Risa pulled the lockbox down from the shelf once more, and pulled out the scroll she had been reading. Learning about Zachariah and Wolf’s life together was more interesting than reading all the bad things Mr. Syvin’s family had thought about Katira.

A few days later, after she had performed her ritual and Laszlo had gone to his workshop, Sinta visited the hut with a single deer carcass.

“Miss Sinta! I’ve missed you so!” Risa exclaimed, throwing her arms around the older woman.

Sinta chuckled and ruffled the young girl’s hair. “Hello to you too, Risa. How are things faring?” she asked as Risa let her inside.

Risa chattered on about what had happened in the past couple of days as she set the kettle and prepared tea, while Sinta quartered and suspended the carcass from the ceiling. Sinta nodded thoughtfully when she told her about the stone from Svarog.

“That makes sense, Risa. I found a large hole in the ground with burns all around it around that time. It seems that Svarog did, indeed, send that sign to Mr. Syvin. It frightened all the animals away, too. I felt it in my shelter, and I was quite a distance from it. If he’s going to be in his workshop for the next while, perhaps I could have the assistance of our friend?” she asked the younger girl.

Risa nodded, and turned to get Katira, who was already climbing out of her pack. She scooped the tiny bear up, and set her on the table. “I don’t mind. I think I’m safe here. Safer than I have been for a very long time, anyway,” Risa said softly to the other woman.

“I would appreciate your help, friend. It is getting harder to find enough food for the three of us. I know I don’t have to help him, but it feels good and right to do so. Can you help?” Sinta asked quietly.

Katira nodded and crawled into Sinta’s belt pouch, where she nestled comfortably.

“And now, I need to get back to my home. There is still daylight, and I must still find food. I will see you in a week’s time, Risa. Be safe,” she said, giving the younger girl a hug.

Risa returned the hug, pouring all her hope and care into the woman, thinking that maybe, just maybe it would give her the edge she needed to find food for them all.

The next few weeks passed in relative peace. Each morning, Risa would perform the rituals Laszlo had dictated, and he would retreat into his workshop. Risa would spend the rest of the day reading the scrolls about Zach and Wolf, making the meals and the bread, keeping the hut tidy, and generally just being quiet.

Each week, like clockwork, Sinta and Katira would visit, usually bringing a rabbit or some fish to the hut. Sinta would tell Risa of the experiences she and Katira had had, and Risa would, in turn, tell them of the life of Zachariah and Wolf.

In time, Risa learned how to read and write the symbols on the pages with ease. She even came to understand them, after a fashion. So much so, that she began to feel a growing desire to do as Zachariah had done. After all, if Katira could do magic, why couldn’t she? Risa could find no reason to the contrary, so she began to look around the tiny hut for ingredients she could experiment with.

Sadly, Laszlo kept little in the way of herbs, seasonings and spices. Just salt, some crystallized honey and a tiny bag of little black beads. Not knowing what they were, Risa left them alone. Sighing, she gave up on the idea of making magic, and instead continued to study the texts in the chest.

It was early one morning in the Stag month when a bleary-eyed Laszlo emerged from his workshop, smelling faintly of sulfur and soot.

“I’ve done it, Risa. I’ve finally deciphered the message from Svarog. I must rest. Please, I need you to continue to be silent for a little longer. Just make sure food is ready for me later,” the weary, now rail-thin man said as he collapsed on his cot. He was asleep in moments.

Risa jumped up and fetched the ingredients for the day’s stew. She added the vegetables and chunks of dried, frozen meat into the pot, along with fresh snow, and set the arrangement over the hearth to cook.

Knowing that the act of making bread would likely make far too much noise, she opted to meet the baker to retrieve the bread they would need.

As she entered the small, warm building that housed the baker, she was greeted by the cat, Ruger, who leapt from his lofty perch and began to rub against her ankles. Risa knelt and began to stroke the large, fluffy, purring cat, who arched his back gratefully.

“Hello, Ruger. Is the Master available?” she asked the dark cat, who mewed in response. Risa chuffed a laugh and stood.

“Mr. Čermák? Sir, are you here? It’s Risa. I was wondering if I could trade for some bread?” she called to the depths of the shop.

“Risa? Is that you, little one?” a different voice than she was used to called back.

“Yes? Madam Čermák?” Risa replied.

Mrs. Čermák emerged from the back, wiping her floury hands on her apron. “Why, it is you, little darling! How are you?”

“I am well, ma’am. Mr. Syvin was needing some bread for today’s meal. I can trade, if you wish,” Risa replied.

“Oh, nonsense. Laszlo has always been a good friend to Blek, and Blek will always be a good friend to him. One moment,” Mrs. Čermák replied, dipping back into the kitchen.

Risa waited in the front, as Ruger flopped onto his back, asking for belly rubs. Knowing it was a deception, yet unable to resist the warm, fluffy belly of the cat, Risa gave in and began stroking the soft fur there.

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Unsurprisingly, the cat tolerated the treatment for approximately two seconds, and then attacked the small hand, latching on with his claws, and biting the tiny fingers.

Risa yanked her hand back with a yelp of pain and stuck a finger in her mouth, tasting blood. She could tell that, while not severe, the scratch was large, and would probably bleed for a good while.

Mrs. Čermák came out of the kitchens with a cloth sack of bread a moment later, and saw the young girl with her finger in her mouth. “Did Ruger get you again? I’ve told you not to trust him when he’s on his back. He does that to everyone. Even Mr. Čermák and myself. Come here. Let me see,” she said, motioning for Risa to come close.

