He remembered this one, this young female human… the girl from the farm. The girl who'd saved his son! But now there was a difference to her… The leshy hissed in displeasure. Now she bore the unmistakable taint of City about her.
Yet I am still in her debt, the leshy admitted reluctantly. Just as much as I was with Brother Leshy. Debts must be paid. Aie, but I have sworn not to let city-folk pass!
It was a dilemma. He stood for a time, more still than anything of mere human flesh and blood, and pondered.
Aie, but these humans are such boring things!
With a whoop and a laugh, the leshy swarmed up a tree, startling a squirrel, tickling its nose, then froze again, thinking of that itch of a debt. He leaped lightly down to the forest floor with a sigh, and all the leaves about him stirred.
Vows are magic, not safely broken. So the forest shall not welcome her; no, it shall not.
He would let it do what it would do. And if, in the doing, the human was harmed or slain—that was the way of things.
Yet… the debt… I will not aid her until and unless she thinks to call upon me. The being paused, considering, then gave a foxlike bark of a laugh. Yes. It is the way it must be.
The human promptly forgotten, the leshy turned away and vanished into the forest's depths.
Well, what did you expect? Maria chided herself. A gentle stroll in the country?
For what had seemed like days, she'd been struggling through summer woodland that seemed grimly determined to stop her, thrusting out roots to trip her, branches to snag clothing and flesh. The ground beneath the deceptively smooth carpet of old leaves had proven so treacherous that she'd had to pick her way, thankful for her sturdy shoes, lest she do something as disastrous as twist or break an ankle.
«I don't remember the forest about the farm ever being as tangled as this, or as rugged!»
Still, the pull of the silver chain was leading her on. Maria stopped to wipe stray strands of hair back from her overheated face, then grimly continued. Akh, the fallen log she'd thought secure had rolled under her feet and sent her sprawling! Scratched and aching, Maria lay still for a moment, catching her breath, feeling the life-force of the forest all around her, powerful, indifferent…
No, not indifferent. It knew she was here, and it didn't care for the knowledge—
Oh, nonsense! She was beginning to think like Vasilissa.
Maria scrambled to her feet, trying in vain to wipe bits of twigs and leaves from her skirt, then started forward once more—only to stop short as she realized she'd been about to walk right into a gnarled giant of a tree. Shaking her head, she started around it, only to find her way blocked by a thorny thicket. After a vain attempt to find a safe way through the dangerous thing, she backed away-only to find herself backing right into the gnarled tree once more. She moved hastily aside, then froze, listening with all her might. Was it illusion—or the faintest, most inhuman sound of mocking laughter?
The wind, Maria decided after an anxious moment. It must have been the wind in branches. The boyarevna drew a deep breath, telling herself to go on. She had to find some safe, dry place to camp before nightfall, and night wouldn't be long in arriving. Though she guessed it must be late afternoon, the forest was already growing dark.
Maria shivered, anticipating the chill that would soon rise from the cooling earth. A fire, now—a nice, warm, cheerful campfire…
The forest seemed to flinch about her, almost as though it had caught her thought. Branches lashed at her as though the wind had caught them—but there was no wind. Gasping, Maria fought her way forward again, away from the old tree and the barricade of thorns—only to find her way blocked this time by two larches grown close together.
They weren't here like this a moment ago, I could almost swear it!
And the air had grown so still, so heavy, almost menacing. No, impossible. This was a forest, only a forest, not some demonic being!
Maria heard the softest slither behind her, and turned to see the impossible.
The branches of the thicket were stirring and spreading themselves, moving with slow, dreadful purpose, blocking the path she had just taken.
Heart racing wildly, Maria spun about again, suddenly terrified that the two larches might be working some darkness behind her back. But there they stood, innocent of any trace of that obscene, impossible motion, two solid, stolid young trees. And now she realized mat there was space between them, just enough space to let her squeeze through, were she careful. This was hardly the time to worry about it! Hastily, Maria began to worm her way through…
And the two larches began, creaking, to move together, closing the gap between them, very plainly sentient, very plainly intent on crushing the life from her.
In a burst of sudden, desperate inspiration, Maria struggled against the ever‑increasing pressure till she could reach the neckline of her blouse and whip out the magic‑drenched silver chain. The larches froze, then seemed to flinch away, just enough to let her force her frantic way through to safety. But as soon as she'd passed, the motion resumed, and the two trees crashed together with such terrifying force that Maria nearly screamed.
Something grabbed at her skirt. She looked wildly over her shoulder, to find that the hem had been caught between the trees. Fighting down hysterical sobs, Maria tugged fiercely until it tore and she was free. But not safe: the forest was all around her, hostile…
Pure, primitive rage burned away her fear.
«Dammit, I've done you no harm. Enough!»
It wasn't working. The forest wasn't interested in any-thing she might say. But Maria remembered one other
«Leshy!» she shouted. «Leshy of the forest, I call upon you! Honor your debt!»
The forest grew very still, a mighty sentient beast holding its breath. And a voice, strange and cold and never human, said out of nowhere:
«I am here. What would you?»
Maria let out a shaken gasp. «Safe passage," she said, trying to keep her voice level. «Safe passage through your realm.»
«Indeed? You ask for no small thing, human-girl.»
«I saved your son's life, leshy! Surely that was no small thing, either!»
The trees about her stirred restlessly, and Maria tensed, wondering if she'd gone too far. Then she heard the faintest of rustling sounds, and realized to her amazement that the leshy was laughing.
«Ah, the nerve of these human-folk! The sheer, foolish, ignorant nerve!»
«That's as it may be," Maria replied sharply. «But will you honor your debt?»
«Why, I must. Stand as you are, human-girl, stand still.»
Something stirred in the darkness, something reached out a branch or a hand to her brow. She gasped and bit her lip as a burning like ice seared her forehead. But as soon as it had come, the pain was gone, and Maria reached up a tentative hand to touch her forehead. No harm seemed to have been done…
«Now you are marked," came the leshy's cool wind-whisper of a voice. ' 'Though it is nothing mortal eyes can see. Now the trees shall not crush you, the paths not disappear before your feet.»
Why did she feel he was mocking her? What was the leshy deliberately not telling her? She pondered a moment before speaking.