Chapter 6

Birds Don't Sing

Dimitri finds herself fighting to stay awake in the backseat of the strange vehicle. It’s nearly midday, but she had hardly awakened in the morning by the time her eyes had been opened to the possibilities of this world. She doesn’t want to fall asleep in the car, not with the unnerving old woman in front of her, claiming to be a god, and the awkward man in the driver’s seat, who seems to be struggling to stay awake himself. However, on the other hand, Dimitri is tempted to lose the fight in hopes that she’ll wake up in her own bed.
She turns her attention to the passing scenery outside to distract herself. By now they’ve left the city and Prince Ivan turns the car down a dirt road. They gradually approach the border of a forest in the distance, the car bumping over potholes and kicking up dust. Even less maintained logging roads occasionally branch off, disappearing behind knots of felled trees, which rise from the dirt like carnivorous teeth, or the roads are swallowed by the edges of the ever-ravenous, growing forest.
Another twenty minutes and their own path is devoured by the forest undergrowth. Dimitri was nearly nodding off again, as the afternoon sun became no longer visible through the thick canopy reaching into the sky. She jolts to attention when their mechanical carriage sputters to a stop.
“Welcome home!” Baba croaks through the thick air.
Dimitri scans the woods outside her window. “I don’t see a ‘home’ anywhere, we’re not camping, are we?”
“Lift your gaze, dear.” Baba leans into the dash and uses her gaze to guide Dimitri’s eyes.
She unbuckles and mimics Baba Yaga’s pose, craning her neck to look up into the tree canopies. “Oh…”
“Let’s get out, I’m exhausted from our travels and the spell has drained our sweet Prince Ivan.”
Dimitri shoulders her pack and all three passengers exit the vehicle. She stands up straight and stretches, but before she can get a good look around, she’s distracted by the faltering image of the car next to her. It flickers like a dying light bulb until the projection is blown away by a passing breeze. She steps forward into the space that was just occupied by the vehicle. She knows that it was at least real enough for her to have ridden in it all the way here, but by now it may as well have never existed beyond her imagination.
Reluctantly, Dimitri turns to face the direction of the ‘home’ that Baba spoke of from the nonexistent car. Her jaw becomes slack at the sight. Rising from the dirt like any of the other trees, four stilts blend into their surroundings. They’re supporting what could have been considered a quaint little cottage –if it weren’t for the crumbling shingles, spiderwebs at every corner, moss and lichen hanging from the edges, and the deep shadow devouring everything underneath.
Dimitri blinks several times, hoping to clear her eyes of the dizzying hallucinations.
“Don’t just stand there, Dimitri, let’s go in,” Baba’s voice penetrates Dimitri’s awestruck silence.
“Right…” Dimitri slowly gets her jaw working again, “Let’s go into the house, through the door that’s several meters off the ground…”
She sighs in defeat when suddenly, the house is no longer stagnant but instead, its legs buckle at joints that each bend in a different direction. With no grace whatsoever, each corner of the house nears the forest floor at a different rate until all of the knees give out at once and it plops into the soil. Dust and broken branches are spit every which way.
Baba chuckles and responds, “Not to worry, dear, the door is level with the earth. Come come.” She doesn’t look back to make sure she’s being followed as the old woman hobbles up the two steps, crosses a short porch, and opens the door.
Prince Ivan, having been waiting patiently, follows suit. He makes a point however, unlike Baba, to turn to Dimitri with a warm smile and wave her in.
Dimitri sighs and pauses to scan the scenery around her one more time, in hopes that the car is miraculously still there and she can just slide into the driver’s seat and return home. The space is still empty, however, and the girl is instead surrounded by the darkness of the thickest forest she has ever been in. The smells of wet soil and pine needles waft over her as another breeze whistles through the trees and tangles the loose hairs around her face. She can estimate where the sun is in the sky, beyond the canopy, based on the occasional ray of light that reaches the floor. Otherwise, the sun itself is forbidden from entry.
Her fate doesn’t seem to be allowing any other options at this point, so Dimitri drags herself across the threshold of the ominous cabin. The floorboards creak in distress as she treads over them and the door groans in annoyance as it closes behind her on its own, as if the act is an inconvenience. Dimitri’s heart skips a beat with the latching of the door, trapping her inside.
