by Rena Rossner
“For years I would hear the sound of wings when I slept, and sometimes in the forest I would look up, thinking I’d heard something, but there was nothing there. Yet still I knew that he was around, somewhere. He followed me. I’d see the shadow of a wing in a tree and my hair would stand on end.
“One night, your father and I fought and he stormed out. We can’t fight our natures, even though we try. A bear will always be a bear, and a swan a swan. Everyone fights, malyshka; everyone questions their choices. Even people who love each other. As I cried myself to sleep that night, I took out the feather and held it to my chest. My tears fell onto its downy softness and before I knew it he was there. I heard the singing of his wings like an echo of the wind, and saw him, silhouetted in the moonlight. I let him into the cabin and he cradled my head like I was something precious. Like he’d been waiting for me all his life. I was sad, missing my family and that way of life. I felt caged by our cabin and the life I’d chosen. He kissed the tears from my eyes …”
She pauses, her eyes wet and shimmering. She looks off into the distance.
“He kissed me and said, ‘I will always come for you.’ I was angry with your father. And I’d been promised to this swan-man first … something in his blood sang to mine. He was soft and beautiful and graceful. I was young and it was like coming home after not flying for years. I’d never felt anything like it. Until this day I still haven’t. He kissed me again, and I couldn’t help it. I kissed him back. Soon your father came home and caught us together. He thought that Aleksei was taking me by force … Your father went into a rage—he shifted into a bear—he attacked Aleksei …” Her voice cracks. “There was so much blood,” she breathes out, hand clasped over her mouth.
“No! Mami … no …”
“Aleksei tried to fight back. We were covered in his feather cloak; he shifted, but he was no match for your father. I screamed and screamed but I was paralyzed with fear. I was scared that in his rage your Tati would kill me too. I couldn’t save Aleksei. I wasn’t brave enough.
“I trembled and cried, draped in Aleksei’s cloak; the cabin was covered in feathers and blood. I felt arms around me. It was your father. He was shaking too. He said he would never forgive himself for not being there to protect me, thinking I was crying and shivering because I’d been taken advantage of. He was terrified by his own rage. He swore that he would never be a bear again. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified of what would come out if I opened my mouth, so I said nothing.
“When Aleksei never made it back to his family, they followed the trail of his scent. They wanted to kill Tati in retribution. But by then I knew I was with child again—your sister—the only daughter of Aleksei Danilovich. When the swans came, your father offered himself to them. He was horrified at what he’d done and was willing to accept judgment—even if it meant his death. A life for a life. But I would have been left with nothing, bereft of both the men I loved. I begged my family to spare your father’s life and they agreed, but only if I allowed them to take Laya from me when she was born. I agreed—I had no choice. But since then, every year when they’ve come, your father has protected us—even in human form he never let them take her. As long as he was with me, I never feared for Laya.
“Now there are things in these woods that are more dangerous than bears and swans, malyshka.” Mami strokes my cheek, tears in her eyes. “There are creatures stalking the woods, just waiting for a chance to strike at the hearts of men. I hear rumors when I walk in the forest, echoes in the woods, from birds and other creatures.” She shakes her head. “Your Tati and I must go to Kupel. His father, the Rebbe, has taken ill. He may pass away. Your father must make amends, and try to see if they’ll accept him back into the fold. He’s next in line to take over from his father, to run the rabbinical court, but he won’t assume the reins unless his father accepts me, and both of you. I don’t want to leave you, but your father gives me no choice.” Mami takes a deep breath, looking like she is trying hard to hold back tears. “I need you to protect Laya. I fear that the swans will come for her without your father here to protect her. Know this, Liba—you are stronger than you believe. You too can become what you need to be in a time of need.”
“Mami, the other night …” I look down, not sure if I want to tell her what happened to my hands and my arms. I take a deep breath, “I think I know what you mean,” I say instead.
“Tati should be the one to explain what you are and what to expect, but we don’t have time. Dubossary is safe. Don’t be afraid, and should danger come, trust your instincts. Laya is young and searching for something. She is not strong in her faith, like you. Already I see the longing in her eyes when she looks at the sky. This may not be the life for her, but I want her to be free to make that choice. I don’t want anyone to make it for her.
“I took your Tati’s faith on as my own, I believe in Eloykim. I want that life for your sister because I believe it is a good life, a just life. But she must choose it herself. It won’t be real to her until she does.