Risa presented the wounded digit to the baker’s wife who, upon inspection, sighed. She disappeared into the kitchen again and returned a second later with a strip of cloth, some herbs and a paste of some sort.

She lay the cloth out on the counter and sprinkled a generous amount of the herbs into the middle of it. Then she folded it over and spread the paste over the wrapped herbs. She wrapped the bandage around the wound and tied it neatly with a bow.

“There. That will keep it from running pus. You should be okay. Off with you now, dearest. And don’t trust that cat’s belly!” Mrs. Čermák admonished.

Risa giggled and promised not to, then bade the baker goodbye. Gathering up her bread, she made her way to the hut. Once inside, she hung the sack of bread on the hearth, and checked the stew. It was far from done, and not burning, so she let it be, and busied herself around the hut with her chores.

An hour or so after sundown, Laszlo awoke. “Dear gods, I’m ravenous. Risa? Is the food prepared?” he asked with a mighty yawn and stretch.

“Yes, Mr. Laszlo. It finished some time ago. I have bread, too. Would you like some?” she replied.

“Please, child. Thank you,” he said as Risa handed him a bowl of stew and a small round of bread.

Laszlo ate with gusto, groaning with pleasure. Risa dared not disturb him until she was certain he had eaten his fill. Eventually, after two more bowls and a second round of bread, he did. He sat back in his chair, a hand on his belly and sighed heavily.

“Thank you, Risa. That was much-needed. Svarog hid His message deeply in the stone. I must now wait for the next full moon to complete what He has for me. Incidentally, what day is it?” he asked.

Risa counted on her fingers and looked up. “It’s the tenth day of Stag. There are five days until the full moon and the equinox,” she replied.

“Really!? That late, huh? Well, I suppose that you will be bidding me farewell soon. Especially since I know that you’ve performed the rituals without fail every morning and evening. I’ve been watching, you know. On the night of the full moon, there is one final ritual. Complete it, and you return home the next day. How does that sound?” Laszlo asked his young charge.

Risa’s face brightened. “Really? I can go home to my mother after that?” she asked hopefully.

“Absolutely. Assuming you complete the ritual properly, you will go home. I’m a man of my word, and I think that with the final ritual, you will be fully cleansed,” Laszlo said with a smile.

Risa’s excitement was palpable in the small hut. Laszlo smiled, knowing that the ritual would be the last thing she ever did with the demon attached to her.

In his mystical musings, he had discovered, quite by accident, that the stone was actually metal. A piece of magnetite stuck to it one morning, and Laszlo had meditated upon that fact for days. Eventually, Svarog came to him in a vision, and showed him a dagger made of the star-metal. Laszlo had slaved for the past week to craft the stone into a blade, going so far as to sneak off to the metalworker’s home to use his forge.

As he often did not emerge from his workshop until well into the night, when Risa was asleep, it was no trouble at all for him to do so undetected. Over the past week, he had crafted a blade that was not of the usual copper or bronze he was used to seeing. It was shiny and bright. Reflective enough that it was like peering into a mirror. He’d made a simple sheath for the tool on his own, along with a handle of blessed oak, and now carried it at his hip.

All Laszlo had to do now was wait.

Three days later, Sinta arrived at the door to the hut, excitement coloring her voice. “Mr. Laszlo! I’m glad to see you. I need some help. I’ve killed something huge, and I can’t eat all of it. Could you gather three or four strong young men and a cart?” she asked.

“Certainly! What is the nature of the beast? Boar? Bear? Deer?” he inquired.

“Aurochs,” Sinta replied smugly. “A bull, at that.”

Laszlo’s mouth dropped open. An aurochs? This tiny slip of a woman had managed to bring down one of the largest animals in the world? And a bull, no less? Truly, she must be one of the greatest hunters this world had ever seen.

Once he had regained his composure, he nodded. “I know just the lads. I will be back,” he said, then headed out the door.

“You really killed an aurochs, Miss Sinta? That’s impressive,” Risa commented, her eyes wide.

“I did. Katira is guarding it from wolves and the like. It’s massive, Risa. Bigger than Katira, even. I don’t know how we will get it back,” Sinta replied.

Together, the pair waited on Laszlo’s return. Risa had made tea, and they were sipping it gratefully by the fire when the door opened.

“We have help. Let’s go, Miss Sinta,” Laszlo said with a smile.

The pair put their mugs down and exited the hut. They saw several people with carts, axes and knives for cutting the beast apart. Confidently, Sinta led them all to the clearing where she had felled the beast.

As they approached the clearing, they were met by animal snarls. “Hurry! The wolves have found the kill!” cried one of the villagers. As one, the crowd stormed the clearing, launching arrows and spears at the pack of hungry wolves.

What they didn’t expect was the massive bear that was defending its find from the wolves. Several villagers launched arrows and spears at it, as well. A few even found their marks. By the end of it, three wolves were dead and the rest, along with the bear, were driven off. Three of the more enterprising young men made as if to give chase to the bear, but were called back by Laszlo.

“No! Leave it. If it survives, it will remember our sting and stay away. Nothing will be gained from killing one bear. These wolves, however, will be a fine addition to the meat from the aurochs, and they are already dead. Let’s get to work!” he cried, and began assisting in the dressing of the beasts.

After a couple of hours, all four animals were prepared, and loaded onto the various carts. Sinta was given not only the choicest cuts, but also the great horns of the beast. Laszlo and Risa returned to the hut with many pounds of not only the bull, but of the wolves, as well. The tanner promised to deliver a cloak to Sinta, made from the pelts of the wolves once he had finished with them.

A more rewarding hunt, Sinta had never had.