A Wolf for a Spell Read online

  For a moment Zima was glad of the distance that separated them. Something in the angle of Veter’s ears and the stiffening of his tail told her that he really was ready to attack her witch body if it meant coming to the rescue of her wolf self. But she didn’t need him to come to her rescue, and she certainly didn’t need to be attacked.

  “She’s fine. Zima is fine,” Zima said.

  The tension that had pulled Veter’s whole body tight seemed to visibly loosen. He breathed out in relief. But where is she? I want to see her.

  “She’s on a mission,” Zima said. It seemed like the closest thing she could say to the truth.

  Veter’s ears drooped. When will she return? he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Oh, Veter said. I hoped…But what it was he’d hoped, he didn’t say.

  “What is it?” Zima said. The softness in her voice surprised her. It was like the creaking of trees in a spring breeze.

  I hoped she might help me…to become part of her pack. For a moment the sadness that hung over him blew away, and his face brightened, like the sun peeking through storm clouds. But then he drooped again. I went to them after the human hurt Leto, but when Grom found out I left Zima, he was furious. He sent me away.

  Veter wanted a pack. He had no one. Why had she never thought of this before? She had been so focused on her own problems she’d never even thought about the challenges Veter faced. He had gone through the same pain of losing his parents. Worse, even, because he’d lost his entire family. At least Zima had had her brothers to distract and comfort her.

  “Are they safe?” Zima asked.

  Yes, I think so. But…Veter hesitated, looking down at his paws.

  “But what?”

  I worry that things are going to get worse between the wolves and the humans. I do not know if it is safe for me in the village anymore.

  Zima moved to meet his gaze. She stared at him long and hard, hoping that he could see something in her eyes. For a second she considered telling him everything. That the witch had forced her to trade places in exchange for Leto’s life. That she didn’t know how to change back. That her only guidance came from the infuriating raven, who gave her half advice and usually did so grudgingly.

  “I fear that too,” Zima said at last. He was right. He couldn’t stay in the village anymore. “Zima wants her pack to go somewhere deep in the forest, away from the humans. You should go too.”

  Me alone, deep in the forest? Veter’s ears drooped and his tail curled.

  Zima remembered how her fear of Baba Yaga first gave her the idea to run away to find somewhere safe. Fear was also what had kept Baba Yaga from stopping a murder. But maybe a little fear would help Veter, would motivate him to find safety.

  She puffed out her chest and tried to summon all the danger that Baba Yaga’s voice had held in the cauldron’s memory. “Don’t make me curse you…,” she said. “Leave the village, find somewhere to hide. Do as I say!”

  Veter yipped and began to back away.

  In a softer tone she added, “When Zima returns, she will find you.”

  When he turned to leave, Zima watched him until she could see only the memory of his tail slipping away between the trees.

  But Veter wasn’t the only visitor to Baba Yaga’s hut. The next day there came another. This time, a human.

  If there were moments when Nadya wasn’t thinking about moving to the castle in the wake of Katerina’s departure, she would be hard pressed to say when they were. Her mind was constantly looking for ways to impress, ways to improve, ways to convince Mrs. Orlova that she deserved so grand a home.

  She had cooked and cleaned without complaint, even going so far as to scrub the floors with lye that burned her hands and stung her eyes. The old woman had watched Nadya with narrowed eyes, clearly looking to find fault: Had Nadya used enough lye? Was she scrubbing against the grain of the wood? But after a few moments of watching in silence, Mrs. Orlova moved on to scrutinize the other girls.

  Mrs. Orlova said everyone in the village was expected to offer Katerina and the tsar a wedding gift, including those in the orphanage. But for Nadya it was more than a gift. If Katerina could win over the tsar with her weaving, then maybe Nadya’s gift could win over the tsar too.

