"Who are you?"
The question hung in the air as Nadya stood, frozen in fright and shock at the sudden appearance of the older woman that stood at the bedside of the tiny one, Nicolai II. The child seemed to 'sense', if that was the proper word, that someone unfamiliar was near and he blindly reached up, searching in his weakened state.
Baba Yaga deigned to turn her head and look down at the sickly babe without a touch of emotion on her ancient facial features. Her gray eyes just watched as the child searched the only way he was capable of, being both blind as well as mute. Though the witch of fables and lore appeared without interest, she still shifted her stance enough to bring her withered hand closer to where Nicolai II could drift his own tiny fingertip against her old skin.
"Do not touch him!" Nadya hissed. "I know who you are!"
"Do you?" Baba Yaga answered back with barely a hint of interest, the question merely rhetorical. She watched as the small hand receded back to the child's side and pulled itself deep under the blankets, a chill having sent a shiver through the babe and he sought the warmth and comfort. Only then did she turn and look at Nadya and she casually shrugged her shoulders. "Why do you not tell me who I am, then? Hm? Amuse me."
Nadya swallowed. A brave woman, was she, but she did indeed know who this was who just by-passed every charm and security measure she personally installed in this homestead for precautions. It would take a witch of immeasurable power, and the only one in this old world country would have to be...
"Baba Yaga." Nadya whispered coarsely, swallowing to relieve the dry feeling her throat now experienced. Only when the name was given voice, did Nadya begin to find herself and calm down in the face of this most dangerous of witches. All through the world has her family did battle against the shadows of legend for centuries, yet here stood one of the darkest known. In her homestead, and over her grandchild.
Nadya stood firm and took a step forward, "I know what children are to you. You will not have this one!"
Baba Yaga just stared at this mortal woman. All too easily could she simply sever the lifeline of this elderly woman who seemed to dare oppose her. It would but a word to her for the insolence displayed, but it was not why she was here. Baba Yaga turned her head just slightly to again look at the child, then smiled. It was a cold smile, one without warmth or humor. She huffed through her nose and gazed at Nadya and shook her head.
"If I came for this little one, I would already have him in my possession. And you? You would be unable to stop me, I am certain." Baba Yaga stated matter-of-factly. "I think you know me well enough to understand that for the truth."
"Then..." Nadya whispered and shook her head, not able to grasp what was behind this unsettling experience. "Then why are you here?"
Baba Yaga set foot forward until she stood a mere foot away from Nadya and she answered, "Because the young one who visited me is on his way home, but will not arrive in time in this storm. Now. Do you wish my help or not?" She raised her brow questioningly.
"Andrei?" Nadya shook her head. "Andrei asked you for help?"
"No." The witch answered. "He did not need to. Yet I gave it anyway. Now am I to do as I promised, or do I take my leave and let the babe die from sickness? It is really of little consequence either way."
Nadya's rheumy eyes looked away from the witch's own steel gray gaze and to the small form in the bed. It stirred and make a gurgling noise as it tried to draw in a breath, and the child's only reward was a painful, almost silent cough. It tore away at Nadya's defenses, and she closed her eyes. A lone year slid down her wrinkled cheek as she found her voice, "God help me."
She opened her eyes and nodded, giving the witch her leave. She could only pray she did not just make a mistake that the precious one would live to regret.
Baba Yaga nodded, then said simply, "Get me hot water, and lots of it." And she turned back toward the babe's bed.</color>
"Such a tale of endearing sentiment." Brother Grimm huffed. "I believe I am going to gag."
The witch chuckled as she remained in her rocking chair, her hands working on the knitting in her lap. She glanced up and said amicably, "You did ask me to tell you of the experience. If you did not wish to know, then perhaps next time you will refrain from something as mundane as curiosity."
"Perhaps next time I'll simply skip the pleasantries altogether." Grimm sneered as he pushed himself up from the old wooden chair he had taken for a seat and he walked around the hearth until he stood at the mantle of the fireplace, and he looked at the dancing flames. "And the male managed to return?"
"Oh yes." Baba Yaga stated. "He returned to find the babe already beginning the first stages of recovery. Of course, I was long gone by then, back to where I sit now. I admit surprise, myself, that he managed in such a storm. The child's welfare obviously drove him further, and he used my knitting for its intended purpose. Hm! The mortal heart can push them beyond their known limits in times so dire."
Brother Grimm made a disgusted noise and turned away from the fireplace and instead made for the door latched shut.
"Going somewhere?" The witch asked as he grasped the handle and pulled the door to the hut open with a hard flourish.
Grimm cast a look back over his shoulder and his amber eyes flashed with malevolence. "Anywhere is better than here at the moment. You've done a great many things, but aiding those that banished me, even in such a trifle manner?" He shook his head in disgust and slammed the door behind him.
He left Baba Yaga still in her rocking chair, and she simply chuckled and resumed her knitting.</color>
"I have to admit that being eternal can become something of a tedious bore. The secret to enduring the never ending years is to find something that amuses you and exploit it for everything that it's worth, for as long as possible. This little jaunt in the mortal coil, competing as one and the same as they, was what I thought would be such a solution. After all, the ancient Romans took such pleasures in watching their gladiators do bloody combat, and the followers of that deceitful fool thrown to hungry felines all in the name of an entertaining evening of fun, mirth, and death for all to see. So why not believe that this time would be any different, as mortals did modern and legal combat against each other with the only glory being meaningless green money and trinkets worn around the waist. One such trinket, currently in my own possession."
"Has this been such a time? Worthy of my efforts and entertaining? Well, it would be if the efforts that I have put in were against men, and I use the term with all biting sarcasm, were somewhat of equal standing. I have held this title since the beginning of the new year, and to date, have faced few and far between men who could offer me a legitimate challenge. The very Romanov who banished me seemingly ages ago gave me a far better fight, and then, like now, I am yet here, ever lasting, ever stronger."
"Michael Hardy. Kain. Every single challenge that those in power have placed before me have fallen by the side, for me to advance further with only more souls to collect and satiate my vulgar appetites. And now, perhaps the feeblest of all the challenges, Andrew Garcia, has seen fit to step before me and offer his own soul against my prize. I can not help but wonder what it is about this emblem upon a leather belt that makes these fools wish to risk their afterlife with loved ones in paradise itself, against me and my bag of torments. Why do you wish to risk everything to attempt to depose me, Andrew Garcia, when none other has been able? What makes you believe that you are the Chosen One?"
"*chuckles*"
"I mean, after all, were you not just defeated last week? Were you not forced to yield your strength as well as your pride when you submitted to another? How does such a tainted loss, such an embarrassment, qualify you for a title opportunity the very week after? Hm? Perhaps you gave someone higher up than yourself some comely favors? Perhaps your lips planted against the boss's backside was sufficient enough to hand you your fate on a golden platter? Do you truly believe that you will repay such a 'kindness' by bringing gold back to this new stable you have become such a vital part of? Hm. Then perhaps it would do you well to come to the realization that to 'Hot Stuff International', you are but a pawn. Easily sacrificed, and quite worthless. A king always allows a pawn to go first, to weed out the undesirables. And you, my fated opposition, have just been sacrificed by the king."</color>
