Page 19 of Tiger's Tale
“You don’t need her for that. Come. Pay your respects. Then I’ll take you as far as I can.”
The tree spirit took him behind the cottage, showing Nik where he’d buried his kikimora wife. He’d fashioned for her a beautiful coffin made of polished mahogany. A large tree had sprung up nearby and overshadowed it with its leaves. Despite the fact it was nearing winter, the tree was in full summer leaf, though the green leaves were quivering in the fall winds.
Nik knelt on the cold ground and said a prayer for his old babushka, thanking her for the gift of his tunic, surprised when he found he meant the words sincerely. Then he turned to the tree spirit and showed him the bag with the bread and salt.
“It’s not enough,” the leshi said, after his own moment of silent contemplation. “Come with me, boy,” he added, stirring much too slowly for Nik’s liking.
They entered the barn and Nik found, to his delight, the same nanny goat he used to milk. “You’re still alive, then, old girl?”
“She is. Stand behind her and give her teat a hard tug. You need a kick.”
“Right.” He winced, and said, “Sorry, girl,” more due to anticipating his own pain than feeling empathy for the old goat.
Baaa!
“Ow! Right in the knee! That’ll leave a weal.”
“Let’s hope it does. You’ll need it. Have you eaten?”
“Not much.”
“Good. You’ll blend better with nothing in the belly. It’ll keep your eyes sharp and your mind natty.”
As they moved from one group of trees to another, the tall creature warned, “Once you enter the edge of the forest, you’ll be tempted by viands of every type you can imagine. You’ll see pools of kefir, sbiten, kvass, or vzvar in cavities of rocks, borscht and ukha swelling up in tree stumps, stuffed blintzes and pierogi mushrooming in flower clusters or out of tree bark or hanging from leaves, and cream-covered smetannik adorning trees like snow. Do not be tempted by this. Don’t even touch this food. Itis a wurdulac trick. This is how they find you. Tell me you understand this.”
Nik nodded gravely just as his stomach growled at the mere mention of such delicacies.
The leshi ignored it.
“Why didn’t I notice those things before?” Nik asked.
“Because they weren’t there before. It’s as I said—he’s grown more powerful in the time you’ve been away. More desperate too. He wishes to draw others to him. It’s safer for him that way.” Before Nik could even begin to process that, the leshi moved forward, saying, “Let’s get on with it, then.”
Silently, they walked together to the edge of the forest, and they stood there until the leshi gave a twist of his long limb, signaling that it was finally safe to move into the tree line.
When Nik entered the hushed shadows of the trees, he’d expected the sinister prickly sensation of crawling things seeking refuge beneath the layers of his clothing, their tickling feet tracking a course along the bones of his spine and making the fine hairs on his body stand stiff, while his own slick sweat added to the swamp sweet perfume that rose up to bewitch his nostrils. What he hadn’t anticipated was the eerie quiet, the unnatural stillness of death that masqueraded as life.
Even the trees and underbrush felt wrong. When he placed his hand on the old, stiff trunk of a beech tree, Nik noticed that instead of the wide canopy with heavy, low branches and a silvery-gray color to the wood, the tree appeared spindly and thin, its trunk ghostly white. When he pulled his hand away, sticky syrup pooled in the cracks and dribbled down the bulging sides like fat tears, and dusty chalk clung to his hands as if he’d not touched a tree at all, but an artist’s rendering.
When he glanced up at the leshi, he saw similar tears leaking down the cracks in the tree spirit’s face and disappearing into his long, moss-green beard. They moved on, and Nik spotted a well-worn trail with a sign. It read...
?????????? ?????
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...or
Free Vodka
Ahead
Nik stopped and pointed out the sign to Larix, who shook his head sadly, ignored the trail, and continued through the trees, cutting his own path yet moving soundlessly. Nik followed, moving not as quickly or as quietly as the leshi, but he was still proud of the fact that he was much faster and more skilled than the first time he’d been in the forest. This was made clear to him when he earned not just one but several surprised looks from the tree spirit as they walked through the trees without so much as cracking a dried branch underfoot or stirring a leaf.
They made good time, not stopping until dusk, which was about the time Nik began noticing the strange temptations Larix had warned him about. Clusters of cheese blintzes winked at him from green stalks, tiny round cakes surrounded by glistening fruit petals, the inside of the edible flowers full of candied glaze bounced on leafy vines, and he even passed a hollowed rock with steaming soup bubbling inside, fat sausages rolling to the top, making his mouth water.
He resisted the temptation, though the smell alone nearly did him in. Once he even caught himself reaching for a blintze that burst open just over his head. It was shaped like a large flower and mounded in the middle with fluffy farmer’s cheese. Around the warm, doughy, fragrant petals, he spied thick berry sauce that pooled until it dripped down the tree branch. Nik knew that if he stood just beneath the blossom and opened his mouth, he’d catch some. He could almost taste it. Closing his eyes, Nik steeled his resolve and was about to push the branch out of reach when the leshi smacked his arm hard enough that he lost his balance and fell.
“I told you not to even touch it,” the leshi snapped at the cross young man.