“I never spoke to my family again, but I see them every fall when they fly over Dubossary on their way south. They circle the cottage, looking for Laya, and sometimes I hear their feet on the roof and the rustling of feathers … there is always one swan …” Mami wipes a tear that’s trailing down her soft white cheek.
“Whatever choice she makes, Liba, just make sure it’s her own. If they come …” She looks away, along the river, as though she can see its end. “She should have a chance to get to know her people. Laya is younger than you are; she doesn’t know her mind the way you do. But I still won’t make the choice for her, and neither should you. One day you will wonder too … When that day comes and you get the chance to meet Tati’s family, you’ll understand, and I trust you to make the right decision. There are many young men in Kupel who would be eager to marry the daughter of the next Rebbe …”
My stomach twists.
“But first we must see how they receive us, if they’ve changed.”
She holds her arms out and embraces me. “We only want what’s best for you, Liba. For both of you. Open your hand,” she whispers.
It’s only then that I realize that my hands are clasped tight into fists. I open my hands and gasp. My nails are long and almost black. My stomach rumbles. “Mami!” I cry.
“Oh, Liba!” Her eyes are wide. “I must tell Tati.” She shakes her head and sighs. “We should not be leaving you, not now, not like this … If the Rebbe wasn’t on his deathbed …” She closes her eyes. “Dochka, you may be all that stands between your sister and the swans. Do you understand? If they come, you will know what to do. Help her make the right choice. Do you hear me? It is not for nothing that you have claws.”
I nod, trembling.
“I’m giving you this.”
She puts a feather in my palm. It’s stained with rusty spots that look like blood.
“Should Laya ever need anything, should either one of you ever really be in danger, all you need to do is say his name, Aleksei Danilovich, as you hold this. We will also speak to some families in town before we go and ask them to look out for you. But if you need the swans … if there is no other choice … they will come if you call them. They owe me that because no matter what, we are still family. But they won’t want to leave without Laya. I leave her life in your hands, Liba, do you understand? Make sure it’s a life she wants. That’s all I ask.”
I swallow hard and nod once more. “Does Laya know?”
“I hope to tell her before we go, but I’ve told you now. You know everything you need to know. We love you. Both of you. One light, one dark, your father always says with pride. He loves you both the same.
“If all goes well, Tati will find a match for you there, in Kupel. Somone just like you. We’ll all go back for your wedding, please God. You will be the most beautiful bride.” Her eyes glisten with tears.
But what if I don’t want to leave Dubossary? I think but don’t say
because it’s all too much. I’m not sure I know what I want anymore. What if I don’t want a Chassid? Or a bear? I shudder and rub my arms, suddenly feeling a chill. What if the man Tati chooses has other customs and ways? What if he doesn’t let me learn Torah and study with him like I study with Tati—always asking questions? I open my mouth to say something, but Mami keeps talking.
“We won’t be gone long, a few weeks at most. And hopefully we’ll come back with good news. Listen to me. Know this—anything is possible, Liba, anything. There are lots of different kinds of beasts in the world, and the Kodari holds many secrets. People are not always what they seem. And you are more powerful than you’ve ever dreamed. If you’re ever in danger, you can draw on that power to save your sister, and yourself.”
10
Laya
I open the skylight
above our bed
and go out onto the roof.
I search the sky
for feathers.
Mami comes back
from the woods with Liba.
Laya, come down,
she says, I need your help
in the orchard.
I help her pick berries
until they stain my fingers
and my lips.
Mami looks
up at the trees;
she sniffs the air
and waits,
watching silently.
She looks up again.
What are you doing? I ask her.
Making sure that we’re alone,
she says.
She enfolds me
in her soft embrace,
and whispers in my ear.
There are things
you need to know.
What things?
I ask her.
Hush, just listen, she says.
Your father is a bear.
I flinch and make
to move away.
I stare at Mami
like she’s lost her mind,
but she grabs my wrists
and draws me closer.
There isn’t much time
and I must tell you everything.
Listen. Your father
is not your real father;
he is only Liba’s father.
I fight my mother’s arms.
Why are you telling me this?
Mami holds me even tighter.
Please. I will explain.
I bite my lip and swallow hard.
I close my eyes
and let myself be
still still still.
Mami tells me
a story
about a bear
and a swan.
