“Together we can defeat Smey.” I quietly echo Ivan’s words, to see how they feel, and my chest swells with a ripple of confidence and a flicker of hope. We have to do this, to right all the wrongs of the past.
Mousetrap leans over my brow and grins. “We will defeat Smey,” he trills, and I smile up at him. Yuri stands and nods his agreement, and Blakiston opens his wings and lets out a low, drawn-out hoot.
The house quivers with excitement and paddles closer to the shore, where a long, flat rock juts out, like a landing jetty. The Fiery Volcano towers over us, a monstrous, red-raw, fuming titan. The dark cavern in its side is so close that I feel the air sizzling inside it. My fur lifts, and my skin tingles. Smey, and the Lime Tree, are just a few breaths away.
Elena emerges from the house. She went inside during Ivan’s story to fix the arrowhead onto a shaft, and now she’s holding it up, beaming. The triangular ice-blue rock is firmly tied to a long, sturdy shaft with pale, sinewy cord. “It’s ready.” Elena turns the arrow around in her fingers. Its head glistens like starlight on snow, and the sharp edges flash like Ivan’s fangs.
My nerves charge with electricity, and my feet twitch. I’m ready to do this, but at the same time I’m more nervous than I’ve ever been. I step off the porch onto the boat deck, then turn around and look at the house. “You should wait here, on the ship. The ground looks hot and I don’t want you to catch fire.” The house’s door and windows narrow with disapproval, but it nods grudgingly.
“Oh, wait!” Elena removes a bundle of leather scraps from under her arm. “I thought I could wrap your and the wolf ’s paws, to protect them from the heat.”
Ivan nods and approaches Elena slowly. He holds out his paws one by one, and she binds them with strips of leather and cord. When she’s finished, Ivan growls a soft “Thank you.”
I let Elena wrap my paws too, and when I stand they feel strange. They might be better protected from the hot ground, but the vibrations through my soles have been deadened, so I feel as though I’ve lost one of my senses. It occurs to me that if I become human again, I’ll lose that sense altogether. I’ll miss my bear legs. I have to push the thought away before it distracts me.
“My hooves will be fine.” Yuri trots off the porch to join the rest of us.
“All right. Let’s go.” I nod to Yuri, Ivan, Elena, and Blakiston; wiggle my ear to check Mousetrap is still curled around it; and then walk to the gunwales of the ship. There’s a carving on one of the wooden planks, almost hidden by frost: For adventurers with belief and imagination. I remember Anatoly’s story—the one Elena told about the flying ship—and I wonder if this ship ever really flew.
A smile spreads across my face, because that would be ridiculous, like turning into a bear, or fighting a fire dragon, or asking an enchanted tree to break a curse. I might never know exactly which bits of Anatoly’s stories are true, but since I grew bear legs, at least I know for certain that anything is possible.
Something tightens around my chest, and my feet rise off the floor. For a moment I think the ship has taken flight. But then I realize one of the house’s chicken feet is lifting me up and over the gunwales.
I land on the long, flat rock below. It gives slightly and is warm, even through the leather coverings on my paws. A few steps away, water hisses and steams as it laps against a sharp and craggy shore.
Yuri is lowered down next. Then Ivan jumps into the water before the house can grab him, and clambers onto the shore himself. Blakiston glides off the roof, and Elena lets herself be lifted down. She hugs the long chicken claws affectionately. “Wait here. We’ll be back soon.” She waves to the house, hooks her bow over her shoulder, holds the arrow tight in her hands, and nods to me. “Ready?”
I nod, and gently nudge her toward Yuri until she realizes I want her to climb onto his back. “Oh! I’ve never ridden an elk before.” Elena puts her arms around Yuri’s neck and swings her legs up. “I’ve never ridden anything apart from a Yaga house.”
“You’ll keep Elena safe, won’t you, Yuri?” I ask.
“Of course.” Yuri nods confidently. “I’m an expert in fleeing. If things become dangerous for the Yaga girl, I’ll run back here, to the ship and the house.”
“Blakiston?” I call up to where he’s circling above us. He swoops down and lands on my back. “Would you fly ahead and look for a safe place for Elena to fire the arrow from?” Blakiston nods and takes off again.
