Anya and the Nightingale

by Sofiya Pasternack

  “My mother likes you,” Misha said. After a slight hesitation, he added, “We all do.”

  Anya suppressed a blush and opened the pouch. Inside was a small cloth square wrapped around a handful of rubles. The cloth was embroidered with a colorful hand. In the center of the hand’s palm, a blue eye stared out at Anya.

  Misha pointed. “That’s a hamsa, the hand of Miriam. It’s for good luck. Ilana was making it for me, I guess, but she told me today that you need it more than I do. She said sorry it’s not finished.”

  Anya ran her finger over the embroidery. It didn’t look unfinished. “It’s beautiful. Tell her thank you.”

  Misha nodded. “I will. And those rubles are for tzedakah when you get back home. Because tzedakah is a mitzvah, and someone doing a mitzvah can’t be harmed. So you’ll be safe as you travel.” He shrugged and smiled.

  Anya laughed. “I should do mitzvot more often.”

  “I think you’re doing plenty.” He surprised her by pulling her into a hug. “Leich l’shalom.”

  Anya nodded against his shoulder. Go toward peace. “Leich l’shalom to you, too.”

  They broke apart, and Anya stepped back to where Ivan and Håkon waited. Håkon had one hand on his bandaged arm, and he was staring openly at Vasilisa.

  She was staring back.

  Anya glanced back and forth between Ivan and Håkon. Ivan shrugged.

  “You should go,” Vasilisa said finally. “Before my father figures out you’ve gone.”

  Anya nodded. “Thank you.”

  Vasilisa returned the nod. Her eyes found Håkon one last time, and she said, “You’re welcome.”

  * * *

  It took Anya, Ivan, and Håkon a while to find Alfhercht’s tree again. The darkness didn’t make anything easy, and neither did the fact that they were afraid to travel too long on any road near the castle. When they finally came upon the tree, Anya knocked her knuckles on the side of it and whispered loudly, “Alfhercht? Wielaf ? Are you here?”

  No response. Just the dry rustling of autumn leaves.

  Ivan stood with slumped shoulders, and Håkon kept inspecting his torn skin beneath the bandage around his arm.

  “They must have left already,” Ivan said. “Gone back to wherever their home is.”

  “Ilya said their home is gone,” Anya said.

  Håkon moved the bandage back so it covered his entire swath of exposed scales. “How would Ilya know all that?”

  “He’s a bogatyr,” Ivan said. “That’s his job.”

  “We should go back home too,” Anya said. “It’s going to take a while.”

  She wasn’t looking forward to the long walk north. They had some money now, thanks to Misha and Vasilisa, but they didn’t know exactly how to get back to Zmeyreka. It would be a long, long journey.

  Anya sat down next to the tree, her back pressing against its smooth bark, and set her bundle of bones to her side. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She ejected a shaky sigh. This trip hadn’t been a complete disaster, but it was close. Anya had made a fool of herself in front of the first rabbi she’d ever met. She had gotten her friends stuck in the woods with no food and no way to get home. And now the tsar knew who she was, but not in a good way.

  Håkon sat down next to her, on the other side of the package, and put his arm over her shoulders. He said nothing while Ivan sat on her other side and likewise put his arm around her. They sat like that for a while, and then Håkon said, “It could be worse. We could have drowned in that cave.”

  “We could have gotten arrested and dragged back to Kiev,” Ivan added.

  “Or the tsar could have shown up a minute earlier and caught Alfhercht and Wielaf,” Håkon said.

  Ivan nodded. “Ilya could have seen Håkon’s scales.”

  “I’d be a dead dragon, Anya.” He said it with such matter-of-factness that Anya snorted out a laugh.

  “I think the worst thing that could have happened,” Ivan said, “is that I could have lost either of you. But I didn’t. We have a long journey home, but we’ll manage. We’ll make it.”

  Anya sniffed, smiling but still sad. “You lost Alfhercht, though. You liked him.”

  Ivan flipped a hand in the air. “Oh sure, he was handsome. And magical. And he saved my life. His hands were so warm.” He sighed. “But he did make my nose bleed. I’ll find someone just as amazing as him. Or I’ll pine for him for the rest of my life.”

  Håkon nodded. “That’s probably more likely.”

