by Karah Sutton
Baba Yaga looked at her paws. No, she said. And yes.
His shoulders tensed, and a muscle began to twitch near his temple. He stood and started to pace around the clearing. “What do you mean?”
I am taking you to Baba Yaga’s hut, as I promised, she said. But there is something I haven’t told you. She took a deep breath. I am Baba Yaga.
His brow furrowed as he took in her words. “You’re what?”
I have been searching for you, because I know who you are—I have always known.
“You are Baba Yaga, and you didn’t tell me?” He kicked at the fallen bough, dislodging fresh snow. “My grandmother was right,” he said, and he turned to look at her, not anger but disappointment contorting his features. “You’re a liar.”
She was right, said Baba Yaga. Your family lost everything because of me. But has she told you what you lost?
“Our home,” said Ivan.
It is more than that, said Baba Yaga. Your great-grandfather was the tsar. Your family was forced to flee the castle because he was murdered. The murderer had help from me.
“I’m…he was…the tsar? What my grandmother said about our home, it was the castle?” The shock in his eyes shifted to anger. Ivan’s hands balled into fists, his legs shaking. “How could you? Why would you do that?”
I was tricked, said Baba Yaga. I had no wish to see him dethroned. But a man used my own magic against me, and coerced me into telling him how to steal the tsardom.
“But why didn’t you prevent it?” said Ivan.
Baba Yaga looked away from him. She couldn’t bring herself to admit the true reason: that she hadn’t cared enough to stop him.
For so long she’d been content to stay in her hut and let the problems of the outside world pass her by as though they didn’t concern her. But they did. The forest was now in danger because of her mistake—no, her choice. Of all the evils in the world, the greatest was the temptation of the easy path over the right one.
Ivan took a step back from her. His kind face was twisted by a look of disgust. “What were you planning when we reached your hut?” he said.
There is a dagger there, one that will always seek the blood of a tsar, she said. I intended to give you that dagger, and tell you your true origin. The current tsar now threatens this forest. My hope was that you would stop him.
“Instead of stopping him yourself” was Ivan’s retort. “He threatens this forest because you allowed his family to steal the throne that belonged to my family. And still you’re not facing him—you wish me to do it for you.”
Baba Yaga winced at the truth in his words.
“And what if I don’t want the tsardom? What if I want a quiet life—what if I’d rather stay at home?”
Baba Yaga answered softly, If he is successful in his plans, the entire forest is in danger. He must be stopped.
“Then you stop him,” he spat. “I can’t continue on this journey with you. Not after you’ve lied to me. How do I even know you’re telling the truth now?”
You don’t, she said. But what I say is true. If you won’t do it for me, then do it for the forest you love.
She closed her eyes, trying to quiet the heartbreak fermenting inside her. The sounds of heavy footsteps and the thrashing of branches made her flinch.
When she opened her eyes again, Ivan was gone.
She was all alone, no better off than she had been when she started.
And the threat of the tsar loomed ever closer.
Katerina was gone.
Zima leaned out the window searching for footprints in the newly fallen snow, but there was no sign of her. The icy breeze made her eyes water as it blasted her wispy hair away from her face.
Rolling hills stretched out before the castle, and the road snaked over the landscape toward the village. Below the window, servants were carting firewood and supplies for the wedding across the castle grounds, but Zima saw no trace of Katerina among them. They would notice her disappearance soon.
Off to the left, the forest stretched to where the earth met the sky, the tips of the trees rippling like the waters of an enormous lake. Had Katerina entered the forest, or had she followed the road to the village? Could she even navigate the snow in her condition?
Zima latched the window shut and turned to the door, but before she’d taken another step, a flapping sound made her stop.
It was the raven, perched on the back of a carved wooden chair. Here you are, he snapped, waving his wings in agitation. Have you any idea the danger you’re in? You were supposed to stay in the hut.
