Yongsoon wasn’t sure what she had expected of Baba Yaga but this was not it. Asleep on the stone steps leading up to her front door was a young man with all his worldly possessions stacked around him like wards against the night. He looked uncomfortable but slept soundly. The early morning light caught in his hair and made him look quite fair, with pale skin and blond hair. Yongsoon simply gaped at him as she approached cautiously.

Her bewildered expression gave way to one of curiosity as she got a better look at him. He wasn’t quite what she had envisioned, although frankly, like her own reputation, stories of him had likely been greatly exaggerated. He’d have to be nine feet tall to live up to his legend. She peered at him, leaning in to see the famous child’s face.

Fair indeed, she thought, and definitely grown. He looked to be about two-and-twenty. He kept his hair long, which she thought was good of him, as it kept with the old ways. He was also growing a beard, which she approved of less; but it was his face, he could do what he liked with it. She pouted at him with mild envy of his high cheekbones and long lashes. Westies had so many of her favourite traits. She didn’t dislike her own appearance, but she’d always admired the bone structure of Westerlings.

“Wake up.” She said softly, hoping he would not startle and accidently lash out at her. When he didn’t, she shook his shoulder and was rewarded with a grunt and a grimace.

“I’m up, I’m up, be gentle, you hag.” She’d been called worse but that was a first for her, and she was too stunned to retort. Bleary eyed, he looked up at the short woman standing before him and inhaled sharply as his eyes went wide. Standing abruptly, almost knocking her down the stairs, he flushed and ran his hands over his wrinkled clothes and through his hair. “OH! I thought you were Her! I’m sorry, that was not at all appropriate.”

“Good, get up. Let’s get your things inside.” She picked up the smallest item from the pile around him and made her way up the stairs, leaving him to gawk at her.

“You’re not a hag, either, by the way,” he called after her as he quickly gathered some of his things in his arms. Starting after his new tutor, he took the stairs two at a time and made good use of his long legs to hurry after her. “You’re my new mistress?” he said incredulously as he caught up with her. She crinkled her nose at his word choice but let it go.

“It would seem so.” It was a short walk around the house along the wooden walkway. She was especially glad she’d cleaned the day before, her home looking much more impressive in the growing light. She assumed that first impressions worked both ways and she was glad she could at least pretend to be put together. As she passed, screen doors unlocked themselves and slid open, which distracted her new pupil momentarily before he’d pick up the pace to keep up with her. She was fast for someone with such short legs.

“But you’re so young!” They turned a corner as she began to walk more briskly, her back to him still so he missed her eye-rolling. With a wave of her hand, the screens of a small room flew open violently and vibrated in their frames.

“Old enough, apparently,” she said with an edge of annoyance. The room was rather full, organized but stacked to the ceiling in some places. The job ahead of them would probably take all day. Sighing, she resigned herself to the thought that she’d likely have to go without rest for now.

“Get your things and bring them over here.” Untying her cloak, she turned and continued down the walkway to her own room.

“Don’t you even want to know my name?” She gave him a skeptical look when she reached her bedroom door.

“You honestly think I don’t know who you are, Imri? There isn’t a witch alive that doesn’t know the who you are. Darling, you’re famous.” With a shake of her head and a smile, she slipped into her room to find a large white mound of fur heaped across her bed. Throwing her cloak on him, she noticed that Yori didn’t even twitch an ear at her and she frowned. Enchanted sleep, probably to save the boy from being mauled upon his arrival. It was likely enough that Imri too had been in one when he was spirited here by his self-styled warden.

She changed quickly into simple work clothes, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. If she lost momentum, there was a fair chance she would lose her will to stay awake and simply lay down for another nap, and it might be a long one. She gave her familiar a hug, snuggling her face into his fur as he woke and rumbled a hello. He sniffed her between long licks of his rough tongue, great paws coming around to pull her against him. After scent marking her vigorously, and taking a few more sniffs, he looked at her expectantly.