Dimitri exhales slowly, taking in the cabin interior, and is pleasantly surprised to see that it is quite normal. Prince Ivan is busying himself unfolding a cushion and preparing a guest bed on the floor in a corner of the living space, not far from the hearth in the center of one wall. On the opposite wall is an actual bed with a mess of quilts on top, that Dimitri assumes is Baba Yaga’s. Baba herself is on the far end of the single room cabin in a kitchenette, rummaging for ingredients.
Baba strains her eyes through her hooded eyelids at Dimitri, still standing awkwardly in the doorway, “Well, make yourself at home, Dimitri. Prince Ivan has put together your bed, you can leave your belongings there.” She nods towards one of two doors that aren’t exits, “That’s the toilet if you need, that other door is the pantry, feel free to eat whatever you can find, but I will have dinner ready soon.”
Without responding, Dimitri watches as Prince Ivan gestures to the now-available bed and then prances over to the food pantry all too excitedly. Dimitri is impressed by his sudden influx of energy after nearly dozing off while driving here. She slips out of her shoes and pads over to the bed, tossing her bag on the floor next to it. She then lets herself fall into the cushions, face down in the pillows.
After several minutes of gestating in her new situation, Dimitri rolls from her stomach to her back and first gazes up to the ceiling, and then allows her eyes to fall to the tapestry hanging on the wall between her futon and the hearth. The piece of work is illuminated by the fire, which crackles steadily despite nobody stoking it.
She props herself up on her elbows to get a better look at the craftsmanship. She studies the image of a haunting forest, much like the one that they are in now, and its life story of growth and decay.
“You best get accustomed to that view, it will soon be your turn to weave your narrative,” Baba Yaga’s voice interrupts Dimitri’s thoughts.
Dimitri averts her gaze from the tapestry and towards Baba, chopping onions at the small kitchen counter. “My turn? Is that why I’m here? To learn how to weave tapestries?”
“Sure, but it’s much more complicated than that.”
Dimitri doesn’t bother asking for an explanation that she knows will either not be given or be too confusing to interpret. Instead, she forces herself up from the futon and wanders over to where Baba pointed out the bathroom. On her way, she passes Prince Ivan, elbows deep in a box of crackers, crumbs trapped in the scruff on his chin like flies in a spiderweb, saved for later.
Opening the bathroom door, Dimitri takes a deep breath, preparing herself for what will most likely be a hole in the floor or a bucket, as running water doesn’t seem like a possibility in an elevated, walking house. However, Dimitri is pleasantly surprised by what she assumes is finally a use of the old witch’s magic that she can get behind –a fully functioning toilet and sink with a full stock of toilet paper, soap, and fresh towels. There’s no shower, but after using the toilet, Dimitri counts her blessings and makes do with a splash of water to the face and a clean, wet rag. She takes her sweet time enjoying the privacy of the closed door separating her from the characters in the next room.
Once she feels sufficiently refreshed –or as much as she can be in a cabin in the woods– Dimitri puts the toilet lid down and takes a seat, pulling her phone out of her pocket to check on Lev and the others. She is promptly disappointed. The screen is blank, aside from the photo wallpaper of herself, Lev, Pari, Laney, and Diane, and the clock numbers, which all change from 4:59 to 5:00 as she watches them. In the upper corner is the root of all evil; an empty stack of cellular bars and the tiny letters spelling ‘NO SERVICE.’ The solace she had found in the bathroom quickly dissipates along with the battery life as it goes from a healthy 72% charge and descends rapidly as she watches it, until the screen goes black. With an exclamation of her frustration, Dimitri slams the brick onto the sink vanity and exits the bathroom without it.
Back in the main room, Baba and the prince have frozen in place, eyes locked onto Dimitri as she slams the door. She scoffs, “What are you two looking at?” and then marches through the house and straight to the front entrance.
She half-expects the front door to be locked, holding her prisoner, but is relieved when the knob turns with ease. The relief evaporates, however, when she steps onto the porch and is met with a feeling of vertigo as the forest floor passes by, twenty feet below the cabin. There’s a lurch with each step of the stilts that Dimitri hadn’t felt while inside. There’s no sign of a forest edge in sight, leaving her wondering how long they’ve been traveling and how far they’ve gone –from the city and from the comfort of her previous reality.
Dimitri accepts the situation and seats herself on a rough, wooden chair next to the door. It appears to be bolted down to the porch and is surprisingly sturdy as she allows her full weight to sink into it. She pulls her feet up onto the seat as well, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees to watch the trees pass by and allow the vertigo to go away.
