The Girl Who Speaks Bear

by Sophie Anderson

  “I can’t understand you when you’re a bear, Yanka.” Valentyna glances up at me. “But if you’re asking about this boy, I’ll do everything I can.” She turns on her heel and disappears into the house with Sasha’s body, leaving me lost in a tangle of hope and fear.

  Sasha’s ghost stays on the porch, looking as scared and confused as I feel. “She called you Yanka.” He floats toward me and peers into my eyes. “Is it really you?”

  I lower myself onto all fours and nod.

  Sasha shakes his head in disbelief. “What happened to you?”

  Even if I could speak, I wouldn’t know where to begin. I stare down at my long, dark claws and shrug.

  “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?” Sasha’s eyes fill with hurt. “We’ve always told each other everything. I’d have only wanted to help.”

  I wish I could apologize. I’ve been so foolish. When Sasha saw my legs, I should have explained. I should have told him how I felt. But I ran away and left him at the Silver Stream and now … I look up at Sasha. At his ghost. He’s dead or dying, and it’s all my fault. A groan rolls from my mouth.

  “I can’t believe you’re a bear.” Sasha reaches out to touch my face, but his fingers pass right through me. The sensation sends hot sparks along my snout and I sneeze. Sasha pulls his hand back and stares at it in confusion. “And I can’t believe I’m … This is so weird.” He laughs, but there are tears in his eyes.

  I shift from one great paw to the other, not knowing what to do to make this right.

  “Hey, Yanka.” Sasha nudges my shoulder, sending another flurry of sparks through me. “Whatever else we are, we’re still best friends, right?”

  I look up at him, blink away my own tears, and nod.

  “Sasha.” The door swings open and Elena steps out. “My mother wants you inside, with your body.” She sweeps Sasha’s ghost indoors as if he’s made of nothing but smoke.

  “Wait!” I call after him. I don’t know what my words sound like to him, but he stops and turns around. “I’m sorry.” I stare into his misty, see-through eyes and will him to understand. “I’m so sorry. For everything. Please don’t die.”

  “I’ll see you soon, Yanka.” Sasha smiles. “Don’t run off, trying to get a head start on our next race.” He disappears into the house with Elena and I stare after them, worries avalanching onto my shoulders.

  Mousetrap leaps from the roof and lands on my neck. He scampers up to my ear and curls around it. “I’m sure the human boy will be fine. The house tells me the Yaga woman is both ancient and wise.”

  The porch steps stretch toward me, and the balustrades open like welcoming arms.

  “If you listened”—Mousetrap nips my ear—“you would hear the house inviting you to sit on its porch.”

  I look up at the house, and the roof curves into a smile.

  “Sit next to me,” Yuri calls, and shuffles along to make room. “You can share my blanket.” He nudges a green woolen blanket from beneath his legs and spreads it out with his snout.

  I step as gently as I can onto the porch and edge my way around to Yuri. The balustrades swell and curve to allow me to pass. “How are your wounds?” I ask, peering at Yuri’s back. The worst one has been dressed with aloe leaves and smells a little of Mamochka’s beeswax and sandalwood balsam. It’s not the same, but just the hint of home makes my eyes sting.

  Suddenly aware of my own wounds from the wolf pack, I turn around, and without thinking, start licking the ones I can reach.

  “I’m much better, thank you. The Yaga woman and her daughter are good healers.” Yuri looks up at me and sniffs loudly. “I was upset by you leaving though. You told me you’d be my herd, then you left.”

  “It was rude of you to leave without explanation,” Mousetrap agrees. “I was frantic when I woke to find you gone.”

  “I’m sorry.” I apologize to Yuri, then try to look up at Mousetrap, but he’s out of sight on the very top of my head. “I’m so sorry, Mousetrap. I should’ve taken you with me.”

  “Yes, you should have.” Mousetrap leans over my snout and I breathe in his familiar smell of dust and earthy musk.

  “I’ve made the same mistake so many times. I left you, and Mamochka, and Sasha …” A lump grows in my throat. “And now Sasha … because of me, he’s …”

  “Enough.” Mousetrap stomps onto my snout. He’s so close that my eyes cross when I look at him. “The human boy will be fine. Listen.” He lifts a paw to his lips, and his ears perk up.

