Into the Deep Wood

They laid in the clearing a long time, so long that, at some point, all had fallen asleep after bringing themselves to the brink of death with exhaustion. The sun's rays had forced them to wake - bright after the Deep Wood.

Val’s recollection of what had happened the night before came rushing back. With it flooded memories that she had long forgotten. The forest. She recognized the forest.

She jumped up, spinning around frantically. Looking for the wheat field, the smoke columns of the village, and the barns on its outskirts. But she saw none of those things. Instead, as far as she could see, all around her was short, dry grass. It swayed softly in the breeze but looked lifeless and straw-like. Val collapsed on her knees in disappointment.

“We need true rest,” Marat said, holding his head, which pounded with the strain of the past few weeks. “It’s time to set up proper camp. The Hag be damned, if she were to crawl on her abominable knees out of those woods, I could not care less. I need meat. And sleep.”

Erlan nodded in agreement, his head hung low.

“I’m not willing to find out if she can, and we should at least get away from the trees… but I also cannot go on.” He stood, looking around. Grasses and very few lonely shrubs in the distance. He had never been happier to see the Insipid Flatlands.

The brothers strained to pick up their gear and slowly walked forward, Val behind them again, but not by much. As soon as the forest had been left behind, they set up camp by a patch of mugwort. Marat declared it was good luck.

Both brothers left to hunt. They were sure there would be plenty of rabbits. Val had been left alone with all the gear and supplies. Although the brothers did not acknowledge that she got them out of the woods or much of her existence, she felt at peace. Overwhelmed with freedom, the open plains, the air that flowed of its own accord, and the lack of mugginess, she felt like her lungs could finally fill, and her heart settle down.

When the brothers returned, she was seated by a small fire she had built. They dropped their game, which included a rabbit and a turtle. They quickly added dried grasses and brush to the firepit, making it roar to life. This felt like a celebration.

“So,” Marat said, eagerly tearing meat from the bone of the roasted bunny. “Val. What does Val stand for, I wonder.”

She sat silently, looking only at her meal as she bit down.

Marat did not seem to mind, perhaps because he did not truly care and was just making conversation since the mood around the camp was much more lively than before.

“Val,” Erlan observed, “It is a Northern name, I bet.” He thoughtfully chewed, “Valina? Valentina? Valeria? Valena?”

She’d reacted barely to one of those - a slight change in her face that he had caught in passing.

“So, Valeria, then.” He smiled, proud of himself and seemly unaware that she got uncomfortable at his pointing it out.

“If from the North, then from the city or the countryside?” Marat asked, catching onto Erlan’s game, which coincidentally did not involve Val at all, it seemed.

“I’ll guess she is from…” Marat continued, a gleeful look on his face, ready to read her body language in competition with his brother. “The country. She does not look like she can read.”

“I can read!” She blurted out, catching herself only when the words had left her mouth.

“She speaks.” Marat laughed, “Don’t take offense, girl. How are we to know if you’d given us three words to go by? For all we know, you were a simpleton or mute.”

She dropped her eyes again, embarrassed and uncomfortable. The brothers did not seem to mind.

“Let’s narrow it down then.” Erlan said, “She is not dumb, can read - and is young. In the forest all alone. Tell us, Owlet, did you run from home?”

She shook her head no, never looking up. She did not like this game.

“Did not run from home but ended up alone in the woods. Did not deny the countryside, yet she can read.” He paused, thinking, “She recognized the birch trees.”

“Take a look at her, brother.” Marat lorded over Erlan, “She is fair-skinned, and her hair is colored like a farm mouse. She has the green eyes of the Chelka River women. Do you not recognize it? Or has her thinness tricked you?”

“I am not a game!” She called out, tears beginning to swell.

The men grew silent, considering her more seriously now.

“And so, she is willing to talk after all,” Marat noted, only a slight smile lingering as if he’d gotten what he was after. “Girl, you best talk now because we do not know you. We do not know who comes after you, and it would be less troublesome for us to leave you here where you sit. So you’d better speak and speak truthfully because we will know.”

She felt the hot tears roll down her face, but his demanding tone scared her.

“I remember little…” she started, “I remember houses painted white. There were farms… and birch groves.”

The men sat silently, uninterrupting. So she continued, memories flooding back as she spoke.

“No one comes for me. My father’s dead, and I have no brothers. My mother cares… cared… I’m not sure, but she took care of my grandmother.” It dawned on her that she did not know how long she had been trapped in the Hag’s domain. Was her mother and grandmother still alive, even? She sobbed. “I ran into the woods… at night…”

Erlan stopped her.

“That’s enough.” He saw that the girl spoke faster with every word, growing more distressed. The horrors this girl faced with the crone had done their damage, and she needed rest. “We are satisfied.”

Marat watched his brother with an unreadable expression. He did not speak, but he had noted that his brother seemed to have a fondness for the girl. This was dangerous territory he trekked. One that Marat would have to observe carefully.