We lived in a cave,
she tells me,
and I would sit
and stroke his fur
and watch the stars
above, dreaming
of a different kind of life.
I loved him like I loved
the sky, the air and sun,
the rain and moon and stars,
she says, as she strokes
my hair.
He was beautiful and dark,
funny and wise.
I thought I would never
find anyone like him
as long as I lived.
Soon I became pregnant with Liba.
She was born, a tiny cub
brown and white and fierce.
And I thought she was
the most beautiful thing
in all the world
but I was wrong.
Because when you were born
I learned that I am blessed
beyond measure
because both of you
are the stars
in my sky. Laya,
I am a swan.
And you are a swan
like me.
I start to shake
in my mother’s arms,
Stop! You’re making this up.
Why are you telling me this?
I struggle to break away
but her hands are firm.
No, Laya.
She looks into my eyes
and I see myself
reflected in the gray
that stares back at me.
Eyes like mine
and skin that’s white,
hair that’s fine
and golden.
I don’t understand
but I want to hear more.
My arms go slack
as she kisses
the top of my head.
My great-grandmother
was the third daughter of a Tsar;
she married the Emperor
of Russia. One day
he went away
and in his absence,
she gave birth
to a beautiful baby boy.
Her sisters were jealous of her;
they sent a message
to the Emperor
that she’d given birth
to a beast,
a creature so hideous
that none could bear
to look at it.
The Emperor sent word to wait
until he got back
but the sisters forged a note
that said: cast my wife off
in a barrel, with her son,
and send them out to sea.
While out at sea
they came upon a swan
who saved them both
from drowning.
The swan fell in love
with the Tsar’s daughter
and together
they started a family.
The Emperor mourned
and worshipped her
all his life.
People still do.
She is Anna of the Swans.
She became a saint
and people pray to her now.
She became
what she needed to be
to save herself.
One day, before you were born,
Berman and I fought.
He stormed out.
Your real father, Aleksei,
heard my cries
and came to me.
I was wrong.
It was the wrong thing to do
but Laya, you must know
he did not force me.
What? I shake my head,
struggling again.
Silence! Mami says.
She speaks faster now,
more urgently,
but in a voice so low
I struggle to hear
what she says.
Tati caught me with your father;
he turned into a bear in rage;
Aleksei was killed,
and with his dying breath
he shifted into a swan
one last time.
Tati looked at me,
jaws full of blood and flesh,
and realized what he’d done.
He killed a man.
But not just any man.
A swan, like me.
My mate.
I fainted from shock,
and pain, and fear,
and when I woke
Tati was a man again.
He offered to leave,
to go away
in shame for what he’d done.
He shed his cloak that night.
He said he would not shift again.
That he’d never
go back to his family.
He left it all behind.
For me.
For us.
But soon I found out
I was pregnant again.
I didn’t know
until I saw you
that you were
Aleksei’s daughter.
There was no mistaking
the color of your hair,
your eyes, dark
like mine, and your skin
lily-white and soft,
like down, swan-skin.
Laya, until you were born,
I’d never known true grace.
You completed our family
and I regret nothing.
You were worth
all the blood and pain.
I’m only sorry—
I will be forever sorry—
that you will never know
Aleksei Danilovich.
Your father.
You are a swan, dochka,
just like Saint Anna,
and you too can become
what you need to be
when the time comes.
But one day, Tati’s people
will come for Liba.
He may have forsworn
his family,
but she is his heir:
he is next in line
to be the Rebbe
to replace his father,
and she is his daughter,
like royalty for his kind.
She will be sought after
by men and boys
who wish to claim
your Tati’s throne.
When the Rebbe dies,
they will need a successor
and I don’t know
what Tati will choose.
If they come for her,
make sure Liba knows
that she can choose.
She doesn’t have to live
a life she doesn’t want.
The changes are upon her.
Soon they will be
upon you.
You can fly, dochka,
don’t ever let anyone
tell you that you can’t.
But always be wary
of what, and who,
you leave behind.
You must stay here
and stay safe.
This may not be
the warmest town—
people do not understand
our ways—but it is safe here.
The people in these shtetlach
fear the things
that they don’t understand.
But they are good people.
They will protect you.
Mami stops and looks
around the forest.
My world tilts on its axis.
The forest is suddenly silent.
So Tati knows that I’m not his?
I ask.
Mami ruffles my hair.
One light, one dark,
he always says with pride,