  Nadya gripped a length of fabric with tense fingers. For the first time she found herself wishing she’d tried harder to learn the skills Mrs. Orlova had given up on teaching her. There was nothing she could offer that would earn the tsar’s favor. She’d tried baking already, but her cake was flat and grainy. And her attempts at painting were not much better. She was now trying to embroider a pattern of leaves, but they looked more like lumpy twigs —she’d never gotten the hang of the elegant dance between needle and fabric that came so naturally to some girls.

  With a groan Nadya pressed her palms to her eyes. She’d been staring at the tangles and knots for too long. She needed a breath of air.

  Her muscles ached as she gave Mrs. Orlova a bow and the excuse that she was just stepping outside momentarily in hopes of finding some leaves to inspire her embroidery. Mrs. Orlova craned her neck a little, clearly interested in taking a look at the girl’s progress, but Nadya crumpled the fabric in her fists so that the old woman couldn’t see.

  She breathed in the dry scent of the leaves. She had to be careful not to stray too close to the forest—she didn’t want Mrs. Orlova to think she had wandered off again. Instead, taking a seat on an old tree stump, she enjoyed the taste of the wintry air on her tongue and its metallic chill against her ears.

  As she peered toward the trees, a familiar eye blinked at her. Nadya stood, nearly dropping her work into the mud, but she managed to catch it just in time.

  “No, no,” she said out loud. Now was not the time for her wolf to visit, not when Mrs. Orlova was watching her so closely. She waved her arms at him. “Shoo!” she said. “Go away!”

  Her wolf was undeterred. He slunk closer. His movements were different from before, more cautious, almost fearful. He crept toward her, then back, toward her and back, almost as if he wanted her to follow him.

  But that wouldn’t do. She had promised to stay out of the woods.

  She waved her fabric at him, hoping it would convince him to go. Instead, he jumped up and snatched it in his jaws, the force of his grip pulling her to her feet.

  “Stop!” Nadya hissed at him. “Please!”

  But he didn’t understand. The harder she tried to pull it away from him, the more he tugged, until there was a horrible tearing sound.

  A scream slashed through the air. “Get away from that beast!” shouted Mrs. Orlova. She rushed forward and yanked Nadya back by the shoulders.

  The force of Mrs. Orlova’s grip made Nadya lose hold of the fabric, and she fell, leaving the shreds of the ruined wedding gift in her wolf’s mouth. He spat it on the ground and approached Nadya again. There was no anger visible in his eye, but something else. Was it fear? She was sure now that there was something he was trying to tell her.

  But she couldn’t listen. She let Mrs. Orlova pull her toward the orphanage.

  “What in heaven’s name were you doing?” snapped the matron once they were safe inside the kitchen. “That creature could have dragged you into the forest!”

  Nadya shook her head. “He wouldn’t…,” she began, though part of her wondered if that was exactly what he was trying to do.

  Mrs. Orlova ignored her protest. “How Katerina could have ever thought that you could behave well enough to be a guest at the castle,” she spat. “Now with no gift…and look at the state of you!”

  Some of the other girls nearby giggled as Nadya looked down. At some point during the tussle with her wolf she had managed to rip her dress and get dirty smudges across the clean white cloth.

  “Oh, Nadya, that settles it,” Mrs. Orlova said. “There’s little hope of you living in the castle. I’m going to write to Mr. Demidov.”

  The woman swept from the room, leaving Nadya surrounded by the whisper
s of the other girls, whispers that crawled under her skin and lodged in her brain, as whispers loved to do. Without a word Nadya ran up the stairs, angry tears threatening to spill out of her eyes.

  In two steps she had retrieved her warm woolen cloak and red head scarf. Her map and a small knife went into her bag. There was little else she would need in the forest. She would eat the berries and roots that she could find and make her way to the city in the south. It was her only option now.

  An ache tugged at her insides. With Katerina’s invitation, she had been so close to having a home, and someone who wanted her. And now she would be alone again. There would be no way to convince the tsar to let her stay, not when Mrs. Orlova gave news of what had happened.