It feels as though the shadows of the forest are watching her back, but that is currently the least of the dancer’s worries. Images of Lev, possibly dying in a hospital bed, play on the inside of her forehead like a movie. These are followed by images of her other friends experiencing similar fates, and then her family eating dinner together, perfectly content thinking she’s safe with a crazy bat.
Dimitri fades in and out of consciousness, kept tethered by the occasional breeze and cackle of an invisible raven. The walking of the house lulls her like a rocking cradle. Eyes open, the forest expands beyond her sight. Eyes closed, she watches the forest die a dozen times, just like the tapestry inside. Baba’s comment on it being Dimitri’s turn to weave a tapestry repeatedly flutters into her thoughts every few moments, like that persistent raven following them through the forest, following them through time.
Finally, she fully nods off.
A large black bird alights on the porch railing in front of her. Its head cocks to the side, allowing one beady eye to peer into her soul. Its crooked beak, like a witch’s nose, splits open to release another horrid cackle, and then continues to split open until the bird explodes into a plume of iridescent feathers.
With a clear view now, the girl with hair like raven feathers can see that the trees beyond the threshold of the porch are stationary. Upon closer inspection, the trees could each swallow the house whole with room to spare within their trunks. The roots and the canopies are beyond the reach of anything mortal. The forest floor is a mile away. There are no longer stilts holding up the cabin, but real tree trunks. The structure sways and branches rustle as a cold wind blows.
Dimitri wakes up with tears streaming down her cheeks. There’s a chunky knit blanket draped over her shoulders and a bowl of lukewarm stew on the floor next to her seat. The last of the day’s light filters through the tree trunks from the west, but it’s difficult to pick out individual plants. Dimitri is momentarily surprised to see that the dinner bowl hasn’t spilled or been launched off the porch altogether before she realizes that the house isn’t moving at all. If she so wished, she could step down from the porch and dig her toes into the earth, just past the two steps.
She inhales deeply, allowing the clean air to fill her lungs and then leave just as slowly. Not an ounce of smog or pollution in the air, but the purest oxygen that she has ever tasted. Feeling fully detoxed by the one breath, Dimitri is suddenly ravished. She leans over and scoops up the bowl, ignoring the low temperature as she inhales stew instead of air, replenishing nourishments she never knew she was missing.
Dimitri returns the bowl to the floor once it’s empty, feeling perfectly full and content. Too content, she decides. The image of the exploding raven flashes behind her eyelids. Or did that actually happen? She can’t hear any birds like she did before dozing off. She scans the area, not seeing any feathers on the porch or beyond and shakes the image out of her head. There’s a dark spot left in her heart, though. As if the raven is there, one for sorrow, behind the bars of her rib cage.
She wraps the blanket around herself more snugly and curls up in the chair, swiftly drifting off once again.

Baba Yaga
The girl’s family prays, but her mother does so incessantly. It’s been years since someone has been so loud. Not years, decades.
The fire is warm and Prince Ivan has finally returned to his favorite place; sprawled out in front of the hearth. Wings, feet, and beak all pointing in different directions. The girl is still outside and I’ve no need to disturb her. It’s best to let her get accustomed to her new reality at her own pace.
How long has it been since I was in her position? One century? Two? I’ve never felt the need to keep track. I understood my fate, but I fear that Dimitri couldn’t even begin to comprehend hers yet. Her mother continues to pray:
‘Dear Great-Grandmother, treat my child as your own. Deliver her from the curse of our own doing, from the curse of humankind trying to be gods. Your territory is beyond ours and we have tread where we shan’t have.’
Oh I intend to.

*****
Her neck and back ache when she awakens again and she stretches her legs and arms out like the trees around her. It takes a while for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, as nothing is visible beyond the porch railing, which is only faintly illuminated by the candlelit glow coming from the windows behind her. The entire forest is asleep, leaving Dimitri utterly alone.
There’s a cold in her bones that can no longer be warded off by the knit blanket swaddling her, although it feels like it’s coming from within.
Finally, Dimitri pushes herself from the chair, wondering how she ever managed to be comfortable in it to begin with, and then quietly sneaks back into the cabin. She’s tip-toeing across the wooden floorboards, assuming that everyone else is asleep, but is surprised by the voice of Baba welcoming her back in.
“There’s hot water in the kettle on the stove, dear, why don’t you drink some tea and listen to an old woman reminisce for a bit?”
Dimitri considers arguing, opening her mouth to let loose a serpent’s tirade, but chooses to bite her forked tongue. She may be spiteful of the situation, but tea sounds nice and sleep does not.