“Quiet, someone might hear you!” Zima hissed. She looked back at Oksana, who was staring in wonder and curiosity at what must have been a very strange scene. Zima put her hands on her hips and said to the raven in a low voice, “I heard the tsar was planning a hunt, and I didn’t want to stay in the hut and wait for the forest to catch fire around me.”
We need to get you to the hut, right away, the raven said. Baba Yaga will have returned by now, and the spell must be done tonight.
Zima crept closer to him, struggling to understand what he’d just said. “Baba Yaga is back? What do you mean—what spell must be done?”
The raven fluttered toward the window and nodded up at a sliver of moonlight piercing the heavy clouds. The moon seals magic.
That’s right, Zima remembered this from the memory in the cauldron, when Baba Yaga swore to Tsar Aleksander’s great-grandfather that she would always tell him the truth. What might have been an ordinary promise was made magical by moonlight.
He gave Zima a very pointed look. That means a spell becomes irreversible at the full moon.
She still didn’t understand.
The raven moved his feet in an irritated sort of dance and sighed. That means if you and she are not in your old bodies by sunrise, the spell is permanent.
Zima might as well have plunged through ice into a freezing lake. Every part of her was in shock. “Why—why didn’t you tell me?”
Because she knew she’d be back by now, and—the raven clicked his beak—you were not supposed to leave the hut!
Zima glanced out the window. The sun had set, but it was only early evening, and the cold season’s nights were long-lasting. She still had time.
“We will go to the hut, but there’s something I have to do first!” She pressed an ear to the door and, when all was silent, stepped into the hall, pausing to let the raven land on her shoulder.
What could possibly be so impor—
“Hush!” There wasn’t time to explain to him about Nadya and Izel and why Zima had to save them. To her surprise, the raven closed his beak (though he gave her a very dirty look). She turned to Oksana, who seemed surprisingly calm about just having witnessed a conversation between a witch and her raven. “Can you lead me to the dungeons?”
Oksana was disconcerted by that anyway. “But if the tsar—”
“You can leave here with us,” said Zima. “You would be safer in my hut.”
The young baker bit her lip as she often did, but then she nodded and led them from the room.
Together the group crept through the darkened corridors. They entered the great hall, then ducked through the door where Izel had been dragged away. A howling draft whipped up the steps.
Zima clutched at the stone walls with one hand and gripped her cane in the other as they descended curving stairs. The air was thick with damp.
At last, they approached a door that looked as heavy as the tree that had made it. When Zima turned the handle, the door swung away and slammed against a wall. She crept forward and they were swallowed by darkness.
Nadya was trapped and alone. She wanted to claw at the stone walls holding her in like an animal, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Tiny rat claws skittered on the stone floors nearby, and from above, the eyes of hanging bats blinked in the dim light.
She had failed. Not only in her promise to Baba Yaga to stop the hunt, but now Katerina was in danger too. And Nadya was trapped
here, unable to do anything about it.
Izel was the only other prisoner, also accused of helping Baba Yaga. They’d each tried to pick their cell’s locks at first, but as darkness fell and shadows surrounded them, they both grew quiet and still.
The clank of a latch and the groan of a door opening at the entrance to the dungeon made her jump. “Who’s there?” she said. Her voice quivered like a leaf in a breeze.
“Nadya?” someone whispered. The voice was familiar. Creaky as an old tree.
Izel spoke from the cell beside Nadya’s. “Baba Yaga?” he said.
Relief washed over Nadya. Baba Yaga was safe, and she was here in the dungeon. Not as a prisoner, Nadya hoped.
“Where can I find the keys?” said a female voice Nadya didn’t recognize.
“Through the far door,” said Izel.
The whispers made Nadya’s skin prickle, bringing warmth and comfort to the damp chill of her cell. How had Baba Yaga even managed to find her?
