Night Witch

Chapter 33

She couldn't do it.

She couldn't drive it towards his heart, or his neck, or anything. It was like a thin membrane covered him, causing her hand to quiver and shake the second an arrow came within an inch of his skin--or fur. Fur, because he was a creature now thanks to whatever fountain had exposed his true colors. Fur. She had to remind herself that this was not Hans and was, that he was all of every bad quality her former friend had had and none of the good. 

He wasn't her friend, he was a monster, and--

the arrow fell to the ground.

"Girl, did you catch anything--" Karina didn't move even as Baba Yaga's gravelly voice rubbed harshly against her ears, nearly blocking out the fierce panting that came ragged from the beast's mouth. She was frozen. 

"Get it inside." 

And so she did, because it followed her wherever she went--past the old woman, through the door with the strange knocker, down the hallways that seemed to slant under her bare feet. She sat down on the hearth of Baba Yaga's main room and waited for the older woman to appear. It didn't take long.

"Vasilisa, what is this? It's not dead."

"I found it and--"

"You couldn't kill it." Baba Yaga's words cut like a blade. "What is it."

"A Ha--a monster."

Baba Yaga clucked her tongue, then circled the beast three times. It had odd ears that stuck up, and they pricked up even higher as Baba Yaga and her too-long cloak swept around it like a cyclone. Then, the older woman tapped her foot three times, toes tapping on the wood, as though deep in thought.

"Bring me the leather book from atop the hearth." Karina scurried to comply, gathering the large book in her arms and trying not to cough on the musty scent. No matter how often it was used, it always seemed to be blanketed by dust. Baba Yaga opened the book to a random page in the middle section. After scanning it for a minute she slammed it shut and marched into the kitchen, the tome tucked under one bony arm. Karina didn't follow, instead keeping her eyes on the beast as several clangs emitted from the kitchen. 

The fur was dirty brown, and shaggy. It seemed to hang off of his smelly body, which had only seemed to grow longer and lankier in the time he had been gone--or had it? It was impossible to tell.

Baba Yaga entered the room with a large, black pot that she shoved at Karina, which caused the girl's shoulder to shudder in response. "Get some water in it," she barked, and so Karina grabbed the cold handle and hurried outside, pulling on a rope that was too soaked to not freeze her fingers off, and sloshing water against the sides of it. As she turned to go back inside, Karina could see a thin line of smoke trailing from the chimney of the house and causing the chicken legs beneath it to stamp impatiently at the discomfort. 

She walked back inside and set the pot atop the coals the way only an experienced hand could and said nothing at the small bundles that spilled out of the older yaga's arms. Even a few feet away, she could tell what they were: little packets of herbs, like her mother had used.

Karina could identify most of the smells as each little bag was ripped open by the crone's strong fingers. There was the lack of smell of salt, and the heady one of cinammon, and the sharp scent of pepper. Then there was the bright, fresh one of mint, and some black dust thrown into the cauldron that made the room swirl with dark smoke. Karina coughed and closed her eyes, willing the tears that pricked at the sting of it to go away. Heat pressed against her skin, and the fire crackled, and something clanked like iron chains, and Vasilisa--

wasn't there.

Karina shook her head, opened her eyes. She wasn't eight anymore. Wasn't going to be again. No. She was standing in a hut half made of bird legs, half made of anything else a yaga could find, waiting for her mentor to kill a ferocious beast that she didn't have the guts to. This was not the past, this was the present, and she couldn't let herself get confused again.

So she tried to focus on what she saw, what she smelled. The noxious smelling smoke was gathering thickly around them, and her vision grew fuzzy at the edges, but she could still somehow make out Baba Yaga reaching a withered hand into the folds of her dress and pulling out a pale, cloth packet. She could still see the red flowers she'd picked at for hours being thrown into the cauldron, and white smoke from that puffing up in small wisps, then snaking around her like rope.

Then the Forest of the Dead and its jagged edges, and herself leaning against the monster before his figure matched his mind, and then them kissing like a tomorrow would never arise, and then her vision cleared into sparkles like she was looking at a sun made only of the twinkling of stars, and--

She saw words flash in front of her eyes, things she could understand even less than monsters kissing her. Letters. Words. Sentences, maybe. Stories, even. 

A howl that spelled desperation easier than any of those letters spelled words.

Then, thoughts, racing through her head, that came from eons ago when happiness had been a familiar and not a foreign song: I hope we have meat for dinner--I love Ol--I don't want to be al-- I'm--

"Get up, girl."

She was back at Baba Yaga's. The contents of the pot were bubbling. She tried to pinpoint an exact scent, but it slithered past her nose and transformed from rotten eggs to gingerbread to molasses to fresh turned dirt.

She stood up. She saw the woman's gaze and did what it told her. Through the Dark that bothered her just as much as the Light had, she brought the beast down to the room where she found the bow. Shoved him in the corner. And tried not to say anything.

And there he was, trapped under a cloak, mewling like a cat soaked in water. He gazed at her, and she slammed the door, pressing her back against the other side as she learned to breathe again.

She should have done a better job at killing him.

Hi, all! This here will mark the end of my author's notes, as right now, I am doing my best to finish this first draft and will be doing a mass update of the end of the story. But please, feel free to comment your thoughts and vote if you enjoyed no matter what chapter! I've missed you guys while I've been busy, and I hope that we can keep talking more. 

Hugs,

Anna