Work Text:
The withered crone wore her age like her robe: loose and frowsy, so that Vasilisa could not judge her host’s strength by sight alone.
“Come child, you shall keep company with me tonight,” Baba Yaga spoke matter-of-factly, her intentions as secreted as her house. Then with a bark of a laugh she added, “Tis dangerous to wander in the forest so late.”