"Oh, ancestors dear,

Hold us tight and near,

Keep watch in the night,

And help us fight,

Against yagas and others

Evils galore,

Oh, ancestors dear,

To you we implore."

Karina watched the last trills of the safesong from the back of the crowd. All of the eligible girls and boys were gathered on the stage, which had previously been a gallows, to sing the Ancestor's rejuvenation ritual songs. 

All of them except her, that is.

Karina watched in envy as Gertie and Helga pranced off of the stage, their arms entwined with two boys'. Helga was in thick conversation with Hans Pinkerton, the undisgraced son of the accused warlock, and Gertie was coyly batting her eyelashes at one of Hans's friends while sneaking glances at the fellow himself. Hans was nothing if not eligible, despite his just-as-questionable past.

He wasn't yaga-marked, though. He didn't have an ugly birthmark that stretched across half of his face. And he still had a mother and two brothers to vouch for him and his goodness.

Karina had no one.

No, not true. She had Lilith, a doll who would aid her whenever she could. Karina slipped her hand in her pocket for the odd comfort that the doll gave her before going a bit ways off the help with Feast preparations.

The sun was lowering in the sky and preparing to dip beneath the horizon. Karina walked over to the fire pits where grandmothers and young girls were cooking the meat the men and their sons had hunted for the Feast just that week. The men hunted meat like thick-pelted bear and ruffled-feather geese, passing the arrow and the knife among the generations. The cooking was the female form of the same tradition, a passing of the ladle from generation to generation.

It was also rather exclusive in Karina's opinion.

Karina watched a girl and her grandmother sip broth and moan in appreciation of their own cooking. It must have been nearly done, and thank the Ancestors; they had to bless the Feast at the exact moment dusk fell over their world. 

Karina found the already arranged and created food and heaved a platter of what looked like a roasted bird up to carry it to the center of the village, where the Feast was being held. As she walked, she hummed the safesong under her breath and tried to ignore the resentment that boiled in her gut. She should have been singing that. The only reason that Gertie and Helga had any serious suitors was because of her stitching on their clothes that made them look like good seamstresses and homemakers.

Karina carefully lay the platter onto the splintery wooden table. There were multiple tables that lay around the village center, in the middle of which was a fire pit that would be lit at dusk.

Karina continued her task of bringing food to the tables as the sun shrank even more and the square began to fill up. Once the food was all set up, she picked up a broom and began to sweep the empty cooking area. 

"Karina."

Olga. Karina stared at the dirt that coated her too-small boots. 

"You are needed to serve at the Feast."

Karina's head gave a slight nod. 

"Speak to me! Yaga-marked wench." Olga's thick fingers grabbed Karina's chin, forcing the servant to look into her violet eyes. Olga was a seer; she was special. 

And Karina was not. The only ways she could ever be considered special were through the things she was hated for and the things nobody knew about.

Karina's fingers twitched, but she made sure not to show any other signs of weakness. She was stone; she was stronger than anything and everything. 

It wasn't like she ever said anything that wasn't to Lilith, anyways. The villagers weren't worth her words. She'd been playing mute for eight years. 

Despite herself, Karina's mouth twisted into a smile. Olga shoved her back, and Karina stumbled and fell.

Olga's plump lips suppressed a smile. "Get going, Karina." Karina did as told, running towards the Feast with faltering steps, running away from the fat Oracle who had forced her into servitude.

Karina calmed down, making her breaths even. Calm. She had to be calm. It was Ancestor's Day after all! Her parents were honored this day. 

Even if not by the villagers.

She retreated to the shadows, ready to serve. 

The sun was nearly beneath the horizon. Duras, a short, reedy man who spoke in a high-pitched Lisserian accent, stood before the fire pit, addressing the Moracians who sat on the benches by the long tables. The sight of the instigator of her parents' deaths made her hands curl into fists. You are stone. You are unmoving. Smile, Karina.

And she smiled. She smiled as brightly as the sun as Duras blessed the crowd for coming, as he reminded them about the safesongs they should sign before going to bed, as he told all of them that yagas were dangerous and were not ancestors and that they would hear announcements on the village after the Feast. Her face stretched and tightened uncomfortably with every phrase, but she was stone, and she could not let him get to her.

