Into the Deep Wood

The first time she saw Amir again was that night.

When the men returned from the fields, they were all soaked in sweat. The weather continued warming, and all had been visibly worn out.

Val felt nervous, unable to look at any of them, for very different reasons. She sat down between Marat and the farmhand at the table for dinner. When she gathered the courage to momentarily look at Amir, he had not met her eyes. His head was bowed, and he was very concentrated on his stew. Perhaps it was better that way.

Once all cleaning had been done, everyone had gone outside by the large fire. They rolled large fallen logs over so everyone could sit. Hot herbal tea had been passed around with some very dry honey biscuits.

Conversation flowed between them, except for herself and Amir. They had remained silent, mostly looking down at the hot water's steam or the fire logs. As it died down to only the loudest of the bunch telling stories, she saw Marat silently get up and leave. How the man snuck out in such a small group without so much as an eye-catching him, she did not know.

Val waited a moment before excusing herself and walking toward the main house, turning only at the last minute to hurry to the barn. She slowed her step when she neared - but needlessly because she could already see Marat walking away and down the path.

She followed him, careful to be as quiet as she could. It was curious he did not hear her, considering he could smell the change in the air before.

Becoming more daring, she sped up - just in time, as he disappeared among the trees and brush. She listened carefully for the sound of his wooden leg crunching the dry branches and grass beneath it.

They stopped right as he was in her view. Her heart pounding she ducked down, praying that he did not see her. That he did not stop because he heard someone follow. But they resumed just as quickly.

Val did not dare move as her foot had landed in a patch of very dry leaves and branches, and were she to stand, it would be loud and disruptive.

The scream of a hawk owl broke the silence, startling her. She tried to steady her breathing and her heart. If she lost his trail, this would again be for nothing.

The nights here were white, with the moon incredibly bright well into the morning hours. It cast distinct shadows between the trees. Not too far off, she heard the splash of something into the water. She was near the overgrown lake.

Val crept forward, losing hope that she would find Marat again. She stayed too long in one place, afraid to move and to be discovered. Val could hear the soft sounds of the water ahead as it disturbed the plants and the dock posts, so she picked up her pace.

Quickly darting her eyes around the trees, she began to get nervous and doubt herself.

If he discovered her, who knew what sort of encounter they would have this time? She’d somehow forgotten the last time as if she did not want to think of him that way. Angry, grabbing her by the collar.

She found herself right at the dock. It was overgrown and unused for a long time. Or maybe the winter and spring had left it forgotten.

Fairy moss and duckweed claimed the mostly standing waters. A couple of cattails swayed, whether in the breeze or from the movement of the lake under its green blanket of aquatic plants.

Hushed voices sounded. She froze, trying to figure out if it was just the rustling of the leaves carried on the wind.

Suddenly, she heard a woman’s laugh - ringing through the air like bells, fragile and delicate. Her heart nearly stopped, afraid to breathe; Val followed where the sound had come from. It wasn’t far before she saw the clearing between the brush and a log that had fallen partially into the water. She spotted them.

Marat was there. In the grass, half nude. Holding his head across her lap was a woman. The white night had illuminated her, and she’d been bare as well. She was so pale and elegant that she looked like a wisp of wind could stir the trees and blow her away. Her hair, so long, had been clumped together as if wet. It fell across her back, shoulders, and chest - resting in the grass when she bent down to whisper in his ear. She ran her long, thin fingers through his dark hair, getting them gently tangled. She cooed something affectionately to him in a soft voice that Val could not hear.

He reached up, taking her chin in his hand and held it for a moment. He said something to her, and she playfully pushed it away, giggling again. But he was persistent - he grabbed it again and brought her head down for a kiss.

Val held her mouth shut with her hands. Disbelief, although she guessed his nightly walks could have been a woman. But to see it with her own eyes... She’d felt embarrassed for having followed him. For thinking that it was any of her business. She felt sick but was afraid to move, more afraid of being heard than ever.

Marat had pushed himself off the ground with one arm, hovering over the woman, still connected in a kiss. He used the other to reach behind her back and lower her to the ground, remaining on top.

Val had to leave; there was no question anymore. This was not hers to witness.

So adamantly did she not want to see this that she’d shut her eyes. But when she heard nothing, she peeked, her eyes growing wide.

The woman was sitting on top of him, her hair floating about her frame and shining in the moonlight. He reached for her, saying something, and she bent down to him, her body grazing his.

To Val’s horror, as the woman flipped her hair out of her face, she’d revealed thin slits in her neck, running parallel to her jaw. And as her face hovered near his skin, her mouth opened slowly into a maw full of long, sparse teeth. Val had seen them illustrated in a book, but such teeth belonged on an angler fish.

The woman sank them slowly into his chest. At first, his face remained unchanged, as if he were unaware. But then he gripped her shoulder pulling her in even closer.

Val ran.

Ran without any concern for being heard. Tree branches whipped her cheeks, they crunched underneath her rapid steps, and pebbles flew as she pushed off the ground. She did not know what she saw, but she knew that she was not meant to see it.

She slowed as she neared the houses, trying to catch her breath.

Where was she to go? It was late, and everyone had gone to bed. She would disturb and wake them if she returned to the main house. She couldn’t go to the barn; he would return there soon, surely - there was absolutely not a chance that he did not hear her run.

She looked at the leather shop. She couldn’t.

She had no choice, and she could not go to Amir. She would have to go to the barn. She would bar the door. She would not let him in.

Val got inside, immediately looking for something to wedge the door shut. He had been so cruel to her the last time that there was no telling what tonight would bring.