  If only she had something to give the tsar that would force him to grant her a favor in return as he had offered marriage in exchange for Katerina’s cloak. But it had to be something extraordinary that would leave him no choice but to provide the home she sought. If only she had such a thing. It would mean she could live with Katerina even though she had done everything else wrong.

  Of course, that was impossible. She had nothing. And there was nothing the tsar lacked; he had within easy grasp anything he could ever wish for.

  Wish.

  Wish.

  The word tickled Nadya’s nose. There was one thing the tsar lacked: magic.

  The witch. Baba Yaga. If Nadya could offer him something magical, something that fulfilled his deepest wish, he would be bound by the traditions of the forest to give her her dearest wish in exchange.

  Nadya shivered. Only those who were terribly desperate ever sought out the witch. Was she that desperate?

  She could try her luck in the forest, and make her way through the deadly traps and coming winter ice toward the city, and try to find a new home there. Her map would show her the way. Or she could seek out the witch. Both options were dangerous, both possibly even deadly.

  She had braved the forest many times. She could brave a witch too.

  Her mind made up, Nadya hurried down the stairs past the other girls, their curious glances and muttered words pricking her like thorns. They called out for Mrs. Orlova as Nadya stepped through the kitchen door and into the new sharp wind that swept along the forest’s edge.

  Trees peered over the little hillock beyond the barn and henhouse. Without waiting for fear to overtake her, Nadya crossed the hill to the shadowy space where the trees began.

  It was said that anyone resigned enough to seek Baba Yaga would be guided to her hut by the forest itself, as if by magic. In this, Nadya hoped that the stories were true. She took a deep breath. She couldn’t know if Baba Yaga would help her, but it was worth the risk. Now that she had tasted the possibility of belonging somewhere, she couldn’t let it go.

  Without even a final glance at the village or the faces of those she was leaving behind, Nadya took a step forward and entered the darkness of the forest, thinking only of her desire to find the witch.

  Dread filled Zima’s stomach once more as she listened to the crunching footsteps of the human creeping toward the hut. But when the human stepped into a patch of sunlight, a flash of red caught Zima’s eye and she recognized the little girl—the one she was supposed to kill.

  Not for the first time, she wished she had Grom’s steady presence beside her, to calm and protect her.

  Baba Yaga had told Zima not to speak to any humans. Now was the time to ask the hut to take her somewhere else. She opened her mouth to say the words, but curiosity tugged at her. This was the second time she’d seen this girl, this human, in only a few days, and the first time was right before the witch arrived. It was unlikely, but part of her wondered if talking to the girl would help her find out how to become a wolf again. The muttered voices in Zima’s head seemed to agree, though it was hard to be sure when they kept talking over each other.

  The raven was out. He’d left early that morning to deliver some secret message for Baba Yaga. He wouldn’t know.

  She could pretend to be Baba Yaga just as she had with Veter, say the words the witch had said, gesture the way she had gestured. If the human didn’t know the difference, the witch would never find out that Zima had spoken to anyone.

  The hut lowered itself to the ground with a thump, and the wooden steps creaked down to the forest floor as Zima opened the door.

  Zima swallowed hard. The thought of trying to have a conversation with a human made her insides writhe like dying snakes, but she had to be brave. The witch was feared throughout the whole forest. No one would do anything to her.

  “Were you forced to come here,” she said, imitating the witch’s words, “or did you choose to come?” It made her feel braver, more powerful, to say them.

  The little girl tugged on the red cloth covering her head. “I chose,” she said, her voice shaking, as though she weren’t used to using it. “My name is Nadya, and I need your help.”

  There was so little time. Four nights remained until the full moon. If Baba Yaga couldn’t complete her plans by then, all would be lost.

  The first village teemed with people preparing for the coming winter. The thunk and clang of axes rang through the air as humans chopped firewood, and the odor of boiled cabbage and brewed kvass was thick enough to taste. She circled the village, searching for a hint of the scent she needed. But no human, each with a distinctive smell, matched that of the dagger.