“I’ll stay with you,” Ivan growls. “Together we’ll make sure the arrow finds its way to Smey’s heart.”
I nod. “If Elena and Yuri have to flee, it will be up to us.”
“And me.” Mousetrap scrambles over my ear, somersaults down my forehead, slips, and lands a foot in my eye. “Apologies.” He bows and curves his spine from side to side. “I’m warming up, ready for my war dance.”
I blink away the pain in my eye. “If you could remain around my ear, that might be safer for both of us.”
Mousetrap handstands on my snout, then flips over onto the top of my head. “It would be a shame if you didn’t get to see my war dance.”
I lead the way up the mountain, across the darkest, coolest-looking rocks. Thick caustic smoke seeps from cracks, and lava glows and flames in crevices. Heat waves distort everything, and I feel as though I’m climbing into a great oven. My mouth opens, my tongue hangs loose, and my breath rasps, short and sharp.
Blakiston circles around and lands on my back again. “There’s a platform in the cliff to the left of Smey’s cavern. I suggest that Yuri take the Yaga girl there. She’ll have a clear view to shoot the arrow at Smey but will be relatively sheltered from danger.”
“Can you lead them there?” I ask. “The rest of us will walk closer to the cavern entrance, and I’ll lure Smey out.” My voice shakes with anxiety that I try to disguise with a confident-sounding growl.
Blakiston nods, opens his wings, and flaps into the air. Yuri follows him, his hooves crunching across brittle rocks. Elena looks confused as we split up, but then she seems to work out the plan and gives me a reassuring smile.
I turn to the dark cavern ahead. “Do you know what Smey looks like?” I whisper to Ivan. “Is he big?”
“Smey can be as big or as small as he likes.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Fire dragons are made of fire,” Ivan snarls. “They can flare up to the size of a mountain or die down to a candle flicker.”
“Made of fire,” I murmur. A wave of heat radiates from the cavern and rolls toward me, but my blood shivers in my veins. I hope Anatoly’s story about the arrow is true—I hope it really can destroy a creature made of fire. But whether it can or can’t, I know I have to face Smey. I’d face a thousand fire dragons, armed with nothing but a snowball, to save Sasha and find a way home.
I walk closer to the cavern, across angry, biting rocks. Mousetrap is on my neck, Ivan by my side. Yuri clambers up a cliff to our left, with Elena on his back and Blakiston flying above.
The air shimmers, and my senses sharpen. Yuri’s hooves sound like thunder; Blakiston’s wingbeats flash like lightning. Elena adjusts her bow, and the swish of her hair is a gale. Ivan knocks a tiny rock, and it feels like an avalanche. My own heart is an earthquake inside me, because we’re about to face Smey.
The cavern is only a few paces away. From deep inside shines a bloodred light, so bright it hurts my eyes. My gaze drifts up and over the cavern, to the Lime Tree peeking through dark shifting clouds.
The tree’s bark looks smooth but tough, like Mamochka’s hands. The branches reach out, like her arms when she throws them around me for a hug. And for a moment I smell lime blossoms, reminding me so much of Mamochka that tears well in my eyes.
I breathe out slowly and step forward as gently as possible, one foot in front of the other. And with each step I tell myself: We can do this; we can cool Smey’s anger and save the Lime Tree, and Sasha, and me.
I feel so foolish. I had to walk deep into the forest befor
e I understood what I was leaving behind. I had to lose what I had before I realized how much I loved it. And I had to look back into my past to see what I want in my future—which is a family who loves me. And I already had one in Mamochka and Sasha and Anatoly. Sometimes I struggled to fit in at the village. But now that I’m far away, I miss everything about it. Some struggles, I realize now, are worth it.
Just like facing Smey will be worth it, so I can make everything right.
I stop still in front of the cavern mouth. Ivan is slightly ahead of me. His body, a dark silhouette against the shining light, appears tiny beneath the gaping entrance. The glow from the cavern intensifies and tendrils of thick gray smoke curl toward us. I squint, trying to see what lies beyond them, but can’t make out anything.
Then flames lick out and swirl together into a long, writhing ribbon. I stare, openmouthed, as the burning ribbon thickens and rises into a column. A glowing eye and a dazzling fang-filled mouth flash inside the fire.