She pushed pieces of wood at an angle under, securing it, and went back to the cot, grabbing the candle. She sat, her knees pulled to her chest, and the image of the two burned into her mind. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. She hated the way that it had made her feel. How disgusted that thing made her feel.

It was not long until a quiet, measured knock on the door came. Val could feel the blood rush in her ears. She would not answer. She would not.

“Valeria.” She heard him, his voice quiet - but not restrained from anger like she had thought it would be. It was… tired. “Open the door, please.”

“No…” she whispered, knowing he would not hear her.

“Valeria, open the door.”

“No.” She said louder. The knocks stopped. She heard a thud against the door and then it grew quiet.

“You don’t know what you saw,” he said finally.

“I do not want to know.” She answered.

“Let me in, it’s cold, people will hear.” He tried again.

And he was right. People would hear. And she did not know who would hear, some ears could prove more dangerous than others.

She pulled the stoppers out and stepped back. He opened the door slowly, not looking at her, and shut it carefully, holding it down to prevent the rusted hinges from creaking. When he turned to her, he was pale, and she had never seen that look on his face before.

To her surprise, he fell to his knees, clinging to her waist. She stood, unable to think clearly.

What was happening?

She felt him shake, and to her horror, she realized he was weeping.

They’d stayed like that until she placed her hands on his shoulders and carefully guided him away. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked away from her.

“Marat, I need to know what happened.” She said. He was not angry at her, not screaming. He was… crying. And she did not understand this. She did not understand a thing that night, but her gut told her that whatever happened had been bad. Whatever it was, it was connected to his nights away, long walks, anger, and gaunt face. And she had to know.

She had to.

“Yes.” He said, short, as always. He stood, and she walked to the cot to sit down. He would not sit beside her but lowered himself to the floor, his back against the bed. His eyes were downcast.

“Who…” she started, seeing that he could not, “What is she?”

Val had learned the questions that she had to ask. And in her heart, she knew that the light, the night, and the shadows did not play tricks on her—not tonight. She saw what she saw.

“A poison.” He answered.

“I can’t sit here dragging it out of you, Marat.” She said, sighing. Where before, she did not want to pry. She felt she’d stumbled upon something so foul and wrong that she was no longer afraid to know –she was afraid for him.

“She is… it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what or where. I shouldn’t have gone. I should have never gone.” He dropped his face into his hands, rubbing his temples. “But, I cannot stop going back.”

“What do you mean?”

“I cannot, girl. I cannot stop. I’ve tried, I told her no. She whispers in my ear at night, whether in my cot or elsewhere. She whispers, begs, and makes promises. I’ll light a fire and wrap myself in wool blankets. I’ll try to sleep and I cannot. Her scent is intoxicating. It follows me around the fields and the homes. It’s carried by the winds.”

Val did not know what to say, and she was no closer to understanding, but this mattered.

He spoke rapidly, feverishly.

“She beckons me in every puddle, a mug of water, in the melted snow dripping off the roof.” He leaned his head back. “And when I arrive to her, her touch…” he trailed off; she could hear him grind his jaw. “I am not myself. I cannot keep a thing from her. It’s like she reaches into the depths of my mortal soul and grabs hold. And she cherishes it the way that no one has. She promises to keep it safe, and then she does.”

She looked at him, beginning to understand. She understood that this was too big for him and her to handle. And this was far more dangerous than she could have thought. Marat was in great trouble.

“What is she, Marat.” She repeated, and it did not come as a question any longer.

“A water spirit,” he answered. “Rusalka. A plague in the deep. The Third Sister. She feeds on the souls of men, unlucky to have given her their name.”

“How did you… I mean, why didn’t you…” surprised, she did not understand why it had come to this. Was he not a hunter? How could he give his name?

“I don’t know, girl.”

“You don’t know??” She leaned forward, forcing him to look her in the eye. “How could you not know? You obviously know, so what was it?”

“You don’t understand.” He shut it down, becoming agitated, “You will never understand.”

“I understand that you are not okay.”

He pushed himself off the bed and stood over her. His face was hard again.

“You do not know me, girl. You may think that having spent the last year together, you can know a man.” His voice grew louder before it fell again but did not lose its sting, “Where would you have learned? In that hut with the Hag? What experience do you have? What other men have you known besides the boy still suckling at someone else’s mother's teet? And even he, you did not understand enough to know that he would not have you.”

She felt the rage swell up inside her. He listened to her cry for hours, he saw her pain.

It dawned on her that his words were intentional; he meant to hurt her.

Because she was too close to hurting him.

Val let his words hang in the air but did not break eye contact.

“Marat.” She saw something leave his eyes when his words did not turn the tides, and he lowered himself down again - this time next to her on the cot.

“I cannot,” he said again. “I knew what she was, girl. And I craved it. I yearned for it. Before her hands had ever touched my flesh, I knew the price. And I welcomed her. Even here, she speaks my name and I hear it in the winds outside. She’s calling me back.”

“You do not mean to go back, do you?” her words were cautious.

“I do not want to return, but I cannot stop myself. She has my name, as the Hag once had yours.” He said, looking at her. “Valeria?”

“Yes?”

“I’d asked this of you before. I need you, or I may not survive. Her claws are dug deep, and I do not have it in me to remove them.”

“What do I do?”

He stood and walked over to where the curtain hid the farm equipment.

“She whispers loudest in the night when nothing else drowns out her song. I cannot stop myself, but you…” He held the trace chains the farmer had strapped on the horses when felling trees.

Val stood, touching the heavy links. She doubted that she could lift them by herself.

“You want me to chain you here?” She asked.

“I want you to do what I am too weak to.”

“How long?”

“However long it takes.”