  “You’re not allowed to make fun of me,” Ivan said. “Only people who have been in love can make fun of my pining.”

  “Ah well,” Håkon said quickly. “I can’t say anything, then. Because I’ve never been in love.”

  “Me neither,” Anya said.

  “I have,” a voice said from around the other side of the tree. Wielaf materialized into being, leaning against the side of the tree. “So can I make fun of you?”

  He smiled weakly. He didn’t look healthy by any means, but he didn’t look on the verge of death anymore. His skin was darkening toward a gold similar to his brother’s, with even darker swirls patterning his arms. His hair was still ragged, but his eyes were a brownish orange.

  Anya scrambled to her feet. Håkon followed. Ivan stayed on the ground, blushing furiously.

  “You’re still here!” Anya said. “And you look so much better! Your magic does work!”

  Wielaf ran his hand over the tree’s bark. “No. It’s gone. But I’m still Alvolk. There’s something in my bones that not even that creature can take away.” He craned his neck, looking upward. “The trees won’t talk to me. But they’ll heal me. I’ll take it.”

  He didn’t sound like he was ready to take that. Anya said, “I’m sorry.”

  Wielaf shrugged. “Alfhercht wanted to stay in case you came back. I wanted to stay and see what the deal is with . . .” He paused. “Are all of you dragons, or just him?” He pointed to Håkon.

  Håkon clutched at his arm. “It’s just me.”

  “Ah.” Wielaf used his hands to speak as he said words aloud. “That’s interesting. Alfhercht had no idea.”

  “Where is he?” Anya asked.

  “Oh,” Wielaf said. “He’s hiding. Because of what—”

  Alfhercht appeared then, dashing out of the trees, smacking Wielaf’s hands down. He spoke furiously, sharply with his hands. Wielaf didn’t translate for the others. He just laughed as he and Alfhercht spoke back and forth. At one point, Wielaf very clearly pointed at Ivan. Alfhercht tried to snatch his hand out of the air, but he wasn’t fast enough.

  “Anyway,” Wielaf said, focusing on Håkon, “we wanted to make sure you three were all right. We thought dragons were extinct. The tsar would turn himself inside out to get his hands on you.”

  “I know,” Håkon said dourly.

  Anya watched Ivan and Alfhercht pointedly not looking at each other. She smiled to herself a little, then pulled Ivan to his feet. “We’re grateful that you stayed. Could we ask you a favor?”

  Wielaf bowed to her. “Anything for you. We will never repay you for what you did for us. But we’ll try.”

  “We need to get home,” Anya said. “But we’re pretty ill-equipped. Could you help us get there?”

  Wielaf beamed. “Absolutely!” He pointed his thumbs at Alfhercht and Ivan. “That will give these two a chance to—”

  Alfhercht’s hands were up, and Wielaf’s voice cut off. His last words—chance to—bounced around the clearing before ricocheting off into the trees.

  Wielaf tried to speak again, couldn’t, and sighed. He crossed his arms and looked exasperated.

  “It will give us all a chance to talk,” Håkon said.

  Wielaf nodded, grinned, and clapped Håkon on the shoulder of his uninjured arm. The tree opened up, and they gathered some supplies from inside: backpacks, blankets, an assortment of random items they’d be able to trade for food or board if they needed it. Anya put her bones inside
her own pack, making sure they were cushioned. Alfhercht put one of his glowing stones into his pack, and another into Håkon’s.

  While everyone else continued to pack, Anya cleaned the blood off Ivan’s face so he wouldn’t horrify any other travelers they came across. Her scrapes and bruises were all superficial, and she cleaned them off as much as she could. There wasn’t much she could do about Håkon’s arm past bandaging it. All of them put on clothing from Alfhercht’s tree so they weren’t traveling in torn or bloody clothes.

  Ivan suffered Anya’s scrubbing of his face, then went back to shoveling things into his pack until it was bursting and lopsided. He shouldered it crookedly and zipped away from the tree, not waiting for any of the rest of them. Anya and Håkon exchanged a knowing look as he ran off.

  They followed him out to the road, Anya and Håkon in front, Wielaf and Alfhercht behind. Anya ducked her head close to Håkon.

  “Obviously, we can’t travel on the road much,” Anya said. “But I think with Wielaf and Alfhercht, we’ll be able to—oof!”