“We have a guest. He’ll likely be staying awhile.” Yori slid off the bed fluidly, stretching as he went and together they padded down towards their visitor. They found him carrying a fresh pile of books around the corner of the walkway towards them.

“Where do you wa-ah!” A book flew in a high arch over the railing and dropped into the pond behind Imri as he fumbled with the others he’d been carrying. Yori was over the railing too, paddling dutifully towards the sinking book.

“Great, now it’s going to smell like wet fur all day. What were you asking?” Clearly unimpressed, she walked into the room, opening a trunk to inspect its contents. Grabbing the handles, she lifted it with effort. Waddling a little, she looked at him insistently. “Well?”

“Where do you want me to start moving things?” He asked hesitantly. “Your familiar is a tiger?”

“Obviously.”

“Any other large carnivores roaming about?”

“There are man-eating boar in the forest.”

“Really?”

“No.” She huffed after she got the chest a short ways away and stood up to stretch her back. Looking back at him as he just stood there she pointed to a spot along the railing. “As for moving things, put my books over there, I guess, and anything that looks valuable over here. The rest, I don’t know. Pile it over there for now. I’ll find a place for all this stuff somewhere.” At his lack of movement she raised her eyebrows at him. “You may begin?”

“Right-o. I mean, yes, Lady Mun.” He took a determined stride into the room and opened the nearest storage trunk to see what it held.

“Oh, don’t. Please don’t call me that. You make me feel old enough with your general aura of freshness. Yongsoon is fine.”

“Can I give you a shorter nickname?”

From behind a stack of clothing boxes came a curt, “No.” After some shuffling around, she peered around the pile down at him. “Why would you even need to? It’s a two syllable name.”

“It’s foreign and my mouth finds it cumbersome.”

“That’s racist,” she said matter-of-factly, opening and closing boxes rapidly, sorting them into piles.

“Didn’t have much warning, did you?” He methodically took the drawers out of a dresser that took up much of the wall. She liked that he was careful with her things, but not so much that he was slow.

“I would say I had exactly none. If I had known you were coming, I would have done this yesterday when I’d organized this room.” She sighed heavily, genuinely aggrieved by the now wasted effort.

“Seems a bit small.”

“No, you’re just a giant.” She knew she was short, but he was literally head and shoulders taller than her and she wasn’t even sure there was bedding appropriate for him. He huffed at her accusations but gave no comment.

They worked in silence for a while, the witch focused and efficient, her apprentice less so, too interested in the artifacts and curiosities of her private collection that she’d squirreled away in the room. It was late in the morning when she could ignore her hunger pains no longer.

“Are you hungry?” She asked, running her hands through her hair, out of her face. There were piles and piles of things out on the walkway and half the room was empty. Yori lay in the sun some ways off grooming himself, the sodden book open beside him. Rubbing her eyes, she yawned, feeling sleep tug at her weary body. Too much had happened in too short a time and she worried that she would pay for it later when she had a moment to process it all.

“I could eat.” Imri stopped awkwardly trying to pull the large curio out of a corner without disturbing its contents. She grimaced, thinking of the scuff marks he was making. It would be simple enough to correct with magic but there would be a cost if she had to do it all the way to its intended location.

He followed her back towards the front of the house and through the door. It was an odd house since most of its walls could be opened, but it still had a formal entrance that led almost immediately into the kitchen. Poring over the villager’s gifts on the table, she picked a few apples from a bushel and one of the honeycakes from its paper wrapping.

“Can I help?” He asked, and she shrugged before pointing to the fire pit in the center of the room.

“Can you light a fire and pull water from the big pot in the stillroom? Flint and tinder are over there, stillroom through there,” she said over her shoulder as she gestured towards a shelf on the wall and the door to her right. Assuming that he could handle it, she set about cutting the apples into slices and dividing the cake between them. After some consideration, she added some thick slices of the smoked meat to their plates. She didn’t know what kind of food Imri was used to but she hoped he was prepared for her lack of culinary skill.

“How can you have so little food in there? You do realize that winter is coming.” Reappearing out of the stillroom with her pot full of water, Imri frowned at her while gently setting it back on its hook.