It made her feel even worse that she’d failed Baba Yaga, promising to help and losing sight of that promise. Baba Yaga was still here, even though Nadya hadn’t done what she’d said she would do, and now there was no way to stop the tsar’s hunt.
Nadya wished she didn’t make so many mistakes, especially the ones that hurt other people. Not because she believed this would make them love her, but because she loved them. She could try harder. She could do better.
“Baba Yaga?” Nadya asked.
“Yes?”
“I’m so sorry for—” Before she could finish, Nadya was bathed in orange light. She blinked and shielded her eyes.
The door on the far wall had opened, and three of the tsar’s soldiers stood in the doorway. Torches lining the hall behind them threw an eerie glow into the dungeon and cast shadows over their faces.
“Step away,” said the guard at the front.
Even Baba Yaga’s wrinkles seemed to scowl as she looked at the guards. She held out a protective arm, shielding the young woman beside her wearing a servant’s uniform. For the first time, Nadya understood why people were so afraid of the witch.
“Keep back,” said Baba Yaga to the guards. “I will curse you if you take another step….”
The guard at the front laughed. He was big as a boulder and covered in mosslike hair. “You think I fear your tree magic?” He turned to the others and pretended to shiver and tremble. “Oh no, I might get scratched by thorns or tripped by roots!”
The others grunted with laughter.
“The tsar told us about your magic,” said the guard, stepping forward. “So go ahead, curse me.”
Nadya screamed and threw her weight against the bars as one of the guards lunged for Baba Yaga. The bars held fast. Nadya was trapped, forced to watch as the guards attacked the old witch.
Baba Yaga backed up against the wall. Her raven leapt from her shoulder and swooped toward one guard, beating his wings and pecking at the guard with his sharp beak.
Before Nadya could fully understand what was happening, Baba Yaga swung her cane over her head. The instant it connected with the guard, the air rippled through the room with a jolt that made the metal bars of her cell ring.
Baba Yaga dropped her cane and collapsed forward, cradling her hands. The servant girl rushed to her side.
Nadya covered her eyes. She couldn’t bear it if the guards had hurt Baba Yaga.
But there was only stillness. Nadya looked up.
Three large boulders stood where the guards had been. They no longer resembled humans at all.
The raven swooped back to Baba Yaga and dropped something in front of her. It clinked and clattered against the stone floor. The key ring.
Baba Yaga picked it up, shuffled forward, and began shoving keys into the lock of Nadya’s cell. Finally the door swung open with a squeal. Without a word Nadya staggered forward and threw her arms around the witch. Baba Yaga stiffened at first, then softened and placed her palms on Nadya’s shoulders. When they broke their hug, Nadya saw that the servant girl was smiling.
Nadya wanted to ask the question that had been plaguing her since her conversation with Katerina. Baba Yaga had now helped Nadya twice. Could the witch really be the cause of Katerina’s illness? But before she could ask, Baba Yaga’s expression darkened, the shadows deepening her many wrinkles. “Katerina is missing. We went to her first, but she seems to have run away.”
Fear and hope swelled up in Nadya’s heart. Maybe Katerina had decided to leave the tsar after all. But what would the tsar think? Would his hunt now include Katerina too?
“The tsar is searching for you,” she said to Baba Yaga. “It’s why he put us in here.”
Izel nodded. “We must get you somewhere safe.” He grabbed a torch and gestured for the others to follow him, through a passage on the far wall and down a long corridor. The raven landed on Izel’s shoulder, as if eager to lead the way.
Along dim halls they went, up steps and then down, unlocking gates and doors with the keys from the stolen ring. Nadya was dizzy with all the twists and turns. They walked for so long that it seemed impossible they were still within the castle walls. She looked for a window to check where they were, but there were none. She realized there hadn’t been any windows along the whole corridor. In fact, it was no longer a corridor at all.
Somehow, without realizing it, they’d entered a tunnel to a cave. Rough stone jutted down, and their footsteps over the uneven ground echoed in her ears.
