by Rena Rossner
“Do you really think it’s possible that she knows nothing?” Ruven asks him.
“Can you please talk to me? I’m right here. What am I supposed to know? Why have you tied me up like this? What does any of this have to do with me?” I am cold with fear. “Are you going to kill me? Did you kill Jennike and Mikhail?”
“What? No!” Ruven barks.
“Then what do you want from me?”
“Your father comes from a long line of Chassidim, Rebbes who are considered almost like royalty by their followers. It is no small thing that the Rebbe died, and if your father is named his successor—as he should be—that means that you and your family are part of that dynasty.”
“But there are others who seek to discredit your father,” Alter says. “Who think that because of your mother, he is not worthy to lead us. And one of the considerations is … he has no heir. Only … you. You have no brother, and if you know anything about what you are, then you know that it is vital to us, to the Berre Chassidim, that what we are and what we can do is carried on.”
“Do you know what you are?” Ruven asks.
“Why should I tell you anything? You’ve shown me nothing but cruelty,” I say.
“Look. We can help you save your sister,” Alter says gruffly.
“What?”
“You heard him,” Ruven says.
“And you had to tie me up to tell me this?”
“No,” Alter says. “We will help you save your sister, but you have to tell us what we want to know.”
“We’re on your side, Liba,” Ruven says.
“How do you even know where Laya is?” I ask.
“The forest has ears,” Alter says.
“Okay. Fine.” I shrug. “Be cryptic. But if you want to help me, why did you kidnap me?”
“Because everything has a price, prietzteh.” Alter rasps in a gravelly voice.
“Ich hob dir! I’m no princess.” I spit at them.
Ruven shakes his head and laughs. “You know nothing. Alter, let’s go.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snarl.
“I’m sure those Hovlin men would like to make you into a malka, just like they’ve done to your sister who was as beautiful as the seven worlds, but that didn’t help her, did it?” Ruven taunts.
“Maybe she’s happy there.” I try to act nonchalant. “Who says I want to save her?”
“Because she will become their captive slave.” Alter’s voice runs cold as a knife blade. “A blood prisoner. A queen in name only. They will water their orchards with her lifeblood until she is nothing but a shell, a husk of herself. Just like they did to the Glazers and to Jennike and Mikhail. The blood that is being spilled in these woods, in towns all over Bessarabia, makes fruits that are as unnatural as the men who grow them. They have one goal and one goal only—to bring back the Kodari forest, their ancestral home. And they think that the fastest way to do that is to sow fear and hatred into people’s breasts. If people hate each other, they will blame each other, and eventually they will kill each other. And what better group of people to start with than the Jews?
“They kill a non-Jew—like Jennike—or anyone who gets in their way—like Mikhail. They spread rumors on the wind and poison people with their bloody fruit and their lies. They bring about a pogrom, but by the time it starts, they’re gone. Disappeared. Already setting up their lodge and their fruit stands in the next town. If your sister survives, she may become their Goblin Queen. But she will forever be shackled to their service—her human blood is the only precious thing about her. And if she dies first, they will simply find another victim.
“We thought we’d find your father and take him back with us, and we weren’t sure about you—if you were his daughter through and through. Because if you are, you are priceless. There are many men who would give anything to make the daughter of the new Rebbe their bride. You have yichus—pedigree—sure, but what we want to know is: do you have the holy blood?”
“Holy blood?”
“Can you shift, Liba? Can you change? Are you a bear? Or are you just a girl?” Alter says.
I swallow hard.
“But now that we’re here and we see what’s happening, in Kishinev,” Ruven adds, “and maybe in Dubossary next. We think we must try to stay and fight, to rid the woods of the goblins for good. Before Kupel is next.”
“Did you say goblins?” I whisper. Anything is possible, Liba, anything. I hear Mami’s words: know that people are not always what they seem.
“How can I trust you? I don’t even know you,” I bluff. “It sounds like a fairy tale.”
“He’s not meshugge, Liba. It’s true,” Ruven says.
“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. So many questions. You think that only in dreams the carrots are as big as bears?” Alter scoffs and ticks his head from side to side.
“Okay. Fine. Don’t answer me. Look, perhaps the fruit is enchanted, I admit that. And their last name is Hovlin. But they aren’t goblins. That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.”
“With a fairy tale and with a lie you can lull only children to sleep, don’t be naive, prietzteh,” Alter huffs at me. “Just like swans can’t turn into humans and bears can’t turn into men?” Alter scoffs and dismisses me with his hand. He starts to walk away.
“Wait!” I growl.
Ruven comes close to me and sniffs the air just like I’ve seen Tati do a thousand times. He looks at Alter. “Do you think it possible?”
“Oyfen himmel a yarid, in my opinion,” Alter says. “I don’t have time for this.”
“What are you talking about?” I wail as I feel tears begin to smart in my eyes.
“Okay, okay. Calm down. If we untie you, do you promise not to run?” Ruven asks.
“Waste of time, Ruvy. Aroisgevorfen,” Alter sings from across the way. He is packing up their things.
“I don’t promise anything,” I spit at him again.