“There is enough food for myself in there, and I acquire more as I need it. The village provides for me most of the time anyway. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to re-evaluate what we might need for the cold season.” Picking at one of the partially healed cuts on her fingertips, she pressed until a drop of blood squeezed out. Flicking it into the fire, she smirked a little when Imri jumped back as the fire suddenly flashed and began to burn bright blue.

“Wow. That’s… impressive. A bit excessive, but exciting. I haven’t fostered with a pyromancer before.” The witch looked at him with surprise and was met with his own guileless expression. She reached for the jar of tea behind her on the table slowly, suddenly apprehensive.

“I’m not a pyromancer. Why would I need flint and tinder if I was? I’m a blood adept.” She furrowed her brow as she measured tea out into an infuser, wondering what he meant by fostering. Dropping the infuser into the boiling water, she stuck her finger in her mouth, running her tongue over the cut.

“What exactly did Mother Midnight tell you you would be doing while you stayed with me?” She tried to sound less concerned than she was, but it was hard to hide her growing anxiety about the situation. It was enough already that she would have to house and teach him, but quite a bit more uncomfortable if they held different expectations of what their time together would be like. Fostering sounded a great deal more domestic and involved than her envisioned student-teacher arrangement.

She suddenly felt sorry for her lack of warmth, and for thinking of him as a burden. Poor boy didn’t even have a proper family. At least her family had loved her all those years ago and her father had always taken care of her. She shook her head at the intrusive thoughts of her family and her frowning increased at her sudden sentimentality. She gathered cups from a shelf and ladled the floral smelling tea into them. Handing one to Imri, she took both dishes and started down the narrow hall to what was more or less the dining room.

“Only that my time with Master Ciribaal was up and that it was time for me to meet my next host. She usually shows up around my birthday to collect me, but this year she came early. Probably because I have no talent for alchemy or enchanting.” He sat where she put his plate, picking up one of the apple slice and inspecting it. “Did you cut these into… rabbits?”

“...Yes.” She hadn’t even done so on purpose, it just happening out of habit, a holdover from when Annise’s children and grandchildren had visited frequently. She pulled off pieces of the cake and absently consumed them, the gears turning in her head. Had Ciribaal been involved with the king? She thought about it and it didn’t seem likely from what she knew of her old friend.

It worried her that Baba Yaga had chosen her to see to Imri. It felt deliberate and at the same time like a mistake. Her magic was not one that could be taught easily and it was only more difficult if he didn’t have that the right parentage. Who his mother was, no one was sure despite the rumours. She wasn’t especially knowledgeable in the field of magical theory, and she hadn’t lived long enough to have very many stories to tell or sage advice to give. She could teach him herbalism and about the forest, how to be still and balanced, probably a thing or two about girls and love. But one either had magic or they didn’t, and she wasn’t sure that even if she proved to be an excellent teacher that she could unlock the potential for blood magic in him. What Baba Yaga expected her to do for the young man, she wasn’t certain.

“Yongsoon?” She jumped a little and looked at him with wide eyes. Having someone around to startle her when she was lost in her thoughts was going to take getting used to.

“What?” She’d crumbled her honeycake to dust on her plate between her fingers while distracted and looked at it with disappointment.

“What were you just thinking about?” She raised her eyebrows high in wonder at him. Her skin crawled as their gazes met, something about his face and his eyes piercing through her. She understood now a small piece of the puzzle. Or rather, she had found a piece but did not know how it fit with the strangeness that she was now involved in. He had eyes she’d seen before, eyes cold and pale blue like starlight, with hints of green and edged with darker blue. She was shocked she’d missed it before. Her unease did not go unnoticed, and feeling embarrassed by the intensity of her scrutiny, he looked down at his breakfast with renewed interest.

“I was thinking about Ciribaal. I should go visit him before winter comes. You’re right that it approaches quickly and he’s not very good about keeping the change of seasons in mind.” He didn’t reply, eating his food quietly, but she felt like she had “liar” written across her face.