  I lift my own ears and hold my breath but hear nothing. “What is it?” I whisper.

  Mousetrap shakes his head in disappointment. “I thought you’d learned to listen.”

  I frown and swivel my ears all around. I hear Yuri’s calm breathing, Blakiston grooming his feathers on the roof above us, the creak of floorboards inside the house, and the gurgle of the stream alongside it. I hear the treetops whisper and a squirrel scoot up rough bark. I smell Ivan, somewhere in a shadowy thicket, and I hear one of his paws brush the earth. But that’s it. Nothing else. “What?” I ask again. “What can you hear?”

  “The house,” Mousetrap trills. “The house is trying to talk to you.”

  I look up at the eaves. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you at all.”

  “The house wants to tell you a story.” Mousetrap climbs back onto my head and curls around my ear. “I’ll relay it for you, if you like.”

  “Please.” I nod.

  “It’s a true story.” Mousetrap nestles deep into my fur. “Of how the house and the Yaga woman saved a life once.”

  “They did?” Hope flickers in my chest that the house and Valentyna will save Sasha too.

  “Yes.” Mousetrap nips my ear. “Now mind your manners and listen.”

  Once upon a time, a fisherman died. His soul drifted through the forest, drawn to the skull lights surrounding a Yaga house. The door of the house opened, and inside was a warm fire and a cloud of cold dead souls.

  “You’re dead,” said the Yaga of the house with a smile. “You have come here to remember and celebrate your life before you move on to the stars whence you came.” The Yaga passed the fisherman a glass of rich, dark kvass and a bowl of thick, spicy soup.

  More dead arrived, and they all ate and drank by the fire until their souls were warm and full. The Yaga house buzzed and sparked with stories being shared.

  The fisherman remembered his childhood with an aching heart, but when he spoke of his time at sea, his eyes lit up and all the souls in the house stopped to listen. The fisherman conjured wide, open skies and deep, dark waters that changed with each kiss of the wind. He drew mountainous waves and shivering ripples and sea-foam as frothy as snow. Monsters and mysteries danced in his words, and adventures tripped off his tongue.

  The Yaga house was entranced. Unable to contain its excitement, it rose onto its great chicken feet and galloped through the forest, determined to find its own adventures at sea.

  “Stop!” shouted the Yaga, and she banged on the rafters. “We need to guide the dead.”

  “Stop!” shouted the dead, and they swirled in confusion. “We need to move on to the stars.”

  But the fisherman kept telling stories, of enchanted waves and shining treasures and creatures that glowed in the dark.

  And so the house ran on, all the way to the Northern Sea. It splashed into the surf and waded deeper and deeper, until water seeped through its floorboards and walls.

  “Stop!” yelled the Yaga. “We don’t know how to swim.”

  “Stop!” screamed the dead. “We’ll be lost in the waves, like the souls of the haunting rusalki.”

  But the fisherman kept telling stories, of sunken cities and forgotten islands and fish that leaped to the stars. And the house paddled on through the water, faster and faster, until it was swimming far out to the sea. It grew a leaf sail that billowed and bowed and swept the house toward the horizon.

  The Yaga sighed, because the house would not listen, and she sat to think up a
plan. She looked at the fisherman and realized his stories were so full of life that he must be freshly dead—perhaps so fresh that he might be saved. “House,” she boomed, “this fisherman is not ready to go to the stars. Quick, paddle back to shore. We must find his body and reunite it with his soul.”

  The house sank a little in disappointment. But it turned and swam back to the shore. After all, who would not save a life if they could? The house sloshed from the water and shook its feet dry. Then it raced through the forest until it found the body of the fisherman, broken and burned beneath a fire dragon’s cavern.

  The Yaga grabbed the fisherman’s soul and ran to his body. “Get back in,” she ordered with such fierceness that the fisherman dared not refuse. He lay down in his body and breath surged into his lungs.

  Pain shot through the fisherman’s limbs and darted over his skin. But the Yaga dressed his wounds, gave him herbs for the pain, and left him with food and water to recover. Then she returned to the Yaga house, to guide the rest of the dead in peace.

