by Bret Allen
~
Ekaterina followed the stream for a while, watching the trees on either side as she walked. She saw no sign of the firebird, but did see another crow that watched her passage intently. She glared at it but went by quietly; the firebird might still be nearby and could be frightened away if she shooed the crow.
The boar was forgotten. The astonishing image of the firebird filled her mind, despite the fact that she had only caught a glimpse of it. Now that the god of the hunt had provided her with a great prey, she had an equally great quest ahead of her.
Soon enough, the stream joined a river, which plunged further into the forest. The trees were thick on each side and Ekaterina was now some distance from the village, but as long as she had the river, she could find her way back.
The hunters from the village must have thought the same, because she met them coming the other way. They had been very successful, already laden down with prizes. The landlord’s son and the headman carried a branch between their shoulders, from which a stag hung upside-down by its ankles. Old Grandfather had a pheasant slung over his shoulder. He was ahead of the others and was first to see Ekaterina. A frown creased his wrinkled face.
“Katya, what is this? Why have you disobeyed us?” he asked.
“I came to prove myself, elder.” she replied.
“Child, you know it is dangerous. Look, you have cut yourself.”
Ekaterina looked down and found that her tunic and breeches were dirty from her fall and she had cut her hands. She had not even cleaned her spear. The landlord’s son took the opportunity to mock her.
“It would appear that our muddy maiden has speared something,” he said, gesturing to her bloody weapon. “Yet, I see no spoils. Do not be ashamed, Ekaterina, a woman is not expected to make the killing blow…”
“I’m not ashamed!” she said. “I caught a boar… but it… got away.”
“This is why I told you to leave it to us,” grumbled the headman, while the landlord’s son laughed.
“Actually, I have a much finer prize,” declared Ekaterina.
She thrust her spear into the ground and took out the firebird feather with a flourish, holding it proudly before their eyes. The landlord’s son tipped his head curiously and the headman squinted at it.
“What in the world is that?” asked the younger hunter.
“This is a tail feather from the firebird! I saw it with my own two eyes. The most magnificent creature you can imagine!” she boasted.
“That is just a story…” said the headman.
Old Grandfather inspected the feather and nodded sagely.
“Yes, this belonged to the firebird,” he said. “I have seen it myself, in my youth. A most rare and magical creature. The firebird is immortal, but it does not mate; when it dies, it bursts into flame, to be reborn as an egg. Who can guess what power it holds?”
“The power to bore me to death,” replied the landlord’s son. “She has a peacock feather, faded by the sun perhaps. Firebird! Come back with a stag and I will make you my wife that day.”
“It’s the real thing!” she protested. “And I don’t want to be your wife! I swear-”
“Ekaterina, stop these childish games,” ordered the headman. “Go back to the village and do not defy me this time, or you will be punished!”
“Curse you both, I saw the firebird! You won’t be laughing when I bring you the beast itself. I’ll show you the real thing and you’ll declare me the greatest hunter of the village!”
“Kill the firebird and bring it to me, and on that day I will be your wife, and you my husband,” joked the landlord’s son. “Come now, let us go back.”
“I’m not going back! I’m going to hunt the firebird, the greatest prize in this forest. Never again will anyone look down on me!” shouted Ekaterina, before running away from them.
She heard the men call after her, but she ran nonetheless. Burdened by their prizes and their paunches, they lost her within minutes as she wove through the trees, fighting back angry tears.
Ekaterina ran left, then right, leaping over tree roots and scrambling down banks. Soon, her feet began to ache along with the bruises on her back, so she slowed down. The men could follow her trail with ease, but that would take time and she doubted that they would even bother.
She decided that she would not return to the village without the firebird’s carcass; otherwise she would look extremely foolish, more so than she could bear. To prove that she was better than any man, she would have to kill the legendary bird. Thinking about how she might do so, Ekaterina suddenly realised that she had left her spear behind with the men.
Shouting in anger and kicking a stone, she marched on, furious at herself for making such a childish mistake. She spied a mockingbird above her in the branches, its black eyes following her. Feeling embarrassed about her tantrum, she tried to ignore it. Ekaterina resolved to keep looking for the firebird and fashion a new weapon along the way. She could throw a stone if it came to it; a true hunter needed no spear and a woman was meant to be resourceful.
Ekaterina found her way back to the only landmark she knew; the river. Following its banks, she watched the sun reach its zenith, bringing with it a rumbling in her stomach. She wished that she had caught the boar. Trying to ignore her misgivings and pangs of hunger, Ekaterina marched along the riverbank in pursuit of glory.
