The stranger lurched forward, pulling Olesya to his chest. One arm wrapped around her waist, his free hand cupping the back of her head. She stood frozen, stiff as a board, wide eyes staring at the depths of the shop behind him. The hearts beat softly in their crystalline cases, potions in oddly shaped phials glowed with diffuse light, casting odd shadows over the clumps of nightshade and wolfsbane growing in pots on the floor.

His soft hair brushing her cheek startled her into action. One fist came up, jabbing him sharply just under the ribs. A huff of breath escaped him, his arms loosening. She slid her hands between them, planting them on his chest and shoving as hard as she could.

The man stumbled and whirled, arching up onto his toes to avoid crashing right into the display of hearts. A soft laugh shook his shoulders as he slowly turned back around. His black eyes creased, his pink lips splitting in a broad smile that melted his severe features into something handsome.

Heart pounding hard against the scar on her throat, Olesya skittered back a few steps, clutching her scarf. She eyed the man, from his glossy black hair and his curved eyes to his clothes, down to his boots.

Solah. He was a foreigner from a small country just south of Olesya's.

Slowly, the smile began to melt from his face, leaving him looking drained and cold. His dark eyes were chilled obsidian when he frowned at her. "You don't know me. Do you?"

Olesya drew herself up to her full—if not exactly formidable—height. "Obviously."

The corner of his mouth twitched before he ran a hand over his hair, smoothing a few artfully loose strands back from his face. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, a million thoughts chasing themselves behind his unreadable eyes.

He blinked slowly, obviously coming to a conclusion. It startled her when he gave a shallow bow, bending square at the waist. "I'm—"

"My, my, my. Little Oleksandra Volinski back where she belongs." A voice like knives scrapping down a block of ice wound through the shop and crawled up Olesya's spine, making her shudder.

Fighting to keep her voice steady, she said, "Last time I was here, Babushka, you said I didn't belong." Heat flared at the hollow between her shoulder blades. "You said I shouldn't look to you for help."

"And you didn't." The voice came from behind her now. "And yet here you are. All alone and reeking of death." A hand brushed Olesya's scarf. "Again."

Something cold cut through the sleeve of her jacket as the owner of the voice slunk past her, quiet as a snow tiger. Her blonde hair was bright as starlight against the darkness of the room, her eyes of pale jade winking with amusement.

Olesya's least favorite face on the voldicz. 

The shapeshifting witch swayed over to the man, grabbing his chin and turning his face first one way, then the other. He lifted an eyebrow, gently grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away. She smiled her radiant smile. "You smell of blood."

He nodded gravely, crossing his arms over his chest. "You smell like a wet dog."

Vasilisa's hand flashed out, colliding hard with the man's face. "Carefully, pi-yeo. Your kind aren't welcome here, either."

Blood slid down to his jaw from the scratches she'd left on his smooth cheek. He touched the wounds, peering down at the red staining his long fingers. Olesya's stomach heaved in rebellion at the sight, and she quickly turned away. Skirting around the shelf of hearts, Olesya met Vasilisa at the long counter that stretched the length of the shop, which, upon closer inspection, was much larger than it was on the outside.

"I am here," Olesya agreed. "And I...I need..." Her words choked and trailed off.

"What?" Vasilisa purred. "What do you need, Olesenka?"

The diminutive wrapped around her heart, trying to crush it under memories this place was bringing up to the surface to slam against her. To cut her apart. That name should never pass this monster's lips.

But all Olesya could do was glare as the witch hauled herself up onto the cluttered counter, knocking precious stones and crystal figurines to the floor. Olesya wrestled with her pride and nearly lost the battle before she slipped her fingers beneath the scarf, stroking the scar beneath. 

"Something happened, Babushka. Something...happened to me." Her voice broke on the last word. Olesya looked down, knowing weakness would only elicit contempt.

There was silence for a long moment. 

"Remove your scarf."

Olesya started, whipping around. The order had not come from Vasilisa, but the foreign witch standing in the middle of the shop. His eyes were glued to her neck. He barely managed to meet her eyes again when he repeated himself. "Remove your scarf. Please."

She glanced at Vasilisa, wondering if the voldicz was going to let him get away with throwing around orders in her shop. But all Vasilisa did was fold her legs up into a criss-cross beneath her and prop her chin on her hand. She raised a pale brow at Olesya, gesturing for her to hurry up.

Heart thumping away at her ribs and something hot and unpleasant crawling up her throat, Olesya lifted her hands. Slowly, so slowly, she unwound the warm fabric until the cool air of the shop brushed her skin.

Hands shaking, she dropped the scarf on the counter and lifted her chin. The man eyed it, face carefully still. Vasilisa leaned forward before letting out a chuckle. Green eyes sparkling, she smiled. "My, Olesenka, what have you gone and done?"

Word Count: 919

Total Count: 4165