  The Yaga house smiled at the fisherman, pleased it had saved his life, and walked calmly back into the forest. But it glanced at the ocean once more before the waves disappeared behind the trees, and promised that one day it would have its own adventures at sea.

  As Mousetrap finishes the story, Elena steps through the door, pulling her shawl tight around her chest. “Sasha is doing much better. His soul is back in his body and he’s breathing.” Relief floods through me until Elena continues, “But he’s unconscious, his breathing weak, and there are mottles of frostbite all over him.”

  Frostbite. People lose fingers and toes—even whole hands and feet—to frostbite every year. If that happened to Sasha because of me, I’d never forgive myself. I rise to my feet, wanting to do something to help, but there’s nothing I can do.

  “You should probably stay sitting,” Elena says as the house creaks and shifts beneath us. “We’re going to move closer to the village—not so close anyone sees us, of course, but close enough for my mother to sled Sasha to your mamochka. Anatoly left his sled here as well as his dogs, and we can make Sasha comfortable for a short journey. My mother says your mamochka is a far better healer than her, and the best place for Sasha to wake is at home, with his family. Not in a Yaga house surrounded by us scary witches.” Elena laughs, but it’s a hollow sound that doesn’t hide her concern. Sasha might be doing “much better” than dead, but clearly he’s still in grave danger.

  The house lurches upward, and Mousetrap leaps onto my back. “The human boy doesn’t look good at all,” he squeaks into my ear. The house turns as it rises and I glimpse Ivan stepping out from the shadows. He stares at me with his golden eyes, and my head fills with thoughts of fire dragons and curses, enchanted trees and wishes.

  An idea sparks into my mind like pine crackling on a fire.

  “Stop!” I stumble along the porch toward the steps, though they’re high above the forest already.

  “What’s wrong?” Elena and Mousetrap ask at the same time.

  “I can’t go back to the village!” I shout.

  “Why not?” Mousetrap leans over my face.

  “There’s no time to explain. Please, just let me down.” I look up at the roof and sigh with relief when the house swings back to the ground and I’m able to step onto the riverbank.

  Yuri slips and slides along and off the porch and lands in a heap beside me. “You’re not leaving me again,” he says firmly. “We’re a herd, remember?”

  I look into Yuri’s big brown eyes and finally understand what being part of a herd means to him. It’s like what family means to me. Realizing Mamochka and Sasha are my family has given me a home and a place to belong. That’s what Yuri is looking for too.

  “You’re not coming with us?” Elena looks from me to Mousetrap to Yuri.

  I shake my head and back away, wishing I could explain.

  “It’s all right.” Elena nods. “I think I understand. There’s not much you could do in the village to help.” She taps the balustrades. “I know … We’ll drop off my mother and Sasha, then come back to find you. What do you think, House?”

  The whole house nods before surging back up. Blakiston swoops down from the chimney and lands on a branch behind us. Elena waves as the house turns, picks up speed, and disappears into the night. I stare after it, hoping with every breath that next time I see Sasha, he won’t be a ghost.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?” Mousetrap nips my ear and I flinch.

  “Will you stop biting my ears?” I growl.

  “That wasn’t a bite.” Mousetrap snorts. “It was a gentle nibble to get your attention.”

  “Wolf!” Yuri suddenly screams, scrambling backward.

  “It’s all right.” I step between Yuri and Ivan, who is walking toward us, his fangs flashing in a wide grin. “This is Ivan. He won’t hurt you.” I glare at Ivan, hoping to make it clear that I won’t let him attack Yuri. I roll my shoulders to make myself look bigger, but on all fours I’m not much taller than Ivan.

  “But he’s a wolf,” Yuri squeals. “A wolf!”

  “He’s part of our herd,” I say, hoping the word will calm him. “Me, you, Mousetrap, Blakiston, and Ivan. We’re a herd now.”

  Yuri looks around at us all and lifts his head high. “We’re a herd?” he repeats hopefully.

  Ivan’s eyes flash in the darkness as he nods. “I’ll join your herd, to help you fight Smey.”

  “Fight Smey?” Mousetrap runs down my snout and turns to stare at me. “Smey the fire dragon?”