  The next village was only a half day from the first.

  But the village after that was a full day’s run from the second.

  With each night Baba Yaga watched the moon grow fatter. Five nights left. Now four. Soon three. The moon regarded her but could provide no assistance. Neither could the forest. She was alone, and only she could find the family.

  The pads of her paws were split from running. She could hardly bring herself to circle the next village. The villagers, with their friendly chatter and scampering children, tried her patience and overwhelmed her sensitive ears. Being around so many people—more people than she had seen in all three hundred years of her lifetime—was exhausting. The only thing keeping her legs running was the thought of returning to the solitude of her hut.

  After dodging a hunter who had glimpsed her circling his village, she was close to collapsing.

  But then something made her nose twitch. A hint of a scent on the wind. Her breath caught in her throat.

  Somewhere nearby was the smell she was looking for.

  She doubled back in among the trees, letting their branches conceal her. Weaving between ferns and leaping over logs, Baba Yaga made her way toward the road that hugged the perimeter of the forest.

  She was more confident than ever in her ability to navigate the forest. The deadly flowers no longer surprised her, now that she’d begun to recognize their odors. Since her slip-up with the stream, she had evaded all other dangers; she was almost pleased with herself.

  But she’d congratulated herself too soon. So focused was she on the scent that she leapt over a log without looking. Her paws landed on dry leaves. With a crackle they collapsed beneath her weight and she tumbled into a hole, her wolf body slapping against earth and roots and finally striking hard stone. For a moment she lay motionless. Her legs shook and her chest ached.

  Baba Yaga forced herself to breathe in and out, trying to calm the throbbing radiating from her stomach to her limbs. In and out. In and out.

  At last, her breaths slowed and she moved a paw. It shook a little, but nothing seemed to be broken or sprained. She put weight on the paw and rolled over, heaving herself onto her feet.

  Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness as she’d lain there. A cave opened out before her. But frustration stilled her paws. Once more, her own forest had surprised her. She’d failed in navigating it.

  With cautious steps she ventured into the quiet of the cave.

  But all was not silent. Scuffling creatures surrounded her. Her wolf senses could pick up the heartbeats of mice and voles burrowing through the soil nearby. She co
uld feel their tiny eyes watching her nervously. If only she were still a witch, they would have helped her out of this trap….

  But would they?

  Or would they have feared her witch form just as much as her wolf one? She had been callous and uncaring toward the creatures of the forest, apart from her raven. These animals would have no desire to help her escape. It was no wonder the wolf only agreed to trade places with her when she was desperate and had no other choice.

  She looked up. Roots dangled from the ceiling of the cave, glittering with ice. It was beautiful. She had never before glimpsed this view of the forest.

  Baba Yaga stood watching it, enjoying the way the soft breeze in the cave made the ice chime with its own music. But a scent on the breeze made her snap to attention.

  The human. It was nearer.

  She scrambled toward the shaft she’d tumbled down and let out a whining howl. Her sensitive ears picked up footsteps. She moaned and howled again.

  “What is that? Where are you?” called a male voice.

  Baba Yaga moaned again.

  A shadow fell across the hole from the surface. A young man with straw-colored hair, no more than sixteen years old, peered down.

  “Oh!” he said in stunned concern. “Are you hurt?” He clearly didn’t expect an answer, but Baba Yaga whimpered back at him.

  “Hold, hold right there,” he said, waving at her. He disappeared for a moment, then reappeared with a length of rope, which he lowered toward her. “Can you grab that with your teeth?” he asked.

  Baba Yaga hesitated. If she allowed this human to help her, she was bound by the forest to help him in return. She had to treat it as a trade.

  If she didn’t let him help her, she would be trapped here. Finally, she craned her neck and snatched the rope in her jaws. The boy pulled with surprising strength. She tried to assist by pushing herself up the wall, but the stone was slick beneath her paws and she struggled to gain footing. Her teeth strained against the rope and at last she let go, tumbling to the bottom again.