Becoming Baba Yaga

Between two mountains, there lay a sleepy village surrounded by a great forest. The villagers whispered the secrets of the wood to each other as they went about their daily business chopping firewood, stirring pots of soup, and spending cold nights in the tavern. They warned that if you went deep enough into the woods, there were trees thicker than a barrel and taller than the eye could see.

They warned that some trees were alive just as we are. And that among them lived spirits and elves who would drown you, eat you, bury you. Even the will-o'-the-wisps could lead you astray.

Most importantly, they promised that if the spirits were not appeased, the Erlking himself would stalk out from the woods and wreak havoc on them all.

In fear of this, the villagers maintained their oldest tradition. Every few years, a child would be taken to the forest, as deep as the villagers would dare, and abandoned there to be fed to the Erlking. Here is where our story begins.

---

Little Sina Yaga wore her best dress and purple ribbons in her hair. All the children had gathered in the village square to draw stones, while the elders watched from the edge. She stood with the other children, all about as old as her. Each stone had been painted with a number, and whoever drew the lowest would be left to the forest. Sina’s hands trembled as she clutched the stone, the weight of it a reminder of her impending fate. She was a timid young girl, but not without grit.

From a young age, her lumberjack father would bring her with him to the woods. He’d fashioned a small bow for her and taught her to hunt rabbits, squirrels, and when she’d gotten older, mighty stags. Meanwhile, her mother, a talented healer, had shown her how to forage. She’d explained how to spot the difference between good mushrooms and ones which could make you ill for days. She’d demonstrated when berries were ripe for the picking, and how many should be left for the next harvest. Certainly she’d be able to survive in the woods, but there was no telling for how long.

Each child looked at theirs, and when Sina opened her small palm, there lay a smooth grey stone with a “1” painted on it. A man grabbed her arm—Davor, who lived just across the street from her family. Davor, who would greet her with a smile when her mother sent her to borrow sugar. He wore a gruff look now. She looked back at her parents. They were not unkind people—at least, not more unkind than anyone else in the village. But the rules were the rules.

Their faces were solemn when she looked up at them.

While the villagers followed behind them, Davor dragged her through the entrance of the woods. To Sina, it suddenly resembled a gaping mouth, eager to swallow her whole. She struggled and pleaded to no avail the whole way. He only slowed once they reached the deep forest, where the branches coiled like limbs and even crickets did not chirp.

The townsfolk did not dare to venture deeper than this.

Now that she was face-to-face with the forest, her body had paralyzed with fear. The crowd of villagers formed a wall to prevent her from running back. If she did, they would only bring her to this same spot in the forest until she gave in. They urged her to go deeper on her own.

There was no getting out of the woods now. Just an hour ago, she’d been one of them. Now, she’d become a thing to be given— a task to be completed so that they could go on and live their lives without her.

Worse yet, she was armed with nothing but the small bow on her back— utterly useless without any arrows. Perhaps it was for the best, though. She never did like hunting.

That first night in the woods, Sina wandered about for hours. The trees remained identical, the light minimal save for the moon peaking through the canopy. Eventually, she collapsed on a soft bed of moss and cried herself to sleep. Scared, abandoned, and alone for the first time, she succumbed to despair.

She woke just as dawn began to creep in. The dark sky lightened to a pale grey, and a little blue light tickled the edge of her vision. She turned to face it and swore it purposefully tucked itself behind a tree. Chills swept along her spine. She had heard stories of folk who were led astray by the will-o'-the-wisps, and yet for some reason, she was compelled to follow.

After several twists and turns and a quick tumble, the wisp disappeared by a downed tree. Sina could have sworn that she passed by this tree in her senseless wandering the day before if not for the bed of mushrooms on its side. They resembled a ruffled orange skirt with yellow on the edge of the frills—unmistakable against the dark green of the forest. She knew from the damp and rubbery feel of them that they were quite young, too, as though they had sprung up overnight. She recalled her mother calling them ‘chicken of the woods.’

That morning, she made a small fire and cooked up her findings. She made a silent vow to herself that she would not give up so easily. This meal was a gift; the rest, she would earn. She left a piece atop the felled tree—a thank you to the wisps and whatever else watched.

Sina walked through the woods again, this time paying more attention to her surroundings. Autumn’s prelude chilled the morning air, but the leaves had yet to change colour. From birch and oak to fir and alder, all kinds of trees lived in the wilderness. Stretches of the forest floor were carpeted with moss. Moss balls clustered in some areas, and when she looked closely enough, they seemed to blink at her.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something in the shadows was watching.

After walking for a while, she came across a river which widened and narrowed as it pleased. Across the water, a figure peeked out from a bundle of weeds— a strange-looking young girl with bright eyes. Her long hair kissed the flowing water, separating into spiderweb-like tendrils.

