Chapter Text
The sun was an annoyance. Creeping through the windows that i stupidly left open. I wanted to groan, throw my pillow at the window and bury myself under the blankets that I covered my bed with. But the idea that Babushka would throw water on me to wake me up forced me out of bed.
Thankfully winter hadn’t set in yet, so i could still use my lighter clothes for a bit longer before going up into the storage space and hauling the thicker clothes out. So i slipped on the underlayers i had on yesterday as well as the blouse. It wasnt too dirty and plus no one really saw me, I was only out foraging. I yawned and snapped my fingers, the candles in my room setting themselves alight bathing the room in a warm glow. I flicked through my dress covers, the red one needed a wash, the green one was tempting but the lace needed to be repaired and I was not risking it ripping. As i flicked through my strangely large wardrobe I found the one I wanted. A white one with embroidered sleeves and matching apron. I pulled it out and slipped it on. Behind me, my door was forced open. The swishing of a heavy skirt was the only indicator someone actually came in.
“Hello Babushka”
“I told you to stop calling me that.” I checked if my hair had escaped my plaits and it hadn’t so I turned to face my mentor.
“And i told you to knock” she scoffed, her neck wreath of flowers rustling as she turned her head. She narrowed her eyes at my open windows and flicked her hand, causing them to slam shut. I jumped, she ignored it. She knew what I'd come from, she wasn't being intentionally rude, she was trying to build up my resilience. And I appreciated it, but not at the buttcrack at dawn.
“Any real reason you came to bother me right as you heard movement or just wanted to solidify me calling you babushka? Because you are sure acting like one-”
A light gust of wind smacked my head. And I smiled. She was nothing like my actual blood babushka. I had to remind myself of that sometimes. The thing with generational trauma is it sticks to you harder than thorns in a lace dress. I shock the thoughts of my life before this, this was my life now. I was Reka, a ‘river kitten’ and learning the ropes of magic, being a herbal witch and my newest lesson ghosts and spirits.
“Come on, Reka. We have things to do. Many, much more than previous days.” her long heavy skirt dragged across the floor as she left my room, and went downstairs to the heart of this strange home. I followed soon after, with my boots on now. I did not want splinters, again.
I was hit with the smell of fresh bread, porridge and pancakes? Must be a special day, for Babushka pancakes where for special occasions and special occasions only. As Babushka viciously enforced. By sending gushes of wind towards the back of my head anytime i suggested it. It was very effective.
I cautiously approached the table ladened with food, much more than a normal breakfast. She was already sat, sitting with her hands palms face up muttering. I took my place opposite her mirroring her pose and muttering my own prayers.
I am grateful for the new life I've been granted.
Thank you for these opportunities.
I shall serve you for as long as I walk this earth.
Honour you Siva. Mother of fertility and growth
I shall light your shrines
I shall burn in your praise
The world shall know your name again
Praise you Swargo, Father of flame and rebirth.
I cracked open my eyes, and the candles flicked in front of me, in either acknowledgement or just from the wind I don't know. Babushka across from me was already cutting up her pancakes and eating like it was her last meal. I was careful, going for my normal bowl of porridge with honey and berries sprinkled atop. We ate in silence for a while, before The Crows showed up, cawing and nudging my hands for the berries.
I sighed and threw some berries over to their bowl. They jittered towards it, cawing happily and pecking at them. “Sometimes its hard to believe they used to be witches.” I murmured, using a piece of bread to get the last scraps of my porridge. Babushka chuckled, “soon it will be you and me in their spots, watching the next generations of Witches make either stupid or clever calls which shall define witchcraft for their generation.”
“You use the word generations too much Babushka, one would expect you to call them eras. Or something less….” I looked around trying to find the word. And instead found the terrifying glare being sent my way, “im gonna stop talking now”
“Mmmmh best you do Reka. Best you do” she smiled at her pancakes and sighed before looking dead at me. “Im leaving tomorrow, before the sun rises. Its my time” i almost choked on my food. I knew my face showed my emotions more than I would've liked. “Its time? But its far too soon is it not? I've been with you-”
“Almost 5 years Reka. Most of us are lucky if they get 3. I only got 4. You are the luckiest of them all.” she stood up and walked over to me. She worked my fingers open from their clenched form and held them on her own. “We shall bless you tonight with the feathers of the crows to allow you to join the murder once you pass on.” she guided my hands to the crow wings on each of her wrists.