The mouth opens slowly with a gentle hiss, then darts forward, erupting into a ball of flames that roars like a hurricane.
“Ivan, run!” I shout as I bolt away from the heat. But Ivan doesn’t follow. I hear his snarls, all emanating from the same spot. I glance back, and an arrow whooshes past, so close that it parts the hair on my neck.
“Sorry!” Elena shouts from the ledge in the cliff behind us. “Misfired.” The arrow soars into the distance and Blakiston and Ivan both chase after it.
The fire dragon grows wider and taller. I gaze in horror and awe as Smey takes shape. Three long necks unfurl and writhe like snakes in the air. On the end of each neck is a jagged, angular head with a pointed snout. With a crack like burning pine cones, a wide grin splits each of the three heads, and my courage fractures too. Three sets of flickering blue-green fangs rain droplets of fire that hiss and sizzle on the ground, and three forked tongues flash out like daggers of lightning.
I back away, anger and fear wrestling inside me. This is Smey, who killed my parents, who sends fires through the Snow Forest every year, and who is now standing between me and the tree that could save both Sasha and myself. I want to defeat him more than anything, to fix my grandfather’s mistake and make everything right. But faced with this behemoth of furious fire, I’m not sure how to do it.
Smey expands until he fills the sky. His three heads whip blindly around, nostrils high as if smelling the air. His eyes are dark and empty—all except one, which is a swirl of color: orange, red, purple, and blue. It must be true about my birth mother shooting five of Smey’s eyes. The dark and empty sockets are proof that her arrows quashed his flames—if only in those five small areas. My chest swells with pride and hope. Because if Smey’s flames can be put out, then he can be defeated.
The colorful eye finds me and flares brighter, then all three heads dive straight toward me. A wall of heat punches the breath from my lungs and I scramble backward on all four paws, heart pounding. I look around frantically, trying to spot something—anything—I can use as a weapon. There’s no sign of Ivan, Blakiston, or the arrow.
My gaze settles on a massive boulder above the cavern entrance and I run for it, but the steep slope slows me down and I hear the roar of Smey drawing closer. Mousetrap’s claws dig painfully into my ear as he grips me tight, but I’m so relieved he’s still with me I don’t mind.
Acrid whiffs of charring leather sting my snout as heat burns through the wraps covering my paws. But I keep my eyes fixed on the boulder. At the edge of my vision, I see Smey’s heads tracking me, his long necks undulating alongside me. Eels of thick black smoke roll from his mouths and gnaw at my throat.
My heart avalanches into my ribs, and my lungs tighten like pine cones in the rain. But finally I reach the boulder, which is nestled among thick, tangled roots, and I shelter behind it. I tear at the ground, shredding what remains of my leather paw coverings and throwing ashy soil into the air.
Smey’s smoke surrounds me, clogging and choking my airways. I hold my breath and dig, faster and deeper. For a moment I think the roots move to help me, but it must be the shifting smoke, or my imagination. When I think I’ve freed the boulder, I push it as hard as I can.
It doesn’t budge. I throw my whole weight at it and roar. Slowly, slowly it shifts, teeters, and, with a final great push, tumbles over the cavern entrance, straight toward Smey’s chest. He tries to shift out of the way, but he’s too big and too slow.
A thunderous bang rocks the volcano. Spark-filled air rushes up and swirls around me. I edge forward and peer down.
Far below, where the dragon blazed a moment ago, lies the boulder. A tiny ring of orange flames flickers around it.
“I did it!” I’m so amazed that I start to cheer in my roaring bear voice—but before the sound has left my mouth, Smey’s flames rise again from beneath the boulder, curling and swirling together even brighter and hotter than before.
Then Ivan, the glint of the blue-white arrow flashing in his jaws, charges toward the dragon. But with every step closer, Smey grows bigger. The dragon’s three heads form again and blast upward until they hover over Ivan like angry clouds, howling with a storm wind’s laughter.
Ivan lets out a blood-chilling snarl and tears straight through the center of the dragon.
“No!” I shout, and run toward him, skidding and tumbling down the slope.
But Ivan is inside the dragon already, a dark blur engulfed by flames. My heart drumrolls.
