YAGA | ✓

ELEVEN

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COLD AND CLAMMY, Yaga stifled an exhale, staring dejectedly at the flickering walls of the tent. Tonight, she slept with Johana, the bound tome sharing the stories of the foreign gods next to her bed. Perhaps they'd melted into her thoughts, for nighttime terrors had plagued her.

Death.

Decay.

Destruction.

She didn't enjoy it, not one bit.

Yaga stroked the crook of the dagger she'd stolen from Johana, watching the golden blade reflect the light from the moon. The candle had long flickered out, and even Johana, though she barely stated in the tent, preferring to stumble around the forest at night, had grumbled about her evening habits.

Her neck ached dully, eyes stinging. Running a hand through her hair, she slid the dagger into its sheath around her waist. She was tired - all she wanted was to sleep, though it was difficult. Everything that lurked in the darkness, those creatures in the shadows, had their ugly necks reared.

Watching.

A chill travelled down her spine. Saints, help me, she thought desperately. Willing for Johana to still somehow be awake, to feel some sort of comfort, she set her head down on the pillow. All around, the wind smashed against the tent.

In the distance, she could hear howls. Or was it - voices? By now, she would've recognised Milena and Nikolai's voices.

This was neither.

Before she could strain her ears to listen further, a sudden movement left her frozen in her pile of furs. Goosebumps raced down her skin, and Yaga bit her tongue to try and repress the scream that welled up inside of her.

Johana was standing over her, but she wasn't Johana.

With eyes narrow and feline, lips pursed, she silently crouched on the furs, knees pinning down Yaga's arms and hands around her throat. At first, she thought that Not-Johari was spitting on her face, but soon she realised that it was something far worse.

Blood dripped from her lips.

Landing in fat drops on Yaga's skin, she bit the inside of her cheek, struggling against the brutally tight burn of Not-Johari's hands. Nails raking, she tried, in vain, to move her, even slightly.

To buck her off, send her crashing to the ground.

"Who...are...you?" Yaga spluttered out.

Johari's face contorted into a cruel yet familiar smirk. "Witch born, my love. I can finally do what I've waited all my life to do."

That wasn't Johari's voice, not at all.

"Milena."

"Witch born, yet blessed by the Saints. Why is that so? Why is it that with every drop of blood you spill, a garden blooms?" Milena licked the blood from her lips. Almost to mock her, Yaga's finger twitched, and a wilted flower in one of Johari's jars began to regain its vivid colour, barely visible in the corner of her eye.

She smiled weakly.

Heart pounding furiously, she shivered as a curling braid of Milena-Johari's hair rested on her chest.

"Why do you hate me so, Milena?" she spoke lightly, mockingly, when the girl's grip loosened slightly. Though the chokehold had gotten weaker, the weight on her arms had been applied heavier.

A tear from Milena's cheek, now closer to Yaga's face than before, fell onto Yaga's lips.

The salt stung on her cracked skin.

"Me? No. I never hated you." As she spoke, her skin began to turn lighter, hair straightening and growing longer. Soon, Milena's bitter face was staring at Yaga.

"Jealousy is a fickle thing, isn't it? You were always so perfect. Your parents loved you so much. Dimitri loved you so much. You should've seen how everyone looked at you - like you were the best thing to ever happen.

They always told me, isn't Yaga so beautiful? Isn't she so clever? So witty? So talented? Such a lovely girl?

And I always nodded along, smiled. Because at first, I was happy. If you stayed my friend, then I would never be alone. People would like me. Because you were there. But then -" she broke off, voice thickened with sobs.

"Your grandfather died, didn't she? And you and your mother went, because he had been so sick. You were gone for what, three months? Helping your grandmother. What happened then, Yaga?"

You were caught. By the river, practicing what they called witchcraft, Yaga thought. But she wouldn't give her the satisfaction of pity, wouldn't give her the satisfaction of words to twist around. Tonight, she would be the one to conquer — not the other way around.

So she remained silent, instead a smirk sliding into her lips.

Milena growled. Her hands were back around Yaga's throat, this time completely stopping her from breathing. Yaga didn't waste time — she decided to do whatever she had to.

Besides, there were no more lines left for her to cross, were there?

Lifting her legs up with all the force in her body, she clawed at Milena's face as soon as her hands loosened from her neck. Letting out a howl of pain, Milena tried to cling on, but Yaga, forcing two pieces of grass to grow and fashion themselves into huge ropes, pulled her off.

"Where - is...Johana?" Yaga grunted, using all of her strength to keep Milena at bay.

"Dead." Milena smiled grimly. "Threw her into the river. Slit her throat. All her necklaces, too. No, Yaga, no-one is saving you tonight."

Her hair begun to bounce into light brown curls, face morphing into that of a feline-looking girl, though undeniably beautiful, with arching brows and downturning green eyes. The hair cascaded down her back, almost ethereal in the moonlight, magnificently thick and golden.

"They're coming. And you nowhere to hide, my love. When they see you, you will be the villain, Yaga. Do you know what they'll call you? Baba Yaga. Children will fear you as they lie awake. You'll be lurking in the shadows. Waiting to eat them up."

She laughed sweetly.

Yaga jumped up and slid her jagged nails along Milena's perfect face, hoping that it would leave some sort of scar. To carve a mark, imprint the untarnished skin.

"Like hell you will. Or I'll kill you right here."

She slid Johana's dagger out of her belt. Milena's body had been obscuring it, but now they were apart. Deadlier than ever. Her hold was clumsy, but it was the will that commanded it.

The first slash was to where Yaga had already scratched her, all the way down her cheek and carving into her eye.

Milena screamed.

The opening of the tent flung open, and two young men stood there. With wet cheeks and rain-soaked hair, Dimitri inclined his head.

"Long time no see, Yaga."

Yaga plunged the knife into Milena's cheek.

She smiled at Dimitri.

"Long time no see, indeed."

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