“Feeling venomous, are we?” The old witch can, apparently, read her like tarot cards. “You know, your mother has acknowledged me her entire life, but I don’t recall her praying directly to me like this ever before. I suppose my reputation doesn’t do me too well. Or maybe it was one of my predecessors’ reputation that did the harm. I can’t differentiate any of them anymore. There are so many stories about me, most of which aren’t true, all of which are very true.”
Dimitri shuffles her feet in place for a moment as Baba pauses and then, continuing her silence, goes to make a cup of tea.
“I see you remember well the possibilities of my wisdom. Not quite ready to leave empty-headed, are you? However, if my memory serves, which it does, you didn’t bother to ask about my story in that tent those years ago. You were more interested in a music box, but now you are the dancer in the music box and it’s finally my turn.”
Dimitri returns with a full mug, walking carefully so as not to spill it, and takes a seat on the edge of her cot. “I don’t suppose your story ends in me waking up from a bad dream, does it?”
Baba adjusts her winged chair to be facing the girl instead of the fire and squints at her, “No.”
Dimitri scowls.
“Great, may I begin?” Baba claps her hands together, resulting in a twitch from the pile of feathers on the floor, which finally catches the girl’s eye.
Dimitri has the mug of hot tea set to her lips when she notices the goose, flat on the floor like a trophy rug. She freezes, “What the- Has that been there this whole time?”
A chuckle escapes the woman’s dry lips as she leans back enough to give Dimitri a better view, “Oh him? That’s Prince Ivan, he’s just engaging in his second favorite pastime behind eating, which is sleeping, and certainly not listening to me.”
“Prince Ivan…” Dimitri’s eyes go wide. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Yes, dear, the man you met earlier is, in fact, my errand goose.” Baba clearly grows impatient, “May I continue, or are you going to interrupt me again?”.
Dimitri glares but allows the woman to speak, realizing that more questions will not entertain real answers
“That’s what I thought. Now, immortality cannot persist without a willingness to change. You know me as Baba Yaga, but I am merely one of several that have existed. I am all of the Baba Yagas and yet also myself. Prince Ivan could tell you about my predecessor, the witch that originally enslaved him. At least I believe he still remembers –several lifetimes as a goose can do a number on the brain.”
There’s a deflated honk that escapes Prince Ivan, as if he’s agreeing, but it soon turns to a steady snore.
“See what I mean? Useless.” Baba continues, “I’ve spent nearly two centuries playing this role as Baba Yaga. Listening to the mutterings of fools, caught up in tradition, just like your mother. The prayers are dwindling, though. They’re weak. I’m weak. Faith and Fear are power for a god like me, and I’m being forgotten.
“Along with others you may be familiar with; Dzbog, Perun, you know the stories… I was once capable of much more. This nation once rose and fell thanks to our power or, more specifically, the power you humans gave us. I am irrelevant and dying and I need you to make me relevant again, remind everyone that we’re still here. That is why you’re here. Following?”
Dimitri blinks and takes a long sip of her tea. “Not at all. In fact, I’m going to go to sleep now, because I must be delirious.”
Baba Yaga grumbles something incomprehensible and then sighs, “Well, I suppose it’s been a long day for you, go ahead and get some rest. You’ll have plenty of waking hours to listen to me while you learn how to work a loom.”
“What the fuck does weaving have to do with any of this?” Dimitri is exasperated.
“Fate, my dear Dimitri, fate. Now get some more sleep.” It’s hard to tell what’s creaking; the chair or Baba as she stands and hobbles to her own bed in the opposite corner.
The lanterns flicker out before Dimitri has a chance to set down her mug or find her pillow, but the softest glow from the fire in the hearth illuminates enough to guide her into bed. Pulling a heavy blanket up onto her from the foot of the mattress, Dimitri glances up to see the light of the flames dance across the back of a prone goose and snorts out a short laugh of incredulity. She then promptly pulls the blanket all the way over her head and curls up in a ball, cradling something in her chest as her thoughts drift to the fate of those back home.

*For once, it really is the world spinning, and not Dimitri herself. She’s on her back in the dirt, the image of the forest canopy overhead, rotating steadily like the stars across the night sky. She’s alone in a world that continues without her. Days pass in minutes, shadows lengthening and shortening. She can’t even pretend to be in the center of it all, as no tree is seen twice. She is simply frozen in time. Seasons pass in days, as snow piles up around her, followed by sprouting flower buds, then falling leaves… The occasional insect alights on her momentarily, a cicada even latching onto her, molting, and leaving behind an empty husk within minutes.*

Dimitri wakes up in a cold sweat with an insatiable itchiness under her skin, as if she’s ready to molt like the cicada. She lays there in unmoving silence for what could be a minute or an hour. The faintest pale glow leaks into the cabin to indicate the day’s arrival, but nobody else seems to notice.