“The next time you see me, I shall be in the same form as them. And the smartest of them all” she guested to the small murder pecking away at the bowl of berries. “You are going to carry on this mantle. Then you shall choose another Reka, to pass on the title. And you shall join me in the murder after passing through Dziady, and we shall aid era’s of witches until the end calls for us.” She cupped my face and whipped a stray tear i didnt even know was falling.
“We all have to learn to run on our own river kitten. Now is your time.” i took a shaky breath before nodding. She smiled and released my hands. “Today you need to go gather herbs and ingredients for the blessing. I shall write you a list, then you need to bake several things to offer to the witches of old-”
Her words slowly stopped registering after a bit, she promised to write it down so I wasn't too bothered. She was the one who gave me a new life, an opportunity to start anew. To shed the old name given to me under the high lords, and a new purpose. I was happy to carry on the title she was given, and the one she received it from. I was proud to be Reka, and soon, the most revered and feared witch of my age.
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My first task of the day was the garden. The one I had grown from stray seeds and rotten apples. It was now flourishing and a herbal witches paradise. There were beds or wolfsbane, St. Johns worts and sage. Those were always regrowing since i needed them almost everyday. It was annoying that it was patchy with new growing shoots and the old ones slowly rotting. I let them, meant more seeds for me to replant. On the other side were my poppies and Flax, sitting neatly in their pots. And then, in the center, was my apple tree. The biggest thing I've ever grown and the first. It produced apples all year round, and that was something even Babushka couldn’t fully explain.
The crows cawed from the banches, and slowly their words became audible. “Look at you, little Reka is finally ready.” “i told you, she’s been ready for a long time” “Well that decision isn't up to us, its up to Baba Yaga. And she has decided now is the time” they chattered above me, occasionally pecking apples down. They never landed in the basket i had set up, it was still helpful.
“Well if it had been me I would've pushed her more. She has so much potential-”
“I can hear you ya’know. Thanks for the vote of confidence.” i picked up the now decently full basket and went to look for the dropped apples. Instead i found a different crow, one not apart of my murder, nudging apples towards the basket. They had glossy markings around their eyes, making them seem, kinder. I hovered my hand over its head and it jumped up, headbutting my palm.
“Are you gonna be there tonight? For the blessing?” i walked over to my storage, tipping the apples into the wicker bin. There was silence, and i stopped. “You aren't allowed, are you”
“Fraid not Reka.” the eldest came and landed on my shoulder. “But we will be there afterwards. And when you chose your own apprentice, we shall guide her like we guided you.” she nudged my head and i smiled.
“Ehuhhhh enough with the sappyness can we go flying now” the youngest of my trio of murders was always impatient. “Yes yes, we can go out and gather” the sharp high pitched cawing made me jump as the younger two flew around the indoor garden in celebration. The eldest still perched on my shoulder sighed.
“Morons, utter morons.” i laughed, and headed down the stairs. I had to clean up after breakfast while Babushka prepared herself. I took the uneaten plates of pancakes and porridge and placed it in our pantries. It was enchanted, that much i knew. Babushka didn't refuse to tell me the enchantment, more wanted me to learn my own spells. That i respected. I stood infront of the large oven that was the heart of this house, my house. Id been baking since before i could walk.
It was a comfort. Repetitive motions than used the same ingredients every time. I pulled the scrap pile of paper i needed to bind into a proper cookbook towards me and flicked the one with the recipe i needed to the top.
Wheat, garlic, salt, cabbage, damn it and pumkin. I clicked my tongue as i headed back up to the garden, i knew i forgot something when i was up their before. Ignoring my herbs and flowers i headed the planters holding my cabbage and pumpkins. I whistled as i pointed at them, and the crows descended from their perches on the rafters spearing the pumpkins with their beakes to break them up. Id dice them up finer later. I grabbed acouple handfuls and placed them into the scoop of my apron, the bottom of it balled into my fist.