“Where are you taking us?” Nadya asked him.
He didn’t respond, only pointing ahead, where the passage began to slope upward. Wind wailed past them as they rounded a final turn and then emerged into open air.
For a moment there was perfect silence. Then the cry of a fox, the heavy hoofbeats of nearby elk. Leaves whirled and crackled past them, and Nadya’s nose was filled with the familiar smells of pine needles and mushrooms mixed with the bite of frost.
All around them was the glow of snow in the light of Izel’s torch. It clumped in little piles where it fell between gaps in the tree branches.
“We’re in the forest,” said Nadya in awe. The raven let out a screech of delight and swooped up to land on a tree branch.
“There are several passages that lead out of the castle,” said Izel. He looked around and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the sweet night air. “Many years ago, before Tsar Aleksander’s family came into power, the old tsar and tsaritsa loved the forest. It is said they would use these passages often to travel to their favorite meadows and glens. I think I’m the only one who uses them now.”
Izel then retreated into the darkness of the cave, his face thrust into shadow. “I am glad to see you safe,” he said to Baba Yaga. “I hope that those who remain in the castle will soon be freed from the tsar, thanks to you.”
An unreadable expression flashed across Baba Yaga’s face. She gave a slow and hesitant nod.
Nadya reached toward him. “You should come with us. What if the tsar finds you?” Her stomach twisted at the thought of returning to the dangers of the castle when they’d just escaped its dungeons.
But Izel shook his head. “I must make sure others—my wife—are safe first.”
The servant girl stepped toward him. “I can help you,” she said.
Baba Yaga protested, placing a hand on the girl’s arm and holding tight. “It’s too dangerous, Oksana. What if he realizes you helped me?”
Nadya couldn’t help but agree, even if she didn’t know how this girl had helped Baba Yaga. Both Izel and Oksana would be safer in the woods with Baba Yaga and Nadya.
But Oksana stood firm. She brushed a strand of golden hair away from her face and placed her hand on top of Baba Yaga’s. “We have to warn the other servants. They’re all in danger from the tsar’s wrath.”
Izel nodded. “Do not worry, we will join you,” he said to Baba Yaga. He gave Nadya what might have been a wink of reassurance. “We won’t let you face him alone. I know all will be well,” he said,
smiling warmly, “with you on our side.”
With that, Izel and Oksana left Nadya alone with Baba Yaga, disappearing into the passage back to the castle.
Zima watched Izel and Oksana go, the man’s words ringing in her mind. They were depending on her. They had seen her do magic. She could still feel the hum and tingle in her hands from fending off the guards in the dungeons.
It had frightened her, when she’d first arrived at the castle, how Izel was looking to her to protect them from the tsar. Somehow she’d gotten this far. Her heart gave a twinge. Perhaps this was how Grom felt, with everyone in the pack looking up to him. Whenever Zima saw him again, she would ask him. That is, if she could find a way to see him again.
She stepped forward out of the mouth of the cave, and her warm thoughts were driven away as the full force of the winter storm seized her. What looked like gently wafting snowflakes now stung her cheeks and hands. An icy wind howled past, whipping her cloak and skirts. They needed to get out of this storm.
Call the hut! shouted the raven. His words were swept away by the moaning wind.
Of course. The hut would keep them warm and take them wherever they needed to go. The raven had said that the hut would come when Baba Yaga called it, that it would help when needed. And she needed help.
But could it navigate this storm?
Zima tucked her cane under her arm and rubbed her hands together. The knuckles had grown stiff and sore in the cold. Then she held them in the air and called, “House!” She paused, thinking of a compliment, some way to flatter the house into coming to her aid. “I need your swift legs and strong walls!” Her words were carried away as quickly as she uttered them.
She stood frozen, her hands still raised, hoping that the house was close enough to hear her call. Her stomach squeezed harder with each passing second. What if the hut didn’t come? Where would they go?