“Fine,” Ruven sighs. “Have it your way.” He starts to walk away. “Come on, Alter, let’s go. Maybe a night alone in the forest will get her to change her mind.”
“Untie me immediately! A broch tzu dir!” I scream into the forest.
Alter runs over and shoves a piece of cloth in my mouth, gagging me again. He gets up close to my ear and says, “You can’t change the world with curses or with laughter, yenta. You need to shut up now.” His breath stinks of alcohol. I cringe. He walks back towards Ruven and they disappear into the trees.
I fume and chafe at the ropes that bind me. They sound so much like Tati that it hurts. Is Tati really the Rebbe now? I don’t want to go back to Kupel with them. I don’t want to marry a bear. And what are these stories they tell about goblins? They know about the swans … but why does this feel like a trap? If only I could get to my knives. If they’re even still on me … and what about my pistol—did they take that? I try to sense it at the small of my back, but feel nothing there. I feel myself getting angry again, but instead of trying to calm down I close my eyes and let the rage fill me. If I get mad enough maybe I can cause my claws to grow, and I can rip these ropes to shreds.
I harness the ball of energy that I feel building inside of me. I wrap it in cold black fury that feels as thunderous as a waterfall. I let that energy churn within me. Then I find hunger—it isn’t hard to find; it’s ever-present. I realize now that I expend energy always trying to calm it, to deny it. There’s no denying anything anymore. I don’t want to be tied to this tree. I don’t want any part of these men, or these enchanted woods. I don’t want to be tied to those Hovlin boys who took my sister. I don’t even want to be tied to Dovid anymore. I just want to be free.
I let it all roil inside me and I spread it through my body, from limb to limb, channeling it especially to my hands, trying with all my might to turn my anger into strength.
I am powerful in my own way, and I do know my own mind. I got so lost in trying to take care of everyone else that I forgot to take care of myself. It’s my turn now. And I’m goi
ng to be the beast I’ve spent so much time denying.
I feel my fingers tingling. It feels like pins and needles, but sharper. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and banish all negative thoughts. Concentrate, Liba, concentrate. What was it that Tati used to say? Necessity breaks iron. And suddenly I realize—that was how Mami freed him! You can become anything you need to be when the time is right …
The pain in my fingers is exquisite. It feels good. It feels like freedom. And just when I think that my fingers are about to burst into flames or fall off or lose sensation forever, I feel them open up. I feel my flesh melting away and nails burst forth. Yes! I gasp out in pain as I feel the sharp teeth in my mouth tearing through the fabric of the gag. I spit it out of my mouth, and then I roar. I twitch and slash at the bark behind me … the ropes come free and I drop to the ground, face first.
My feet are still bound to the tree. I reach a sharp-tipped hand down to my feet to slash at the ropes too, but then stop halfway. My hands feel different. I feel different. I bring my hand up to my eyes and scream in terror. Where my fingernails once were, there are now claws, black and sleek, like finely honed obsidian, and on the back of my hands and on my palms, thick sleek black-brown fur has grown in.
I hear the crunch of boots by my head.
“Well, well,” I hear Ruven say. He crouches down beside me. He strokes my hair and moves it out of my eyes. I realize that while my hands have turned, the rest of me feels normal.
“Don’t touch me!” I roar.
He takes my grotesque hand in his and just as I am about to slash at him, I watch as with perfect control, his hand grows claws and fur to match my own.
I shriek again, this time in fear.
“Shhh,” he whispers. “Calm down, Liba. It’s okay.” He looks to Alter. “Untie her feet. It’s okay—I got her.”
I feel the ropes at my feet go slack and I jump up with every intention to run.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Ruven says, catching me in his arms and holding me tight. “You’re not going anywhere like that.”
I struggle against him, but he doesn’t move. He’s bigger and stronger and he holds me in a vise so tight that I can barely breathe. Still I struggle, but he doesn’t budge an inch. Maybe if he thinks that I’m stopping the fight he’ll let go enough for me to bolt. I let myself relax in his arms.
He starts to ease the pressure, and I use all my strength to try to kick and claw at him to get away again. But he catches me and holds me harder than before. I know his arms will leave bruises. I can’t help it. I can’t control myself. I hate him. I hate everything and everyone—the Hovlins who have taken my sister from me. My parents who left us. Dovid who says he loves me but won’t love me when he finds out about this hideous beast inside me. And I hate myself, because I can’t save Laya. I can barely save myself.
“Shhh, Liba, shhhh. It’s okay,” Ruven says into my ear. I don’t want to listen to his words—I hate them, I hate him, but I’m suddenly too tired to fight. “Come. Let’s sit down by the fire now,” he says. “Alter, can you pour her something strong to drink?”
Alter grunts.
I shake my head. I feel broken.
Ruven lets me go and I slump to the ground. I try to wipe my tears away but I realize that my hands are still claws. Which makes me cry more.
“Here.” Ruven produces a handkerchief and dries my eyes. His hands are normal again.
“Help me,” I whimper. “Teach me how to turn them back,” I say, pointing at his smooth hands.
