The air was chilled as she stepped out from the heat of the cottage. Annise was asleep, safely tucked under many blankets to see her through the night. Yongsoon watched her fogged breath rise as she looked at the moon, full and bright in the clear night sky. Its brilliance lit her way as she milled about town a while, enjoying the quiet and looking at what new buildings had cropped up. Her visit during the summer solstice had been a brief and busy two days of weddings and storytelling, dancing and feasting. She preferred the village asleep, she thought to herself. It was so peaceful, with most people sleeping and the windows and doors all shut to keep out the cold.

The village was small, and after visiting the horses in the stables, she made her way back towards the forest path. The pressure on her heart had eased tremendously and she felt better, if fatigued. Without Annise’s mortality confronting her so palpably, her head was clearer. She did as she promised, turning her thoughts towards her future and what she would do when she did not have Annise to please.

She was fond of the village and its inhabitants. She’d made a home for herself here, an unlikely benefactor to an unlikely enterprise. She’d been there a long time, both boogeyman and patron, she’d become something of a local legend. Even in the capitol, they told stories of the Red Woman of the Forest, that she stole babies and saved travellers, killed men and healed women, took a hundred lovers and lived in solitude. What little was true about her had been embellished, other stories contrived from thin air, but it helped keep the village safe. While other villages were plagued by bandits and at times taxes, her village had remained relatively unharassed. During harsh winters, there was always just enough to go around, and unwelcome visitors wandered quietly into the forest, never to be heard from again. Whether she had in fact placed an aegis over the village didn’t really matter anymore; people believed.

She smiled to herself, perhaps a bit wryly, at how much her reputation had grown in the last few decades. Kill one wealthy man looking for his wife and punching bag and it was retold as a dozen men, scores of armed retainers come to collect for their master. She had been angry and rash, and it had been very public. She thought it was for the best that she had learned to be more discreet.

It occurred to her that she did consider it her village, not just Annise’s pet project. While she made a point to live apart from it, it was her home. She could never return to the Esterlands where her family lived, though her annual living still dutifully came to her around the lunar new year. She had travelled a little after she’d left home, but had joined Annise almost immediately after meeting her on the road. Nearly half her long life she’d been at the bandit’s side. Perhaps it was indeed time for her to see more of what the world had to offer. Not yet, but soon.

Engrossed in her thoughts, she was taken by surprise when she stepped into the forest, crossing into the margins without even seeing the threshold. Enveloped in blackness, she shivered and felt gooseflesh raise all over her body. The press of magic made her shudder as her skin crawled at the sensation, the air crackling with it.

“Baba Yaga, I wasn’t expecting a visit from you. How may I be of service?” Deference and willingness to serve was always the best way to deal with Baba Yaga the Elder. Her younger sisters were kinder, gentler, but the Elder was a stern and fearsome creature. Yongsoon hoped the Elder would conduct her business swiftly and leave her in peace. She hoped she was not in trouble.

“Lady Mun, is that what they’re calling you now?” The voice was soft like fur, sliding along the back of her neck so that the young witch spasmed involuntarily. A cold hand pressed against her shoulder as the other wrapped around her waist to pull her against the ancient looming behind her.

“That is what they’ve chosen to call me,” Yongsoon answered quietly, hoping to steer the conversation away from the village. This was one threat she could not protect it against. The dark lady chuckled, dangerous and low against her hair. Yongsoon trembled under her icy touch, so cold it burned through the layers of her clothes, like frosted metal against her skin.

“Must feel like you’ve regained some of the nobility that was your birthright.” More laughter at her expense as the crone began to pet along the waves of her black hair. Yongsoon’s skin prickled at the sensation, and force of will kept her from cringing with each stroke. Baba Yaga was teasing her, a sign that things were not well.

“I am only the humblest of witches, grand only to them in their ignorance and mundaneness.” Humility might serve the young witch well, although the longer the great witch caressed her, the more sure Yongsoon became that nothing would save her from whatever Mother Midnight had in store for her.

“Always such a good girl, that’s why I like you. For being so good, I have a present for you; the boy. I suppose a man now, but a boy by our standards. I’m entrusting him to you. I think you’ll like him.” The crone sounded pleased. This was unexpected. And less a boon than a burden.

“I don’t know that I… know what to do with such a gift, Dark Lady.”

“Whatever you want, honestly. Bed him, beat him, keep him as a servant. I ask only that you teach him what he can learn from you.” The Elder was growing impatient with the witchling already. The young ones were so tiresome, so filled with questions and uncertainty.

“I don’t understand, Dark Lady. Why me? I had no dealings with the emperor.” Confusion swept through Yongsoon’s mind and furrowed her brow. Teach him? He was to be her apprentice then. She considered herself too young to take on an apprentice, much less one assigned to her by the oldest of her kind. Shaking her head, the witch craned her neck to look at Mother Midnight, eyes searching. A grotesque mask covered Baba Yaga’s face, nose pointed and long, ice blue eyes peering out from behind it. No one had seen her face in a long time, but her eyes were still bright like stars. Black-blue hair flowed away from the mask, merging with the darkness of the margins she had captured Yongsoon in.

“That’s not for you to know, little witchling. Do as I say and all will be well. I will come to you again at the winter solstice to see how he’s faring. Blessed be.” If Yongsoon had other questions, she had no time to ask them. She gasped as Baba Yaga released her, collapsing to the ground with her eyes rolling back in her head. The blackness receded and left her in the forest as the morning twilight crept into the sky.

Shaken, she clutched her cloak around her and shivered in the predawn chill. Looking around, she confirmed what she already felt, that Mother Midnight had gone and left her sane and intact. She stumbled as she got to her feet, brushing the debris from her clothes and pulling leaves from her hair. More time had passed than their brief meeting accounted for and her body complained for food and sleep. Much more than a little fatigued now, she made her way along the path back to her house, magic hastening her journey.