I went back downstairs and threw the pumpkins onto the table, manovering them ontop of the chopping board. Opening one of the enchanted pantries next to the table i pulled out a bowl of dough. I worked the dough into balls the size of my palm, and placed them onto a tray when I was done. I only made a trayfull. The rest of the dough was left in the bowl and returned to the pantry. My gentle humming started to float about the space. Accompanying the chatter of the crows.
I diced the pumpkin thinner and pulled a bag of flour out from under the table, making a note that it was almost completely empty and i needed to find a town soon. The flour went in a new bowl with the pumpkin. I added an egg to help bring it together and started to mix it with my hands, mushing the ingredients together.
Once it was fully combined i wiped my hands on my apron. It was washed daily anyway so i didnt mind it getting dirty. Flattening the dough balls was easily my favourite part it was a good way to let out any annoyance, like how certain crows wouldn’t stop pecking at my window at stupid hours of the night. Into each squished dough ball went a spoonful of mixture. And a sprinkle of salt over the lot before I started folding and sealing them all.
The sun started to drift through the open windows and small holes in the hut creating small patches of gold across the walls and floors. The familiar sound of fabric swishing across the floor pulled me from my baking, there was now a tray full of pierogi’s waiting to be cooked sitting infront of me.
“Reka, oh these smell excellent-” Babushka ran her fingers over them, picking one up to inspect it. “I hope so, i used the last of the flour for them” she hummed. And i moved to start cleaning up, but the bowls and spoons id used floated for a moment, before clunking down back on the table. Completely spotless.
“Ah the best use of magic, getting out of washing dishes” i smiled and walked over to oven, intending on starting it up.
“Oh of course child. Now come, the merchant is in town and we have tradings to conduct.” she held up my bag that normally sat on my spell casting desk, and shook it, the potions wrapped in linen clothe inside clunked. “Okay okay- stop that or we’ll have no potions to trade”
Babushka let out a laugh, her cackling echoed. “Oh now you sound like a Babushka more than i do anyways” she swayed towards the door, her wreath of flowers was gone, and she was just in her dress and cloak. She looked normal. If you ignored the crazed look in her eyes. Thankfully most people did or we’d be hunted to the ends of the earth by witchhunters and townsfolk alike.
I untied my apron and pulled it off my head, throwing it in the basket of clothes to be washed that night. I pulled my own cloak off its peg and followed Babushka out the door, my own bag empty and ready to hold my foraging. The trees swayed around us, the rivers rushing nearby. We walked the short trail from our front door to the actual roads, where people on karts and horseback nodded at us. They probably assumed we had been down by a river, and I wasn't going to correct them. I'd rather not be hunted today.
The walk down into the small village wasn't too bad, our murder circled overhead. Not daring to come too close in case they gave us away. We were apart of their murder. Its understandable they want to protect us. It was still weird how none of them where perched on my shoulder. It was a nice constant having one of them there.
The town was alive with noise and people, it made me crave for the solace of my hut. The whispers flitting between lips and ears put me on edge. What if they know- we are strangers and look like we are witches for gods sake- a hand rested upon my shoulder.
“They wouldn’t have the chance to do anything if they knew. Our Murder would make sure of it." The whisper was so light on the wind I almost missed it. “You must believe in them. And yourself, in your ability to hide it, or the ability to fight them” My palm burned hot, the flames wanting to burst free and burn in Swargo’s honour- in my honour.
We were still walking, weaving in and out of people, some hanging their clothes up to dry while others moved sacks across their shoulders. The market square finally came into view and the Merchant we wanted was there, Thank Siva, otherwise we’d be at higher risk of one of the hunters searching out bags. That wouldn't be good. For anyone.
As we got closer to the merchant i raised my hand in a wave, a smile on my face. I didnt need to fake that, he was a good guy. And an even better smuggler. He was the one witches came too to get their potions, ingredients and talisman smuggled over to other witches, in the same coven or different ones.
“AH Reka, to what do i own the honour?”