"Baba Yaga." Karina repeated the name slowly. "Why does she have the word yaga in her name, though?"

"Title is important," Nyx said carefully. "It's who you are. Yagas create their own titles, which become their names. And names hold power."

"Interesting," Karina murmured. And then: "You want me to find her?"

"Yes. I want her to train you, as well, but you're going to have to earn that."

"What does she look like?"

"Depends on the day, Karina. I'm going to let you back into the Forest of the Dead soon. Do you have any more questions?"

"Who--" She pressed her lips together. "Who is Mara?"

"Mara." He paused. "Galatia, now. Interesting. But it's not my story to tell. Talk to Baba Yaga about her."

"She'll know?"

"Of course she'll know." Her stomach jerked as a feather brushed her skin. "She's the one who trained her." He pressed a feather into her hand, and she carefully placed it into her pocket. "I have a question for you now. Have you heard any odd voices in your head lately? Ones that are decidedly not yours?"

Her body stilled. "Yes," she said in a hushed whisper. "But it wasn't in that memory, and I don't--I don't know why."

"I do," Nyx said abruptly. "I will get back to you on that. Goodbye, Karina. Call on me when you need me."

And everything fell away.

Her stomach was yanked upwards, and her heart started beating at an overwhelming rate as she was thrust into free-fall. The breath was torn from her lips, and her limbs moved carelessly around her. In the distance of her mind she could hear a high-pitched scream that shook her to the core. She couldn't see, couldn't feel anything but the cold air that rushed around her.

That is, until the thorns began scratching her sides, leaving her with only one thought: It's coming. It's coming. It's coming. It's--

She slammed hard against something hard that had what felt like Moracian cloth covering it. It smelled like wood smoke, mud, and rose soap. A distinct scent that she had identified as she travelled with it, a scent that was comforting in its own way. As soon as she had regained her breath, she whispered, "Hans?"

Her response was warm fingers on her scalp, pulling through her knotty auburn hair like a comb. "Yeah, Karina," Hans responded softly after a while. "You okay?"

"No." She didn't want to sit up, but she did, until she was on her own and curled up into a fetus-like position. "I saw my mother."

"What?"

She trembled and hugged herself tighter. "Vasilisa Hedge."

Hans sat up, facing her. "How is that possible? What did you do? Where were you?"

"In the Night. With the Night. In a--a fantasy." Her voice shook.  "I wish I didn't believe what I saw."

"What did you see?" Hans sounded oddly understanding, oddly sad. Hans wrapped his arms around her. "I know that it was hard, whatever it was," Hans said comfortingly. "But you'll be okay. We can get out of the Forest of the Dead. We can find some future."

"I know," she whispered. "But I--was my mother a murderer?" The words slurred together like Olga's had whenever she was drunk. Hans nodded his head slowly.

"I knew it," she whispered, "I just wish I didn't have to believe in it."

"I'm sorry, 'Rina."

They sat there for a while, quietly, until Karina said: "Why are you different?"

"What do you mean?" He sounded more solemn than she'd ever heard before. And then: "I'm still the same person you knew in Moracia."

"Which one?"

He paused. "The one who shouted at Duras when society killed his Da. The one who cried when he shot an arrow straight into the target for the first time because he was so happy. The one...The one you missed when you realized I had left you behind."

The last words made her eyes widen. "How do you know about that?"

He stood up and dusted off his trousers. "It's a long story. Let's walk."

--
"I was nine years old when my Da died, you know? I had never felt anything so sad. I'd seen it on my Ma's face when my brother was injured. But I was sad. I was angry. I--I was alone. And I didn't like it." He pressed his fingers against his temples. "I then told myself that I'd never be alone again. Instead of my older brothers, I'd be the important one. The one that commanded respect, that became village leader. I'd be like my Da. Only..."

His words trailed off, but Karina knew exactly what he was thinking. Only I wouldn't die.

Once upon a time, she'd believed the same sort of thing. That her parents wouldn't die.

And then they did, and she realized that there was no hope left for her.

"So. Anyway. I, uh, bought into Duras's image. Became a good hunter, became a desirable bachelor. I was the person that would be village leader. I would be it. I learned to handle what life gave me, learned to not put my heart in anything. I was it."

"When you called on the Night, I called on the Day. And she showed me some long gone memory, but the thing is, it wasn't mine."

"It was yours. Of me."

This is why you don't trust him.

Karina stopped walking. "What." She could hear the blood thrum through her mind, could hear everything but Hans's words.

And the voice. The voice that haunted her before was already back.

But the memory.

She understood that she was a yaga, that she couldn't hide from the Night. That no one could. She understood that the she wasn't of the Day, of the Light.

That was alright. What wasn't alright was letting Hans inside her head, letting her feel her emotions and think her thoughts.

"What. Did. You. See."

"The day you let me go."

She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing exactly the day he meant. And, all things considered, she may have been glad he saw it.

Because then he could finally understand the hurt he'd caused.

It had been a year since she had been enlisted in Olga's service, and her life had become an endless cycle of chores and nightmares. She had still watched after her former best friend in the village, watched him shoot arrows and joke around with other boys. Watched his eyes and how the light in them from when before their parents died never reappeared.

She was still holding out for him, waiting for him. She missed him.

And maybe, she had considered, he missed her too.

Which was what had led her to standing next to him that one Festival in hopes that he would talk to her, leading to her being mocked by Hans and his friends. Witch-girl, they had called her. Yaga-marked, Ancestors-cursed, bastard child, scummy, dirty little witch-girl. They had tossed dirt in her face, made intentional messes for her to clean up. Sprinkled iron shavings over her head and laughed when she brushed them off.

She had cried in the shadows that night, staying awake from sadness rather than nightmares and extra work.

She had thought he would be different. And he wasn't. So she let all hope for him go.

"I'm sorry for that, 'Rina. I didn't realize--"

"How much the words could hurt? How much you could hurt?" Karina accused. He dipped his head.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, "I didn't know how much a fake version of me could hurt."

"Sorry won't cut it," she said. "You could have been there. But you weren't. And saying sorry now doesn't change the past." He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him. "Change the future instead."

Hi, everyone!

This chapter here ends up Part 3! What did you think of Hans's transformation and Karina's reaction to it? Comment below! Also, any improvements to suggest? Be sure to comment those below, and remember to vote if you enjoyed the chapter!

Bye! See you next week!

Edited 5/21/16 to add in the voice.