Alter clears his throat and looks at Ruven. “We can do that,” he says, “but first, you must make us a promise.”
“Why should I promise you anything?” I spit, suddenly angry again, but I can hear my voice is shaky.
“Genug iz genug!” I hear Alter say. “Can you complete the change, or can’t you? That’s what we need to know.”
80
Laya
Still I dream.
I wake up
in my own bed,
covered in Mami’s
feather blanket.
I have one, soft,
cream-colored feather
clutched in my fist.
Mami is
by my side.
She picks
small feathers
from my hair.
There will come a day
when you will need
to remember
what you are,
she says.
Why? I ask.
I cannot explain.
The day will come.
You will know
when it comes.
You must follow
your heart.
My heart?
I shake my head.
You will understand
when the time comes,
she says.
Why, Mami? I ask.
Shhh … let me
brush your hair.
You are as different
as the sun
is to the moon.
Both my daughters—
one day you will both
shine bright.
One day
you will learn
that love
does strange things
to everyone.
And that is when
you will have to
make a choice.
I toss and turn
as I dream.
What did she mean?
Have I already made
my choice?
Is it too late?
Is this love?
Or something else entirely?
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
What if I shifted
back into a swan?
Could I fly
away from here?
I struggle,
but the vines
hold me tight.
They run deep
in my skin,
and my blood
flows strong.
81
Liba
I close my eyes and hear my father’s voice: better to die upright than to live on your knees. I take a deep breath. I don’t owe these men anything.
But suddenly I know that there is only one answer. I know it in my bones the same way I crave meat and dream of cold dark rivers. I will show them what I am. How dare they doubt me and play these games. The rage fills my blood and my bones. The pain is both glorious and excruciating. I have power that courses through me that nobody can claim.
I start to change before their eyes. I am crouched down on all fours, panting, as I shift into the same bear form that I saw my father once take. I have the same fur—almost black, the same blue eyes—and I turn to roar at Alter, but suddenly he is a bear too. I bare my teeth and try to run, but he is faster, bigger, stronger. He catches me and blocks my way, and that’s when I hear another roar. It doesn’t come from me or him. I feel the rumble of it in my bones. I turn my head and see that Ruven too has shifted. And as much as I want to deny it, he is magnificent.
But that’s when we hear footsteps in the woods—all three of us turn and see men in the clearing.
“No!” I call, but it comes out only as a roar. It’s Dovid and his father and one of his brothers. They hold guns, and Dovid’s is trained on me.
I feel my eyes smart with tears and everything comes crashing down around me. This is the self-defense organization out on patrol. They are out hunting for the bear they think mauled Jennike and Mikhail. I know who did it, but I couldn’t find the proof in time. And now I am both predator and prey.
Alter jumps in front of Ruven and me. He roars and starts to charge at them. I don’t want to see anyone get injured, but I can’t let Dovid shoot me. I whimper, and soon I feel a paw on my back. It’s Ruven. He nudges me with his nose; I have no other choice but to follow him into the woods.
Once we are deep enough in the forest, Ruven shifts back into human form. He is naked, and I canno
t help but look at him, even though I shouldn’t. But I can’t think about him—I must think about Dovid, and my bear body fills with heat.
“I’ll be right back,” he says. “Please just stay here and hide.” It’s only then that I realize I have no idea how to turn back into myself again.
Ruven goes off. I’m scared. I try to turn myself into the smallest bear-shaped rock I can conjure. What if Dovid comes this way?
Soon I hear rustling in the trees. I brave a look up out of my rock-cocoon and see that Ruven is back and dressed. He holds a rucksack and I see him stuffing his bear-fur back into it.
“Alter must be trying to lose them or to chase them off. I just hope the old fool doesn’t get himself shot.”
I whimper again.
“Oh, deigeh nisht! He can take care of himself. You, on the other hand, cannot.”
I bare my teeth at him.
“Oh shush. How long have you known you could do this?”
I growl in response. This is the first time I’ve shifted, but I saw my father do it once …
He nods.
Wait, what? Can Ruven understand me? Nothing makes sense—there is so much that I don’t know. All I can see are Dovid’s hard, cold eyes looking at me across the barrel of his gun.
I close my own eyes.
How do I turn back? I ask Ruven in a bark.
“Still your body with calm. Fill yourself with a long stretch of river. Picture skin and hair, not fur and claws. Desire your old form but not with passion—with something like disinterest. With cold, calculated calm. Envision the fur washing off of you in water …”
As he speaks, I feel my bones and skin start to obey. I wish for cold air on my skin, for the peace of the river, for the days before I knew that I could do this. I beg the wind for the softness of my skin and the satin of my hair. It is less painful to turn back into the form I’ve always known.
I shed my brand-new coat as though I have come in from the cold. I look at my hand and see pink nails and flawless skin. Never have I been as happy to see my own body. I look up at Ruven and grin, only to realize that he is looking at me and that I’m naked. I cry out and try to cover myself, then see a bearskin at my feet. Not father’s, not Ruven’s—mine! I bend down to pick it up, but Ruven throws me a tunic.