A human’s arrow could not have pierced Zima’s heart as deeply as her brother’s words. Trust, honesty…that was everything to a pack. The canyon had widened so far between them that Zima could never hope to leap across it.
Zima lowered her gaze. She wanted to argue, but heartbreak held her rigid.
Grom’s growls still swam through his words as he said, For now, you are not to go near the others. You are not to venture from the home place. When I have decided I can trust you again, I may reconsider. And—he paused, preparing to add even more to the weight of dishonor he had heaped upon her—if I ever find out you have spoken to that witch again, you will be banished from our pack.
Zima thought she detected a hint of sorrow in his words, but whatever she heard was gone in an instant.
Now, let us return to the others, said Grom. He leapt forward and disappeared into the shadows.
Part of her wanted to stay behind. But instead, she followed close at Grom’s tail as he led the way to their home place.
* * *
—
As soon as Zima caught the familiar scent of the home place, Grom signaled for her to keep her distance. For the rest of the night, Zima was left to herself. She couldn’t play or hunt, and was forced to sit alone listening to the hooting chorus of nearby owls. Grom had taken Potok and Leto away from the clearing, out of sight and earshot of Zima. Her heart sank lower. Whatever plan he had for protecting the pack from Baba Yaga and the humans, he meant to keep Zima out of it.
Somewhere within her, lightning flashed. This wasn’t fair. She’d spent her whole life protecting the pack. When Grom became their leader, she’d followed his every rule, believing that it was for their safety. Backing down now, letting the others work to protect the pack while she sat and watched and did nothing…it was unbearable.
She’d start with Potok. He was less headstrong than Leto, and hated violence. The two were the same size and age but could not be more different. If she could find a moment with him alone, maybe she could get him on her side. He would be overjoyed at the thought of running from the humans.
Finally, the sky began to lighten, and it was time for rest. Zima nestled her chin on her paws. As the others returned to the clearing and everyone drifted off to sleep, her last thought was to will herself awake before anyone else. Potok’s certain excitement at hearing her plan sang in her ears, drowning out all sounds of her family’s snores.
As Nadya dipped her hands in the cold water of the washbasin, a shadow fell over her. She looked up, expecting Katerina to chide her for the scratches and scrapes she’d earned in the woods, but instead found herself staring at Mrs. Orlova, the mistress of the orphanage. She was not an old woman, but there were hard wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, like canyons that had been worn into rock over time.
“What will I do with you once Katerina is gone, hmm?” she said, though it didn’t seem as if she actually expected an answer.
Nadya wanted to respond that Mrs. Orlova wouldn’t have to do anything, that she would leave the orphanage for the woods before long, but she kept her lips pressed tight together and instead finished washing her hands. She yelped as the woman reached out and took Nadya’s wrist, holding her hand up so that the wet palm glistened in the candlelight. The tree she touched in the forest must have been poisonous, because the red marks had begun to swell and blister.
Mrs. Orlova frowned. “I only want to find each of you girls nice families. But I can’t help you if you don’t want to help yourself. Wandering off into the woods, neglecting your chores and sewing…you’ll never impress a family by being disobedient,” she said, examining the wound. “Katerina knew this. She tried to get you to understand. At least you sometimes listened to her.” She let Nadya’s wrist go, and Nadya pulled her hand close to her chest.
Mrs. Orlova sighed. She patted her dark hair, which was slicked back into a severe bun. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” she said, “but Mr. Demidov needs a new servant. It might be time I send you to him.”
The pulse in Nadya’s wrist quickened. Mr. Demidov lived west of the village, miles away from the forest. Working as a servant was undesirable enough, but if she went to him, escaping into the woods would be almost impossible.
Regret flitted across Mrs. Orlova’s expression like a moth. “At least this way, you’ll have a future.” The expression vanished, and her features were once again in their usual stern arrangement. “I will write him tomorrow.”
The woman’s quick footsteps were already thumping against the wooden floor toward the door. Mrs. Orlova blew out candles as she passed, hushing the other girls, who were huddled under blankets in their shared beds. Nadya opened her mouth to call after her, but only a croak came out. When the door closed, Nadya was swallowed by darkness.
She could leave. It was sooner than she’d planned, but it was an opportunity. If she waited, how long would it be until Mrs. Orlova sent her to Mr. Demidov and cut off her access to the forest completely? She crept toward where her cloak hung on a peg, her fingers itching to snatch it so she could leave this very night.
The door creaked open again, making Nadya jump, but the soft footsteps, light as a cat’s paws, soothed her with their familiarity.
“Nadya?” said Katerina’s voice, and light from her single candle blossomed in the darkness. “Is that you by the basin? I thought you’d be asleep by now.” Unlike Nadya, Katerina was allowed to come to bed later, along with the other older girls. But Nadya wasn’t ready for sleep, not after Mrs. Orlova’s proclamation.
Nadya had known Katerina since she was two years old, when an illness had swept through Nadya’s old village and claimed her family. Katerina had been at the orphanage since she was a baby, abandoned by no one knew who. All the girls looked up to Katerina as almost a big sister or a teacher. In those first few years, when Nadya cried to soothe the ache of missing her parents, only Katerina’s songs could stop the tears.
Katerina moved to sit on Nadya’s bed, and motioned for Nadya to settle beside her. She’d brought some herbs and medicines with her, and she spread them out on her lap. With gentle but assured swiftness, she took Nadya’s hand and examined the cuts across her palms. Katerina dabbed a salve over the blisters, holding tight to each wrist so that she could work even as Nadya flinched from the burn. Nadya hated it when Katerina babied her like this, but the salve did soothe. And wounds dressed by Katerina always seemed to heal faster than when Nadya took care of them herself. At last, Katerina wrapped Nadya’s hands in soft bandages and let her go.
She gave a sigh. “I was so embarrassed, Nadya, at the tsar having to rescue you today.”
“He didn’t rescue me!” Nadya snapped, even though that wasn’t quite true. Katerina’s words stung, but not as much as the tears that pricked at the corners of Nadya’s eyes.