YAGA | ✓

FOUR

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YAGA SLICED THROUGH THE AIR with her hands, fingers curved and knuckles white with effort. Darkness engulfed them as the terrified villagers attempted to flee, taking their lanterns with them, but the trees were too dense, pushing in on them from every direction, allowing a select few to escape the scene. People knocked each other over, candles falling to the ground, trampled underfoot in the swarm, and Yaga forced her way through the horde, coming to a stop in the middle of them with her arms spread out around her.

"Stop. Stop." She bit her lip, ideas swarming in her head. She had to get out, knowing that if she stayed, she'd be dead long before the sky began to bleed red with smears of sunrise. After all, the night was still young, as long as it had already felt, which meant two things - more time to escape and therefore more time to be caught. To be tied to the pyre and forced to watch the flames roar beneath her. Maybe they would catch onto her dress first, and she'd be lucky enough to have the smoke in her lungs immediately. Or maybe, she'd stand there for hours on end, flesh boiling, waiting to die, unable to even writhe in agony.

Yaga had never liked fire, as much as she enjoyed playing with it.

It was then that she realised the villagers had fallen into terrified silence.

Waiting.

"I don't want to hurt you," she announced, keeping her voice level. It was true, as much as she knew everyone would villainise her. In the corner of her eye, she saw a figure she recognised as Dimitri get on his horse, a lantern in his hand, attempting to try and control the crowd, but there were too many people. Yaga closed her eyes as hands pulled at her clothes and hair, villagers crushing each other in an attempt to get to the witch, to spit on her or deliver a punch or a slap somewhere.

She cleared her throat, but this time, no one paused to listen, continuing their screaming and roaring.

"She's got me!" a woman shouted, and Yaga resisted the urge to pierce a tree through the woman's guts, marvelling at her stupidity. The lady was nowhere near her, instead having brushed against a jutting root of one of the many trees around them.

Shut up.

A few more people shouted the same thing, looking around, wide-eyed, for danger - inviting it to them with every movement - weak, hunted animals.

As someone scraped some sort of blade across the exposed skin of her arms, her cloak having been trampled underfoot, Yaga decided that enough was enough.

"No-one move."

Salovo's residents froze in fear as Yaga unclenched her fists, a burst of movement from the edge of the clearing drawing their attention. A mighty oak, withered with age and towering over them all, began to move, its roots unfurling from the ground and lashing out like whips, striking a few unlucky people with a sickening crack. For a moment, Yaga watched it unfold, before smoothly slicing through the air with her other hand, bringing a row of smaller, younger oaks to a position that almost resembled a bow.

They met the ground with a loud thud, and Yaga bit back a smirk as she made the old oak do the same, causing people to run out of the way, screaming. Lanterns were trodden into the dirt or discarded in the river as the crowd attempted to get out as quickly as they could, some pausing to search for family members and others just running for their lives. Knocking down a few more trees to distract everyone, Yaga commended herself for not being caught, listening to the sound of wails and screams for a moment longer as she sank into the cover of darkness.

She'd thought that this night would be her last, but as she looked out into the waiting mouth of the forest, Yaga felt more alive than she'd ever before.
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