Another minute or hour passes by, but the light never seems to get any warmer or brighter, not with the darkness of the forest swallowing it before it can reach the soil.
Dimitri has opened her eyes and lays on her back, staring at the ceiling, where a fat, black fly has landed above her and crawls around in search of something. It takes off and Dimitri uses that as a sign to slither out of bed as quietly as she can and pad over to the bathroom. She does what she can to feel normal, following something of a morning routine as she brushes her teeth and washes her face. She checks her phone, which still lays on the sink, and still doesn’t work. She leaves the phone once again and exits the privacy of the bathroom.
Back in the main room, Dimitri takes a moment to scan the early morning scene; Baba is still in her own bed, snoring softly, but the only sign of a goose is several loose feathers floating across the hard-wood floor by the fireplace. Feeling awkward in her solitude, Dimitri decides to grab a bag of granola from the open food pantry, slide her shoes on, and go outside. Luckily, the house is still on the ground, and she munches on the food while strolling around the perimeter of the cabin and in the nearby woods. Birds chirp and insects buzz through the air, allowing the space to feel far less ominous than the night before. The presence of life is sobering.
After half of an hour or so later, Dimitri is startled by the sounds of branches snapping and something crashing through the trees towards her. She looks around frantically, trying to find the origin of the noise, until it arrives at her feet with a plume of dust and a long, pathetic honk. Dimitri takes a few steps back, allowing the dust to settle and a not-so-gray goose stumbles into view.
“Sorry miss, I wasn’t trying to spook you.” A familiar voice escapes its beak. “I just wanted to make sure I caught ya early on, before Baba wakes up. Luckily she’s a sound sleeper in her old age…”
“Um… P-prince Ivan?” Dimitri sputters out the question, more surprised at this point than confused, as he had been so reserved the night before.
“Yep, that’s me, miss.”
“Baba mentioned something last night about her previous incarnation enslaving you, is that true? Are you like, the Prince Ivan from the fairy tales, too?”
“The one and only!” His long neck arcs as he drops his head in a sort of bow. “And unfortunately, enslaved is the exact word I would use as well. That’s a story for later, though. For now, I have news from your city that I’m afraid Baba Yaga would keep hidden if she had her way.”
“News from Bratsk?” Dimitri sucks in a breath, nervous or excited, she’s unsure in the moment.
“Bad news, I’m afraid…” He takes a moment and points his beak at the forest floor to avoid eye contact. “Your friend, the ballerino? I hate to say it, but he didn’t last long fighting the flu or curse or whatever you wish to call it…”
Dimitri deflates.
“There’s more,” the goose stamps his webbed feet uncomfortably, “There’s a Laney and several family members in the hospital as well. It’s not looking good.”
“No… It can’t be…” Dimitri sinks to the ground and sits in the cold dirt. Her voice is small, “Why am I fine and they have to suffer?”
Prince Ivan hesitantly approaches the girl, clearly unsure if his presence would be of any help anyway. “That would be the work of the witch. I’m sorry, Miss Dimitri, I didn’t want to have to share the news.”
“No, thank you, I’m not sure how I would have learned otherwise.” She falls back and lays in the dirt, staring up at the swaying trees that luckily aren’t spinning this time. The feeling of loneliness only grows larger, however, as the world goes on without her. She finally speaks up again as Ivan waits patiently, “And the performance? Any news there? Maybe I should just stay out here and never return…”
“Apologies, I didn’t get any information in regards to anything aside from your family and friends. Your family is safe and healthy though, I can assure you of that.”
Tears begin flowing down the sides of her face and into her hair, spread around her like an explosion of raven feathers. “For being a goose, you might be the most human thing out here, Ivan.”
She sees him nod slightly in gratitude from the corner of her eye. “I thank you, Miss Dimitri, for I haven’t been given such grace in decades.” He perks up at the sound of movement inside the nearby cabin. “I will keep the old one busy, take your time out here, if you need.”
With that, there’s a small gust of wind as he extends his wings and takes off, floating the short distance through an open window and disappearing inside. Dimitri stays where she is and allows the flood gates to open, hoping that maybe with luck her tears will water the soil under her until new life replaces her own.