The girl grinned at Sina. Sina suppressed a shiver as goosebumps crept along her spine, even more so when the girl stretched out a claw-tipped finger and beckoned her closer.

Realizing it was a Navki, she took reluctant small steps toward the rocky riverbed.

"Alder likes the river but it cannot grow in it," the Navki hissed.

"What's that supposed to mean?” Sina replied. “Why are you telling me this?"

"Before I was me, I was you. Keep to the moss at night.” Before Sina could get another word out, the Navki jumped into the water and gracefully swam away.

Sina's second night passed much like the first. Heeding the Navki's words, she found a moss-filled clearing where she lay down to sleep, but could not get comfortable. Wind rustled the trees and crows cawed as they flew by.

Something shook the ground, getting closer and closer.

A figure, blacker than the night itself.

A giant old man hunched over a cane, taking slow, steady steps. Boom. Boom. Boom. Three for every pace. He was tall enough that she could hardly see his head. Sina had been told stories about Babay long enough to recognize him. She squeezed her eyes shut while he passed, and once his steps faded away, she finally fell asleep.

---

Sina awoke to the sound of arguing.

"We can't just leave her," said one voice.

"Of course we can!" another exclaimed.

"Don't be daft,” a third voice interjected. “She's done better than the others so far."

Sina slowly blinked open her eyes. Sunbeams flitted through the mess of leaves above. Short creatures surrounded her sleeping form. They might have been children if not for their grey hair and wrinkled faces. Their clothes had been fashioned out of moss from head to toe, with patches of rich emerald greens to yellow-toned chartreuse. She looked around at them warily, but they did not seem scary. Not like the other creatures she had come across.

"Hello," Sina said. She sat up, smoothed out her dress, and introduced herself. "My name is Sina."

"Well, she seems polite enough," one of them said. They argued among themselves for a moment again about what to do with her. Finally, some form of consensus was reached, and they scattered about their business. An old woman wearing a mossy scarf reached out a hand and assured Sina that she needn't be afraid.

She passed her a bag made of moss with a loaf of bread inside, which Sina ate ravenously. It seemed to please the woman. "Listen here, child," she said, "that gift of yours was thoughtful. The other children were really rather selfish. So, in return, I'll tell you this: it would suit you well to befriend a nixie."

"A nixie?"

"Go this way down the hill until you meet the river," she pointed. "Then walk up the river until you reach the waterfall. You should find one there."

"But I don't know what it looks like."

"You'll know it when you see it."

Sina bid the folk farewell, and down the hill she went, glad to have a purpose for walking. As the sound of gushing water got louder and louder, so did sweet musical sounds. She paused at the shore.

Cascades of water fell like a 20-foot 3-tiered cake. The air was calm, as if the forest was holding its breath. In front of the waterfall, a masculine creature sat upon a large stone. He appeared fair, but goat-like with shaggy hair and pointed ears. Long, curving nails adorned his fingers which he used to pluck a great harp.

She wanted his attention but did not interrupt, for she found herself swaying to the music. Sina walked closer to the water and found that the riverbed was shallow enough to walk along.

The nixie locked eyes with her. He strummed his instrument faster, the music got louder, and before she knew it, she entered a dreamlike state. He took her fingers and drew them across the strings over and over again until they bled. With each drop that hit the water, a string formed on the surface.

When the music at last ceased, she came to. He inquired what instrument she played.

"I'm afraid this is all I have," she said, offering him her bow. Without a word he pulled the red strings up from the water, and after minutes, crafted her bow into a harp. Though Sina had never played before, it sounded almost as lovely as his.

---

Now armed with a harp and the bread gifted from the moss folk, Sina’s time passed without desperation. During the day, she would explore and map out the forest. She would forage for food, though the bread never seemed to run out, even when many days had passed. When needed, music from her harp seemed to please all sorts of creatures, spirits and animals alike. Sometimes the wisps would help, and other times they just wanted to play. She left gifts for them often. At night, when the shadows closed in, Sina would retreat to the moss. Still, she could not shake the feeling of eyes roving over her skin.

---

In one clearing, she came across a group of Vila dancing in a circle. Their long white dresses flowed with every move, and they seemed to glow in the afternoon sun. Carefully, she approached them, but just as she reached their vicinity, they abruptly turned to glare and bared pointed teeth at her.

"Naughty little children keep interrupting our dance," said one.

“So rude of them to join without invitation,” said another.

Thinking quickly, Sina pulled out her harp. “But I have come to play for you.” She plucked out a joyful tune, and the Vila resumed their dance. She played all through the night, not daring to stop before they did. Beneath the Vila’s feet, a fairy ring of spotted toadstolls sprung up as they danced. Come morning, they finally left to hunt.