  She bumped into Ivan, who had come to a stop at the edge of the road.

  “Ivan!” Anya snapped. “What—”

  She stopped when she saw the hut sitting in the middle of the dark road. The door was open. Lena stood in the doorway, grinning. “Want some help?”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  They didn’t get a chance to answer. Anya blinked, and they were inside Lena’s hut. The door was shut, and the hut was swaying as it flew, however it did. The two children and the dragon in human skin stood around the crackling fire. Alfhercht and Wielaf lingered by the front door, far away from the flames, blinking with alarm.

  Lena patted Håkon on his torn arm. “I see you figured out how to remove your disguise.” She tutted. “There’s a less painful way, you know.”

  Håkon scowled. “I thought we were going to die. And I wouldn’t have had to take it off if I still had magic as a human.”

  “Oh, you.” Lena smooshed his cheeks with both hands, puckering his mouth. “Of course you had magic.”

  Håkon frowned. “Death magic.”

  She kept smooshing his cheeks as she said, “How was it?”

  “I didn’t like it,” he said.

  “Well, lucky for you, when you’re a dragon, you don’t have it.”

  Håkon pulled his face away from her squeezing hands. “How does that work?”

  “Dragons have their magic,” Lena said. “And humans have theirs.”

  “That doesn’t make—”

  “It does make sense if you think about it,” she said, flitting away from him before he could say anything else. She went to where Alfhercht and Wielaf stood. “You picked up friends.”

  Wielaf said, “Who are you?”

  “I’m Lena,” she said. “I think you’ll like it in Zmeyreka.” She winked at Alfhercht and then turned from them.

  Anya remained by the fire. Her backpack seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. Inside, the bones sat, safe and wrapped up. The ring in her pocket seemed to whisper to her. But she didn’t want to present either to Lena. She was suddenly struck with the fear that Lena hadn’t ever meant for her to pick up the ring or the bones, and that she’d just desecrated a corpse for no reason.

  But the skeleton’s apron. The blue waves. She looked at Lena’s white apron with its own curling blue waves across the top.

  Håkon and Ivan sat by the fire, chatting and poking at Håkon’s arm. Wielaf and Alfhercht stayed by the door, their hands flying. Lena walked closer to Anya and said in a soft voice, “Did you use my key?”

  Anya nodded. “That’s how we got Wielaf out.”

  “Oh good.” Lena stopped just in front of Anya. “Did you find anything else?”

  Anya swallowed hard and pulled the ring out of her pocket. Before she handed it to Lena she said, “You knew my papa wasn’t in Kiev.”

  Lena nodded. “I did.”

  “Why did you take us there?”

  Lena sighed. “It was dishonest of me to do that. I’m sorry.” She nodded toward Alfhercht and Wielaf. “They didn’t deserve to be trapped there anymore.”

  “It’s okay,” Anya said softly. “Neither did you.”

  Lena smiled, and Anya opened her palm. The ring glowed in the firelight. Lena’s lip trembled when she saw it. Her eyes brightened. She picked up the ring.

  “I got something else, too,” Anya said. She went to swing the pack off her shoulder, but Lena stopped her with a gentle hand.

  “I know,” Lena said. “Thank you. You don’t . . . I don’t need to see those. You know what to do with them.”

  Anya nodded.

  Lena held the ring in her palm, clutching it close to her heart. She sighed, kissed the ring, and handed it back to Anya.

  “Tell him I still love him,” Lena said. “Please.”

  Anya knew who. She put the ring back in her pocket. “Lena, how did this happen? Your ring . . . You died—”

  “I knew a secret,” Lena said. She glanced at Håkon, who picked at his peeling human skin. He wasn’t paying attention to Lena and Anya. None of them were.

  “Is that why you’re helping us?” Anya asked. “For Håkon?”

  Lena’s sigh was heavy on its way out. “Of course for him. Always for him.” She smiled with tears gathering in her eyes. “It doesn’t matter that we found him in a wrecked boat in a river. He’s my son, and I would die a thousand more times to protect him.”

  “Are you going to tell him who you are?” Anya asked.

  Lena sighed. “I don’t know. He was so little when I left. He wouldn’t remember me.”

  “I think he’d want to know,” Anya said.

  “Hmm.” Lena watched Håkon replace the bandage over his arm. “Maybe I will.”