Ivan lashes his head from side to side, and the tip of the arrow shines a bright, brilliant white. Smey’s flames split where the arrow slices through them, and he bellows in pain. He swirls around, a mass of red fire, and I stare into the chaos, desperately trying to spot Ivan again.
I see him, right in the center of the swirl, still slashing at Smey’s flames though his fur is ablaze. “Ivan!” I yell. “Stop! Come back!” But he doesn’t hear me, or chooses not to.
I have to get him out of Smey before he burns up completely. So I take a deep breath and run toward him, into the fire.
Flames snap at my snout, my ears, and my eyes, but I grit my teeth and charge on until I reach Ivan. He swings his head once more, and the arrowhead slices a deep, dark gash through the very center of Smey.
A scream surges from the wound and I glimpse a pulsing, beating heart made of fire. Ivan lunges forward, to tear through Smey’s heart, but an explosion of light and heat bursts out in all directions, flinging us backward.
Ivan whimpers in pain as he lands awkwardly and the arrow flies from his mouth. I watch it land a few yards away. I look from the arrow to Smey’s burning heart, exposed in the depths of a dark wound. I could run to the arrow, grab it, and tear through the heart myself … But I look back at Ivan. He’s still, his fur smoldering.
I bound over to him and gather him in my front paws. Then I rise onto my back legs and stumble out of Smey’s flames. Blinded by the darkness away from the light, I struggle up to the ledge where Elena is calling for us. Behind her is a patch of snow. I collapse into it and throw cold slush over Ivan and myself until our fur stops smoking.
Ivan struggles to his feet. “Did I defeat Smey?” he asks. But as he looks behind me, dragon fire reflects in his eyes, and his face drops. I turn and follow his gaze. My heart sinks. Smey has re-formed and is growing larger with every moment.
“I failed,” Ivan growls. His face disappears into shadow as the last rays of sunset sink into the ocean behind us. Darkness rises all around, broken only by the raging flames of Smey.
“You haven’t failed.” I shake my head, staring into the flames. “Look at him.” There’s something unbalanced about Smey, and the dark wound Ivan inflicted has revealed his beating heart. “You cut all the way to his heart,” I whisper. “I’m sure he’ll be easier to defeat now.” But I frown and bite my lip, because I don’t know how to fight Smey without the arrow.
Then Blakiston swoops toward us, straight out of Smey’s chest. The tips of his wings are on fire, but he has the arrow in his
claws. Hope surges through me. I hold my breath as one of Smey’s heads snaps at Blakiston, but he swerves out of the way and drops the arrow into Elena’s lap. Then he lands beside me and rolls over, dousing his feathers in snow.
“This time the Yaga girl will pierce Smey’s heart.” Yuri lifts his head and stands tall and steady.
I look at Elena, anticipation tingling under my fur. She fits the arrow to her bow and draws back the string. Smey’s heart is less than ten yards away and is as big as Ivan. But as she takes aim, Smey swirls around. His heart disappears into the flames and reappears in a different place.
“This is impossible.” Elena groans as she tries to adjust her aim. Then she frowns, lowers her bow, and peers at something on the ground in front of Smey. Something tiny. “Mousetrap!” she yells. “Come back.”
It’s only then that I realize Mousetrap is no longer curled around my ear, but is standing in front of Smey, limbering up.
“Mousetrap!” I cry. “Come back here!”
But he just smiles. And starts to dance.
Mousetrap springs straight up into the air. His back is arched, his limbs stiff and reaching. When he lands, his body begins flowing smoothly in and out of intricate knots. He darts back and forth, halting abruptly to stare at Smey before continuing with complicated sequences of leaps and backflips.
His fur shines, sometimes coppery, sometimes rust red or burnished gold with the reflections of Smey’s flames.
Smey’s heads sway as they track Mousetrap’s movements, and his flames subside. Mousetrap somersaults, twists, cartwheels, and performs handsprings, and Smey becomes hypnotized.
My own thoughts drift away. There’s no rhythm to Mousetrap’s movements, but I can’t take my eyes off him. And as I watch, I’m overcome with a heavy sleepiness that weighs down every muscle of my body. My eyelids droop.
The Girl Who Speaks Bear Page 16