At the same time Sina put down her harp, a chicken with ash-grey feathers sprung up from the fairy ring. Like a youngling, it imprinted on the first thing it saw. Now, wherever Sina went, the chicken never strayed far behind. She decided to call it Erdhenne, though she had never seen one without a home.

Later that day, Sina came across a berry bush, beautiful and bountiful like no other. She leaned in to take a closer look. The berries were plump, round, and deep blue. A faint glow seemed to emanate from them. She had already picked a few when she looked deeper between the leaves, and a pair of yellow eyes peered back at her. Inexplicably, they evoked a sinister feeling. Startled, Sina cried out and fell back, dropping the berries. Now that she had been seen, Baba Jagodawa stood and towered over Sina. Brambles and branches grew from her weathered head. She reached out with a twisted hand and Sina scurried away. Baba Jagodawa bellowed a deep echoing laugh.

How tired I am of this strange place with its strange rules! Sina thought to herself. She did not notice Erdhenne eating the fallen berries.

---

Much time had passed, and Erdhenne grew and grew, each day nearly doubling in size. It was now several times the size of Sina, but still followed her just the same. One evening, as the full moon illuminated the sky, Sina was late to return to the moss folk. As the fog thickened and the sky darkened, it suddenly struck her how quiet it had gotten. There were no chirping birds, no locusts nor crickets. Even the leaves had stopped rustling, as if the trees themselves had gone still.

Without warning, a tall dark creature stepped out of the shadows and into her path. Taller than a man, he had great antler-like horns and pointed ears. His face remained hidden behind a giant deer skull. A cloak of vine and shadow hung off his hunched shoulders. The Erlking himself.

Sina knew, somehow, that he had been following her from the beginning. Biding his time. The Alder King saw all the trees did. Though she should have been afraid, instead Sina squared her shoulders.

Face to face with the source of her ruin, righteous determination surged through her. If it was her soul he wanted, she would have his instead.

She bolted to the right, making a beeline to the river. If she could just make it to the water, she thought. Branches whipped against her face as she sprinted through the woods. As she clambered over the crest of a hill, she mistakenly looked back for a second. Her foot caught on a tree root and she fell tumbling down the hill. Twigs and stones cut into her skin. Her hair became a wild mess of burs and tangles.

Aching and bloody, Sina scrambled to her feet continuing forward without wasting time. She didn’t see him behind her, but knew he was following nonetheless.

“Sinaaa…” The Erlking’s ancient raspy voice enveloped her. She ran on. The cuts on her face stung in the harsh wind. Grassy ground became stony earth as she finally reached the riverbank.

“Foolish child,” he gloated, “Alder is strengthened by the water.” A terrible laugh echoed through the woods. But Sina did not stop and jumped straight into the river. Icy cold water chilled her to the bone. She resurfaced, gasping for air. Instead of fighting the current, she gave up control and let the rushing water carry her downstream. That Navki better have been truthful.

As she floated down, she made a silent prayer, and a promise— to the Navki, the Nixie, the wisps, and even the Vila. She spoke to any spirit that would listen; if she could get out of this mess, no other children would need to die. She could finally end it all, here and now.

Water gushed more violently at the riverbend. When she reached it, the current threw her ashore. Looking down, she realized she’d landed atop a giant, chicken-like footprint, illuminated by the bluish glow of the wisps.

Erdhenne was close by.

She formed a new plan. Sina pulled out her miraculously intact harp and began a somber melody. She played for herself, for spirits good and bad, and for all children who had lost their souls to these god-forsaken woods.

The Erkling emerged from a copse of trees across the river and stared her down. Darkness poured out from him. The trees around them grew crooked and twisted forcibly towards her. Sina played faster. Wind and water danced, circling her in a flurry of energy. Trees swayed, leaves blew by, and the ground vibrated. The forest itself came back to life around her.

In the same moment, Erdhenne burst from the woods behind her, leapt across the torrent in one clean swoop, and swallowed the King whole!

With the Erlking gone, Sina stopped playing and the forest relaxed. But there was little time for celebration. While Erdhenne had saved her, it now choked on its meal and its horrid blackness. It keeled over with a sonorous thud.

***

Over Erdhenne’s grave, a great hut erupted from the earth. The hut had chicken legs which stretched high as the trees. The Erdhenne was not without a home after all.

In this new home, Sina Yaga continued living as she had been. She was bound to the forest, it’s true, but she was free. She served the spirits of the forest, and in turn they served her. And, in the years that followed, lost children were always given refuge with old Baba Yaga.