  Anya smiled, but then the memory of the creature in the dungeon snuffed her smile out. Lena had been there. She had probably met it. Anya trembled. “Do you know what that monster was? The one under Kiev? It cut his skin off. It knew.”

  Lena sucked in a sharp breath, but before she could say anything, the hut came to a stop.

  “We’re here!” Lena trilled, her voice steady. She wiped the tears out of her eyes and swept to the door. “All right, all right. Ivan and Anya, I’m going to drop you off on the road. Håkon and Alfhercht and Wielaf, I’ll take you into the woods near Håkon’s house.”

  “Can you just drop us off at my house?” Håkon asked.

  “No.” Lena put her hands on her hips. “I know of a nice tree I think the elves will like.”

  Wielaf translated for Alfhercht, and both of them lifted curious eyebrows. “Do you expect us to stay in their village?” Wielaf asked.

  “For a while,” Lena said. “I know you feel better, but you’ve still got some healing to do.”

  Alfhercht looked like he was going to argue, but Wielaf put one hand on his brother’s arm. “You’re right.”

  Lena smiled and scooted up next to Håkon. “So. Håkon. What was it like being a human?”

  “Terrible,” Håkon said, and Lena laughed.

  “Pretty weird, huh?”

  He stuck his tongue out and plucked at his rubakha. “I hate clothes.”

  “Clothes are the worst,” Lena agreed. “Would you like to go back?”

  Håkon’s eyes widened. He looked so excited, and Anya knew she should be happy for him. But for some reason, her heart sank. She didn’t want him to be a dragon again. She liked his more animated expressions, and the way it was easy to hug him. But it wasn’t Anya’s decision, was it?

  He looked up at her, and she plastered a smile on her face. “You could be a dragon again!” she said, trying her best to sound glad. “And you’d have your old magic back.”

  “Yeah,” Håkon said, but he didn’t sound as happy as Anya thought he would. He peered at Lena. “There’s no way I could be both, could I?” He flexed his fingers. “I kinda like hands, now that I’m used to them. And I like being able to go places without having to be afraid of being seen.”
>
  She shook her head. “It’s one or the other. I’m sorry.”

  “Figures,” he mumbled. He glanced at Anya. “I . . . I don’t know.”

  “Well.” Lena leaned close to him. “I bet we can figure something out.” She kissed his forehead as she’d done before, and where her lips touched, a red light burst out of his skin. It was warm and shone so bright, Anya had to shut her eyes. Just like the first time. The red light filled the hut, encasing all of them in its warmth, and she tucked her face into the crook of her elbow to keep out the searing brightness.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  When the light faded, cold air replaced it. The road was dark, but a distant light rose over the familiar cliffs of the river valley. Dawn. How long had they been gone? Three nights and two days, since Thursday night. Long enough to panic everyone.

  The hut was still there, and as they watched, it blew away like it was made out of dust. When it was completely gone, Ivan stuck his hand where it had been.

  “Amazing,” he whispered.

  Anya said, “What are we going to say to your family?”

  Ivan shrugged. “We were gone for two days. Where could we have walked to and back from in two days?”

  “Nowhere,” Anya said. “Mologa, maybe, but—”

  A commotion bounced around the trees in the cold night air, and Anya very clearly heard Ivan’s father, Yedsha, say, “Okay, we can search for Vosya and Anya in a line. We’ll do the west side of the road this morning, and the east side . . .”

  Yedsha rounded the corner, and the words died on his tongue. Anya had never seen him looking so haggard and so frantic. As soon as he saw Ivan, he blurted, “Vosya!” and ran to him. He grabbed Ivan in his arms and hugged him, squeezing so tightly that Ivan squeaked out a breath and made no other sounds.

  Marina and Ivan’s brothers minus Dvoyka and Troyka came around the bend. But they weren’t alone. Verusha and Olya Dragutinovna and their mama were with them, and Mila Nikolaevna and her mama, and Father Drozdov, and the entire Lagounov family, and the Melniks, and Demyan Rybakov, and Kin, and even some of the old fishermen, who lagged behind the main group.

  When Ivan’s brothers saw him, they yelled his name and joined their father, jumping on him and knocking him over. Six Ivans rolled around on the road, hollering at the youngest one that they were all so happy to see him.