Chapter Truth and Stone


    The day her mind awoke Rose defended herself well against her Father. As they would spar she was able to speak to him and not have to gasp for air. Little he found could distract her anymore; her determination fueled her raw talent. At sixteen she fought as well as any other boy her age would have, better.  She still was not allowed back into the woods. At first in her grief she had only wanted to spend time with those closest to her. Today after some thought in her bed Rose realized she had been deterred from one form of study.


    Yesterday in the garden Grandmother had cursed the bear under her breath, something she had been cautious not to do for a long while.  Rose might have missed it except for the familiar creases in her forehead and aggravated kick at the dirt. Rose felt strong again. She knew it was time. The trickster within the bear perhaps could never be touched yet if she studied the secret arts of her mother Rose was certain something could be revealed. She shared these thoughts to no one, not even to Martha.


    As charmed as she had become with her on nights when she styled Rose’s hair or danced in the moonlight of the window she still did not trust her entirely. After all she had come unexpectedly and even Frost had said she was someone else’s slave. More and More Rose found her smiles to be frozen and doll-like.


    “Father, I do not wish to cook this afternoon.” Rose announced with a flurry of blows from her staff.


    “You never wish to cook Rose.” Ivan knocked aside her assault with ease.


    “What I mean to say is that I am going up to Sadko’s this evening to clean his cottage and check on the geese.” Rose ducked and weaved from his counters.


    “Only three left, we have eaten the rest. You really must stop calling it Sadko’s cottage. He is dead, it is your inheritance. Wait and tomorrow I shall help you with repairs.” Ivan made more attempts at her feet to make sure she wasn’t getting too comfortable with one stance.


    “I felt I had left it in disrepair for too long. Besides, I missed Sadko’s farewell celebration. I wish to go and soak in old memories alone.”


    “Very well,” Ivan relented in attack as well as words. “As soon as Martha is done I shall send her to you with some bread and cheese.”


    This is exactly what Rose had hoped for: she made her way up to Sadko’s after the lesson finished. First she went to the barn and fed the geese, this being a regular chore. Ever since her return the dove still nestled in the rafters which she hoped was a sign that its master would return. The boy had vanished just at a time when she had so many questions to ask him. Why was Frost after him? For she assumed it was his scent that Frost smelled upon her.  What door had he opened between worlds? Was this why a witch hunted him? Perhaps the boy had blamed himself when she had been missing and her Mother had died. If so she understood his pain and did not blame him


    Rose began thinking about the brown Wolf creature in the woods. She suspected, rather hoped, that was the true murderer. Her Father believed her story about the beast attacking Sadko. Whether or not he agreed with the exaggerated size of the animal was another story. When searching for her he had found large wolf tracks in the woods, which is why he had begun to train a captured “dog” for Grandmother’s protection. She had already grown weary of caring for the white dog and gave it to Miller. Rose had not seen the animal again since her arrival.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Father was adamant about not mentioning Wolves to the villagers. Such was their fear of the old days. He was more intimate to Rose’s horror about the small details when he found Elena that indicated it was a bear that did it. Rose could not be assured. She had not seen the evidence for herself. She went into the house in case her Father was still observing her from the outside.  She saw no sign of him. That did not mean anything. She then snuck out the window and around the well. Soon she was down the hill and through the field and to the place she longed for.


    The shrine was overgrown. The neglect was proof that no one else in the village knew of this place.  Rose endured the sight only briefly before tending to it as she once observed her mother do. Many of these skills she had learned from her Grandmother in the garden. She pruned back the plants with little scissors, and cleared out the obvious weeds.  She left the area looking wild enough that the stones were still well hidden, she polished them when finished.


    Rose knelt to the ground and tried to remember the old prayers. Reciting the old language she had never quite forgotten yet was buried deep below all her other lessons. Soon the Old Jack hopped out before her.  It opened its mouth and spoke.


    “Thank-you I can reside in this place without melting.” It was the voice of Fedor.  It turned to examine the sparkle of its back.


    “Fedor, why did you kill my Mother?” Rose decided to give the deity’s pet one chance to explain.


    “Your mother is not dead.” The great rabbit stood up with a start; ears twitching.


    “She is dead, murdered by a bear in the woods.” Rose picked up two of the last stones she had been polishing.


    “Are you truly a demon that saved me? Was my Mother the cost?” The edge in her voice started to rise at his denial and blank look. She thought she had faced this hurt that began well within her. She changed to the old language remembering her well aimed attack before. “I saw blood on a bear’s shoulder confess!”


    She threw a stone which was absorbed into the Old Jack’s stomach, his eyes turned into white pebbles just like the stone.


    “The blood on my coat was from my own mortal frame after being attacked. You would recall if your mind wasn’t so feeble and easily swayed. Your Mother went upstream with Sadko.”


    “They live?” Rose dropped her other stone in shock. She went down on her knees before the Chill.


    “She is a slave to Lueda Yedka, the witch of this land that all but one child fears.”


    “Is it Martha? Or is it the boy I met?” Rose entreated. Old Jack’s nose began to twitch terribly and out shot the stone from its belly hitting the tree next to her. Its eyes were dark black coals again.


    “That was a nasty trick; I shall not forget your abilities when next we meet.” Fedor’s little puppet scrambled allowing for no further questions. Rose picked up the stone as a memento; it was so cold it nearly burned her. She dropped it into her cloak pocket.


    No sooner had Rose made it to the other side of the field than Martha appeared before her with bread and cheese wrapped in a cloth. Rose chewed half heartedly. What if Martha was a servant of the witch? As her eyes focused on Martha’s face across from her she noticed its likeness to her other friend.  Was it a trick of the evening light or perhaps the fact that so recently she had thought of him in the same context?


    No, these two had features very similar; she was certain though she had not seen him in a while. She remembered Martha’s hair clippings taken by her Grandmother so blonde it was nearly white just like the boys. Though true her features were more feminine she had bright blue eyes that were similar to the one blue eye of the boy. Rose felt foolish for not noticing this before.


    “Your people Martha, are they all so pale and have long fingers?” Martha only smiled, perhaps unable to answer. Then a horrifying thought occurred to her. What if her friend had not run away? What if he was right here before her? What if he had been changed by the witch into a girl? Rose suddenly remembered Frost’s words in the little warm cabin. “She is not what she seems.”