Baba Yaga Part Three

Part One here

Part Two here

PART THREE

It had been so long since I had seen the men of our village, I had forgotten them. How large and coarse they were, how they stank of sweat and alcohol, how they swore and laughed and beat their wives and children. And my father, leader of them all. Taller, and crueller than the rest. I had almost forgotten the feeling of his beatings. I had almost forgotten the sound of his voice.

“Katya, come out! We know you are in there!”

“Yanuschka! It has been over a year, how did they find me?”

Yanuschka put her hand to her mouth. “Blood calls to blood, Maraya. Whether you like it or not you are tied to him. Remember?”

It was such an innocuous thing, a silly accident over a week ago. I was cutting beets for dinner when I was distracted by a bird that had got into the house and was now being chased by Vanya.

There was a sharp pain, like heartbreak. I gasped in horror at the finger lying on the cutting board, among the beets. Blood was flowing from my finger, mixing with the beet juice, and all I could do was stare in horror.

“Maraya!” Yanuschka was running over to me, enfolding my maimed hand in her soft warm one. “It’s all right, Maraya, I am a witch, remember!”

When she released my hand, a tingling warmth spread through it. The pain was gone, and more than that, my finger was growing back. In moments, it was just as before. Not even a scar.

The other finger still lay on the chopping board, abandoned.

“Burn it”, she warned me. All parts of us are precious, they can be used against us.”

I had burned it outside in the yard, but I had no idea it was already too late. Somehow, that blood had called to my father, led him on the path to me. At dawn, when our cobweb weavings collapsed, the barrier had broken and the men had come for me.

I stepped out of the house, Yanuschka by my side. She grabbed my hand and I held onto it for dear life. Only her presence gave me the strength to not transform back into that cowed and brutalised child.

“I am here father. But I am grown now. I am Maraya, not Katya. I will no longer allow you to hurt me. I will stay here with my friend and live the life I choose!”

My father swore at that. He moved closer, a giant brute. “I would rather see you dead than corrupted by that witch! Do you eat children now, too?”

“Neither of us eats children. Neither of us has ever harmed a child. You are the one who hurts children, you and your friends. Beating your own children! What kind of man does that?”

There were howls of anger from the men. They moved closer, an angry mob. Never had any woman or child spoken to them like this. In the town, their power was supreme.

“Burn the witch”, my father told them. “Burn the house. We will take Katya back with us where she will learn to be an obedient child again.”

Our magic was strong and beautiful, it could make plants grow, balance nature. It was not the magic of warriors. It could do nothing against these men. Even as we tried to make the vines grow to hold them back, they chopped the vines with their knives and axes. They grabbed us. They bound Yanuschka hand and foot and put her inside the house. They bound me to a tree to watch as they set it on fire. Her screams seemed to go on forever.

My wrists and ankles were bloody from fighting against the rope, but there was nothing I could do. I had to listen to the woman I loved burn alive. When her voice fell silent, I slumped against my bonds, empty. I made no resistance when they untied me and led me back to the village.

They took me back to my father’s house. My mother wept over the state of me, but told me it was all my fault. She told me I should obey my father from now on.

Days merged into weeks. I did my chores, accepted the beatings. I was hollow inside. I felt that while I continued to live,part of me had died with Yansuchka. There was a stone in my chest where my heart used to be.

In all this time, I had never thought of Vanya. Until the day he came mewling to the door, half burned, limping.

I brought him in and gently cleaned his burns, I gathered herbs from the garden to make healing ointments. Every day he would come to me, and I would tend his wounds, feed him. He would leave before my father got home and my mother never mentioned it. I think she was too afraid to risk his fury. He would never have let an animal in the house, especially not if he realised who that cat belonged to. He would have drowned Vanya in the rain barrel.

After a time, Vanya’s burns had healed, although there were places that his coat would never grow back. He would lay on my lap by the fire and purr deeply as I stroked him. With his healing, some of my own strength came back.

One day, while I was stroking him, he finally spoke to me. He said my name, the name I only ever heard from Yanuschka’s lips, “Maraya.”

“Vanya? You spoke?”

“Of course I spoke. Have you forgotten everything Yanuschka told you? It’s time, Maraya. Time to leave this place and set out on our journey. We will go the places Yanuschka always dreamed of going. We will carry out her legacy. We will learn the secrets of the universe.”

“But how? My father will catch me again! He will kill us both!”

“Not this time, Maraya. You are ready. You can understand me now. I will tell you which herbs to pick, which words to say. Put them in your father’s dinner and he will forget you exist. You will be forever invisible to him. You will be free.”

For a while I wept, wishing I had this knowledge the first time I ran away. Then I pulled myself together. I was strong now. Vanya and I went into the woods and found the herbs. I put them in my father’s meal and said the words that Vanya taught me. He fell asleep at the dinner table that night. My mother and I carried him to bed as we often had before.

I could have left the place under the cover of night, but I knew that if the herbs did not work, my father would come after me again. So I waited until morning. I was up at dawn, having slept only a few hours. I helped my mother make breakfast. When my father awakened, he looked at me with bleary red eyes. “Who are you?” he asked.

It was my mother who spoke, “just a lady passing through the village, she gave us some herbs to spend the night in the barn, remember?” I saw love and apology in her gaze, and at that moment I forgave her for her inability to protect me all these years.

“Well, after breakfast she’s out of here. We don’t need another mouth to feed around here!” my father snapped. He wolfed down his porridge and then went outside to begin the day. My mother hugged me hard and then packed me the few morsels of food she could spare.

“Never come back to this place, be free!” she told me, as she sent me off.

I never did go back. Vanya and I had too much to discover.

***

This story has been a long time in the writing. I first began it in 2011, lost most of the notes (which were in hardcopy) until 2021, and finally finished it in January this year. 

(c)opyright Laura Morrigan 2011-2022