The sun finally finished setting as Duras finished his speech and was handed a torch to light the bonfire. Karina shivered as the sparks sprayed and the fire flickered, and a cold drenched her bones from inside out at the sight. "Ancestors, lower your spirits to keep us safe throughout the night!" Duras bellowed. And Karina felt colder and colder, like she was freezing despite the springtime heat. And her eyes began to burn with tears, and her heart was beating at a breakneck speed. And she was overcome with hatred, cold-and-hot hatred, for this Lisserian yaga hunter. Witch killer.

Mother murderer.

The sky rolled and groaned with thunder. Mother, you always said to use logic, to not feel. Mother, why do I keep feeling things? Mother? Hello, can you hear me? Mother, I want them to burn.

Her vision blurred red.

The flames shook violently before being extinguished.

I just am scared of the fire.

Silence blanketed Moracia. Helga stepped forward, her arm still looped in Hans's. "I have an announcement." Her pink lips smiled like nothing had happened, but her hazel eyes were wet with false tears. Liar. That's all she is.

"We have a yaga in our midst."

The Moracians gasped. Olga's painted-on features looked proud. Helga tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. Hans and Duras both looked unperturbed.

"She is what caused this event. I caught her earlier, talking to a doll and ordering it what to do. It was a moving, talking doll."

Karina's stomach rolled.

"I planned to announce it at announcements tonight, but it appears that a yaga must have stopped our glorious communion with the Ancestors."

Karina's fingers trembled.

"Karina Hedge. Come forward."

Against her own will, she stumbled forward a few steps.

"May I please see your doll." It wasn't a question. It was an order.

Karina stuffed her hand in her pocket to protect Lilith.

"Olga, help me here. Get iron." 

Olga stiffened at being addressed in such a way by her daughter but did as told, branching away from the feast to the courthouse-jail. She returned ten minutes later with iron cuffs that she quickly passed to Helga.

"I found them...the iron shavings at each entrance are completely blown apart. Aren't they supposed to be bound by the spirits?" Duras nodded gravely.

"I believe that we do indeed have a yaga here, Miss Helga. It does make sense. Her mother was scum, her face is marked, so why shouldn't she be?" His words were scathing, burning. She wasn't a yaga. She wasn't scum, and her mother hadn't been either.

"Your doll."

Karina froze. It was him, his stupid "witch-hunting" self addressing her. She couldn't, wouldn't speak.

"Duras, are you sure that that thing did all this? Really?" It was Hans, whose own father had been sentenced to die for false magick. The words were icy and painful, a knife that twisted a little farther in her chest every time he got something she didn't. Every time he refused to look at her, or glared at her. Every time he called her "greenshoot", every time she wasn't a human. Just a thing.

This was her life. She had to speak for it.

"I didn't do it. And I am not a thing, as you call me, or a slave, as you treat me. I am a girl who works hard and who has been cursed by the Ancestors to live a tragic life. And for all you know, this could have been a warning from the Ancestors. Maybe about crops. Maybe about plague. Maybe about how our own lives will change. Maybe about how you shouldn't kill!" Her own words startled her. All of the Moracians wore expressions of shock and. Had she, the mute girl, really spoken? Really been noticed for it?

Helga twirled a golden lock of hair about her finger and handed the iron cuffs to Hans, who winced at the added weight.

"Yes, but we kill to protect ourselves. And you, you are the eventuality that we need to protect ourselves from." Helga threw a look at Duras. "Let us relight the bonfire, cuff Karina in iron just in case, and continue our Feast through prayer and ritual."

Duras paused. "Yes. Let's."  He glanced at the golden-haired boy that was holding Helga. "And you, Hans, should do it. Pray that you don't find need to let the thing run free from justice!" The Moracians laughed, and Hans's face burned. For a mere moment, Karina pitied the fool.

"I'm not a yaga," she said as Hans cuffed her wrists with burning iron and led her away.

I know, I know. Late update. I'm sorry! Keeping up with midterms, schoolwork AND two Wattpad stories is a lot of work! But I hope this update was to your satisfaction? If it was, please click that little gold star in the corner and write me a comment about what you enjoyed to show your appreciation! If you didn't, explain why and what I could improve upon. I love hearing what you guys think, and I love it even more when what you think helps me become a better writer. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

Edited 4/12/16--Deplore changed to implore

Edited 7/25/16--Warlock changed to accused warlock.

Closed for Wattpad Edits on 10/28/16