Chapter Tilling dark fears

  Baba Yaga cast off the black shawl about her head after all black robes along with golden jaws to the forest earth just as her ker appeared. “You summoned my mistress.” The Wolf spoke deeply, also weakly under the waning moon as Baba Yaga took her bundle of ordinary clothing from her cat’s mouth. Her little house pet had arrived there only a moment before. “Not you fool…oh, my apologies I forget that my wounds bring you swiftly least you die through the binding.”

  She quickly picked up earth and smeared it over her cut shoulder and also continued to fill her belly with the substance right through to the small of her back.

  “They hunt tonight. They dare to hunt me, curse that wretched spring mead for making old men active and virile!” Baba Yaga dressed in a distracted manner before him thinking carefully.

  “We are to flee tonight then?” He bent down obediently to pick up her other clothing.

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  “Once you would have proposed, begged even to slaughter them all for me.” Baba Yaga sneered and kicked his side. “Leave it! I wish it to be found, save this…tisk you know you are not to touch.” She scooped the golden jaws out of his eager paws.

  “I have another task for you. It requires a cunning tone. Do you think your voice is up to it?”

  “Whatever you command mistress I must do. Though I should think you could do it yourself with the box.” The Wolf grumbled standing.

  “Remember mangy moss that if my neck hangs so too shall yours the very soul you gave up will be used to sustain me until I rise from hell.” She picked up her cat after adjusting her bun and stroked it. “My senses failed me this night despite my magical meals. Does your keen nose pick up the scent of a boy alone and separate from the rest?”

  The Wolf sniffed at the air. “Aye, he lies sleeping above the fireplace in the lodge kitchen.”

  “That lodge, fireplaces, ovens...” Baba Yaga bit off each of her long curvy nails with frustration even though it was a ritual each evening. They would grow back to be the same length tomorrow night, such was the hygiene of one who ate werewolf meat.

  She whispered into each of her confederates’ ears their duties than dismissed them. Waiting until she could see Ivan leading the villager’s torches in the opposite direction she made her way down to the lodge.