  I shift my weight on my paws, suddenly unsure of my idea. It made more sense when I was on the house’s porch. “Maybe not fight him. I just need to get past him. Ivan says Smey guards the Lime Tree. It can grant wishes, so if I can get to it—”

  “She can wish to be human again,” Ivan interrupts, shaking his fur impatiently. “Can we go now? It’s a long journey to the Fiery Volcano.”

  “Fighting a fire dragon will be difficult and dangerous. Even for someone with hunting skills as exceptional as my own.” Mousetrap inspects his claws in a shaft of moonlight. “Are you sure you want to do this? You’re still human in there, despite your current appearance.”

  “I have a more important wish than wanting to be human.” I look back in the direction the house walked, thinking about Sasha. I need him to recover. He’s my family, my herd, my home. I failed him at the Silver Stream and now I need to make things right. “I’m going to wish that Sasha makes a full recovery.”

  “You can wish whatever you like, as long as we defeat Smey.” Ivan walks a few paces north, then glances back at us. “Come on, herd,” he growls. “The night is wasting.”

  I bound after Ivan, worries churning inside me—for Sasha, and for the others too. All I know about fighting fire dragons is that it’s dangerous, and I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.

  “Where’s your old herd?” I ask Yuri, wondering if I could get him safely back to them before we reach Smey.

  “They don’t want me anymore,” Yuri grumbles. “The young males always get kicked out before the spring mating season.”

  “Where do the other young males go?”

  “Some wander alone. Some form small groups among themselves.”

  “Perhaps we could find one of those groups for you to join?”

  “But you’re my herd now,” Yuri says proudly. “You said so yourself.”

  “We are.” I groan. “I just don’t want you to get hurt fighting a fire dragon because of me.”

  “Herds stick together, especially during times of danger.” Yuri skids on a muddy patch. “You’ll need me.”

  “The prey animal is right,” Ivan growls. “All the members of a pack can be useful.”

  “But Yuri is just a young elk.” My brow furrows with concern. “And Mousetrap a tiny house weasel.”

  “With exceptional hunting skills,” Mousetrap squeaks into my ear.

  “You are strong and brave and brill
iant, but I don’t know what you can do to help fight a fire dragon, Mousetrap.” I shake my head. “I don’t even know what I’m going to do.”

  “Many years ago, I was asked to fight with an unusual pack.” Ivan slows his pace until he’s walking alongside me and Yuri. “I was doubtful of the others’ strengths, especially the crayfish, but together we defeated the Giant Deathless.”

  “We’ve heard this story,” Mousetrap trills. “Do you remember, human girl? Anatoly told it to us fifteen seasons ago.” I smile at Mousetrap still calling me human girl despite the fact I’ve completely turned into a bear. Then I try to remember the stories I’ve heard about the Giant Deathless. They’re some of Anatoly’s most fantastical tales, and although I’ve enjoyed them, I’ve never truly believed in an evil immortal giant rampaging through the Snow Forest.

  “Would you like to hear the story again?” Ivan asks.

  “Yes, please.” I nod. A flush of warmth runs beneath my fur, because whether this story is true or not, and whatever happens next, this moment feels suddenly special. Ivan, Yuri, Mousetrap, and Blakiston all want to stay and help me, and it makes me feel part of something. Like I belong.

  Walking side by side with Yuri and Ivan, Mousetrap curled around my ear, and Blakiston flying above, with the river burbling and the leaves whispering, I feel part of Yuri’s herd, and Ivan’s pack, and even part of the magic of the forest itself.

  “All right.” Ivan clears his throat with a growling bark. Then he begins with “Once upon a time …”

  Once upon a time, the Giant Deathless came to the Snow Forest. He was taller than the trees, harder than the rocks, and as heartless as the midwinter frost. His breath was so rancid that birds fell from the sky, and he picked and ate wolves like cherries, gobbling them up and spitting out their skulls like pits. He snapped the angelic birches to use as toothpicks, and he drank from the river until the waters were so low that fish floundered and crayfish crawled away to the ocean.

  One of the humans who lived in the forest, a great warrior called Nastasya, felt her heart ache to see the Snow Forest plundered, so she vowed to get rid of the giant. First, she went to the Yaga in the darkest part of the forest, to ask her advice.