TikTok and Chicken Legs

"Hey there, Fam, it's your Maiden, Princess V. L., time for another tour of my little witchy hut."

The Woman in the video panned her cell phone camera around her tiny cabin. The walls were painted a dark moody blue-gray the color of storm clouds, black bookshelves filled with handcrafted leather volumes lined the walls, and twinkling skull fairy lights hung from silver cup hooks.

"I just got this cute little guy," the Woman said. Her hand reached out for a hand-painted figurine of a chicken reading a book that was resting on a copy of Tolstoy's Anna Karenina.

I let out an involuntary yowl of desire for the chicken. My own bookshelves were warped by the heavy tomes and any figurine I put on them would be knocked down by the cat.

"Just because you're a creepy forest witch, doesn't mean you don't like cute things," the Woman said. "I got him on my tour in America."

I snarled at the video. Of course she can afford to go to America and buy figurines. She married royalty.

The video panned back to the Woman. She was young and thin, fair-skinned with large blue eyes, and bottle-black hair. She looked like a prettier version of me when I was young and fashionable. But, she wore too much kohl around her eyes and her lips were too dark.

"Remember, your cabin is where you will do all your work so it must be a reflection of who you are," the Woman said. "If you like more tips on how to be a forest witch in the modern world, please like and subscribe."

I should stop watching these videos but another one loaded automatically. It was a different woman, a Maiden, with the same aesthetic talking about how to bake bread out of acorn flour.

"And the best thing is that it's gluten free!" the Maiden said.

Whatever that means.

This one's kitchen was massive with hanging plants in the windows and drying flowers over the hearth. She had her hair wrapped back in a long blue scarf which gave me the willies as I remembered a different Maiden and a treacherous river.

My own kitchen had plants in the windows, of course, that's the best place for them, but they didn't trail down into the sink, at least one of them was dead, and the basil was leggy again. When was the last time I made bread? Not since I discovered it was easier to DoorDash to the Maiden who lived in the nearby village who was still in thrall.

Not everyone gets away.

The next video that loaded was about spell casting and on how to make the skulls of one's enemies glow like a lantern.

"I don't use human skulls," the Maiden said. "Though if you can find me an ethical source of human skulls, drop me a line in the comments. This is a skull from a cat I found killed on the road."

Cat skulls! They looked interesting but could they cast a good light?

My own cat jumped up and dropped a dead mouse into my lap. She sat back on her haunches and started to pull at her bloody claws. I set down my cellphone and picked up the mouse. I turned it over in my hand to inspect it.

"Good," I said. "This one had good, strong teeth."

I probed my own teeth with my tongue. They were still as strong as ever but it never hurt to have a little extra.

"You can have the rest," I told the cat.

I twisted the mouse's head off and tossed the body to the cat. She took it to her corner where I'd find the rest of the bones later. I put the mouse head in the beetle bucket and let them strip the fur and meat and soft organs. They scrambled over the head and I listened to the soft clicking of their mandibles as they got to work.

The grip of the cellphone had loosened but not broken. It called to me like a will o'the wisp.

My cabin was too small for me. It was cramped and too full. I shared it with too many animals. The cat had slunk away but the dog was asleep on my bed and one of the chickens was brooding over an egg in the wood pile.

Catching my own reflection in the scrying mirror, I saw that I looked just like the Maidens in the videos, only far older. My hair is more gray than black now. It's tangled with leaves and cobwebs rather than braided with bits of ribbon and feathers. My dresses are long and sack-like, functional rather than decorative, and black to hide the stains. They do not have the pretty silver and gold embroidered protection symbols at the hems and bodices that some of the Maidens wear. I flung the scrying mirror off the wall and let out a howl. All of the creatures in the hut and outside trembled with fear and slunk away to their hiding holes.

I'm ridiculous. A caricature of myself.

I tied a shawl around my hair and put on a large hat to protect my eyes from the sun. I pulled on my mud-covered work boots and picked up a collecting basket. Then, I stomped outside into the woods. My house skittered away from me and the skull lanterns flickered in fear. I paid them no heed. I needed to get out and breathe in the damp, musty, death-smells of the forest to clear my head.

The forest never fails me. Even now, in the dead of winter, it is teeming with life and death. There is still snow in some of the darker recesses but the snowdrops are coming up in the fields. It'll be spring soon. The lambs will be quickening in the bellies of the ewes.

A massive raven alighted on a tree branch and sent snow cascading down on me. I shook the snow from my shoulders and pinned the bird with my milky eye.

"You're lucky you're protected," I snarled at the bird.

It laughed at me, knowing I didn't dare cross one of Odin's favorites without reason, and took off again dropping a shit on the path in front of me.

The disrespect.

Perhaps the others didn't respect me now that my image is no longer venerated with fear but emblazoned on stickers and t-shirts.

I trudged deeper into the forest. The ground was hard under my feet but no longer completely frozen. Mud caked the bottom of my boots. My time was coming to an end. I could feel it in the air and see it in the flash of red of an early-returning robin. It was nearly time for the Maiden to return and be tested. If she passed her trials, the heat of summer would drive me underground.

I gathered some conifer needles. They were good and green even in the depths of winter. The mouse teeth and a nice strong conifer needle tea should keep my own teeth from rattling around in my head. There were some good mushrooms nearby so that was dinner sorted.

The cold seeped into my bones like a cool hand on a fever. This was my time for a little while longer. Winter is for those who have weathered the worst of life's trials surviving with only cunning and persistence. The Maiden liked the heat and fecundity of summer when things are easy. She was soft, a pale green bud newly emerged from the darkness, and ill-suited to the cold and harsh realities of life. Yet, more often than not, she bested me.

But, sometimes, she failed. The thought made me grin.

There was a rabbit in one of my traps. It was scrawny but there was enough meat to make a nice stew tonight. I gathered the carcass and reset the trap.

The Maiden in the village was the last one to fail. She was no longer young by the standards of their fleeting little lives but she was still in service to me. Perhaps it was time for another Maiden to replace her. Perhaps this year the Maiden would fail. Perhaps it will be another Year Without A Summer.

I spotted a juniper tree covered in dark blue berries. A rare treat! These will pair well with the mushrooms and rabbit. The birds nesting in the tree squawked at me but I left plenty for their kind, the greedy things. Ah, yes, this will make a fine dinner.

My basket was full of the bounty from the forest and I made my way back to my hut. When I approached her I paused and looked at the magnificent beast. Her powerful chicken legs protect me from unwanted visitors. The skulls of my enemies glow warm and rich to light my way in the darkness. The child cage is large enough to fatten even this generation's larger specimens.

The Maidens and women on the internet wish to be me and they have taken the superficial parts of my life but not the substance. They use their cauldrons for lighting incense, not boiling the flesh off bones. But, can they survive the winter with their soft bodies and warm hearts?

I let out a cackle that echoed throughout the forest.

"I am Baba Yaga," I shrieked.

And the world trembled once again.