The Shining Falcon

Finding a broom, thought Maria wearily, was proving to be the least of their problems, a simple matter of tying a bundle of long twigs to a stout stick with a scrap of the rope blessed Sasha had thought to include in their supplies. While their father struggled, swearing under his breath when he thought his daughters couldn't hear him, to provide Brownie with at least a makeshift stable out of one of the half-ruined sheds, she and Vasilissa set about sweeping out the farmhouse as best they could, holding their breath against the various smells, till at last Lissa burst into tears because her delicate hands were beginning to blister.

Maria was in no mood to be sympathetic. «And you think mine aren't? Stop whining!» She brushed her disheveled hair back impatiently. «If you don't want to sweep anymore, why don't you go get us some water instead?»

Vasilissa, still sniffling a bit, obediently disappeared, only to come hurrying back inside. «The rain barrel's nearly empty, and there's something green and disgusting growing in it.»

«Ugh. We'll have to see about scrubbing that out. But for now… we passed a stream on our way in here. If you take one of the buckets — "

Lissa stared at her in horror. «Go into the forest, you mean? Maria, no. I can't.»

«Whyever not?»

«Don't you know? Maria, They are out there! The) won't pass that palisade, but They are out there, just beyond it… Don't you feel Them?»

«Oh, Lissa, now what?»

«Demons, Maria, forest demons…»

«There aren't any demons!»

But the young woman's eyes were so wide with unreasoning fright that there was no arguing with her. Maria gave a wordless cry of frustration, snatched up a bucket herself, and started forth, trying to make some useful plans as she went.

Demons in the forest, indeed. It was too lovely out here, quiet and green, the stream sparkling in sunlight shining through thick leaves, to believe in them. Far easier to accept the existence of beings out of the old tales, the sly, mischievous nature sprites which, if they were sometimes perilous for humans to meet, at least had no concept of true evil. Maria sat on the streambank and looked about with undisguised pleasure, revelling in the moment of solitude, breathing in the clean, spicy air, feeling a sudden sense of peace such as she'd not had a chance to enjoy in… she couldn't even remember how long. Granted, this was wilderness, and there might be dangerous creatures about, bears, she supposed, or wolves, but right now she was finding it very difficult to worry about them.

Eh, but pleasant though this was, she couldn't afford to loiter, and Maria reluctantly scrambled to her feet. Tonight they would have to sleep under the wagon for shelter, and eat whatever dried provisions Sasha had included. At least they would have clean water to drink, even though the filled bucket was proving far heavier than she'd expected and‑curse it all, she'd hit the lip of it against her knee and gotten herself drenched! But by tomorrow, Maria told herself with a sort of clenched-teeth cheerfulness, the farmhouse would be clean enough and aired out enough. They'd have a roof over their heads once more.

She had forgotten—they ah» had—that the roof leaked. They remembered it the next night, when the rains came. «I should be able to replace the missing shingles myself," muttered Danilo from their dubious shelter bade under the wagon. «They're only slabs of wood, after all. Damn! I'll have to waste a day cutting new ones from the planking of the sheds instead of going into the village to get us a plow of some sort. The roof has to be fixed before we can— But we have to get started on the soil right away if the seeds are to be planted in time for any sort of harvest and— Akh, I forgot, we've also got to do something about getting some chickens‑making a coop for them—getting food for them—for us…»

He broke off in dismay, staring helplessly at his daughters. And Maria, just as overwhelmed as he at the ordeal before them, could find nothing hopeful to say, nothing at all. Instead, she and Vasilissa silently moved into Danilo's arms, and the three of them huddled together in desperate, loving courage.

«I can't do any more," Vasilissa whimpered. «Maria, I can't.»

Maria didn't even bother looking up from her weeding: cabbages, turnips, carrots, whatever grew quickly and could be stored for a long time; the village women, if not exactly friendly towards strangers, had, at least, been willing to teach her the basics of gardening. «You can.»

«I can't! I'm just too tired.»