stared in wonder. How could humans possibly build something so large, more beautiful and sparkling than the sun?
Leaves crunched as Nadya took a few steps forward, clutching the dagger, which she’d wrapped in a thin and ragged cloth. The bright light before them illuminated her eager face. “They won’t want me returning to the forest,” she said. “But I’ll try to sneak out and visit you. I’ll come to you by sundown, so you’ll know when you’re safe from the hunt. And you won’t be alone.” With that, she stepped forward to cross the meadow.
Zima longed to follow but held back, watching as Nadya joined other humans on the road approaching the castle.
As she returned to the hut, shame pulsed inside her like a second heartbeat. She had thought going to Baba Yaga to save Leto was proof that she could do what was necessary to protect her family. But now here she was, desperately searching for the courage inside her to face the human hunters herself, and unable to find it.
When it came to being a leader for her family, she wasn’t strong enough.
Baba Yaga was almost jittery with excitement, as though she were a young witch again. Here was the one she’d been looking for. A little younger and less fearsome than she’d hoped, perhaps, but she could smell the old tsar’s blood in him. This young man would surely want to reclaim his tsardom, and Baba Yaga could return to her quiet solitude in peace.
Ivan was diligent in checking that she had no injuries from her fall. As soon as he was satisfied, he stood, ready to continue on his journey. Baba Yaga took a deep breath. What she was about to say would give him a shock. Humans knew that magic occurred in the forest, but meeting a talking wolf was likely to be strange for anyone.
She gave a low bow, and began, Thank you for saving me, young man, in as eloquent a voice as she could muster. In situations such as these, one was bound by the traditions of the forest. Ivan h
ad saved her, and this meant that she owed him a favor in return. She only hoped it would not take too long.
As expected, Ivan gave a yelp, his light eyes wide with surprise.
My apologies for frightening you, she said, but I must thank you for saving me. It is my duty now to return the favor.
“You can talk?” said Ivan.
Baba Yaga frowned. Was he going to waste time like this? Yes, yes, I can talk. Within the forest, its magic gives me that power. Outside of it, I remain an ordinary wolf.
He raised a skeptical brow. “And you said you owe me?” said Ivan.
Yes, I am bound by the rules of this forest to trade favor for favor, spell for spell, gift for gift. In saving me, you are owed a favor as a reward. Name what you wish, and I will do it.
Ivan watched her for a moment, thinking. Then he began to pace, his heavy steps stirring up the dust of the road, his pack jangling. Baba Yaga trotted along beside him.
She had avoided humans for so many years, refusing to think of the man who had been murdered while regret ate away at her little by little. But now all of that would be set right. He was the one, the descendant of the tsar who had been murdered all those years ago.
There was so little time, only a few days left until the full moon. She hoped the favor he requested could be done swiftly. But whatever it was, it was worth doing if it earned his trust. He needed to believe her, to accept that he was the true tsar. It would almost certainly come as a shock. She would reveal the truth to him slowly, until he would have no choice but to accept the responsibility of taking back his throne.
