Page 32

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

T he hut really did have chicken legs—they were each as long and thick as a good-sized tree trunk and the chicken feet attached to them were as big as compact cars.

If you think regular chicken legs and feet are kind of gross, you ought to see them scaled up about a thousand times—it was truly a strange and disgusting sight.

“Chicken legs,” I said again, still disbelieving my eyes.

“Like I said before, haven’t you ever read any fairy tales?” Rath shot me a grin. “Everyone knows Baba Yaga lives in a hut that walks around on chicken legs. Come on—it looks like we’re staying here for the night.”

He walked fearlessly towards the hut as he spoke and I followed him, only hanging back a little because the whole situation was so weird. But if Rath wasn’t afraid, I shouldn’t be either, I told myself.

As soon as we got up to the hut—which was about eight feet off the ground—it squatted down, its knees bending backwards like a bird’s. This put it only two feet from the ground and the front door opened invitingly.

“Here—let me help you up.” Rath lifted me by the waist and placed me just inside the door. Then he stepped up himself, which he was able to do because of his long legs.

The door closed behind us and the hut rose again and began to move.

“Whoa! Where are we going?” I put out my hands to balance myself. The hut was rocking like a boat on the sea—it was very disorientating.

“Probably to wherever Baba Yaga is,” Rath remarked. “Hopefully it won’t take long to get there. Here—do you want to sit down?”

He pointed at a large, overstuffed couch at one end of the cabin. It was built for someone his size, I noted—the leather cushions would probably swallow me up if I sat on it.

I sat down anyway—the swaying motion was making me feel seasick. I struggled out of my heavy winter coat because I suddenly felt overheated. Then, closing my eyes I took some deep breaths to keep from getting nauseous. I was glad I hadn’t eaten much for breakfast—which seemed like a long time ago.

Luckily, the trip didn’t take long. Almost before I knew it, the hut stopped moving and then seemed to settle itself in place.

“It’s okay—I think it’s nesting for the night,” I heard Rath say.

I opened my eyes.

“Nesting for the night? But it’s barely past lunch time.”

“Time moves differently in Baba Yaga’s realm,” Rath explained. “Look out the windows—it’s getting dark.”

I looked and saw that he was right—the window closest to me showed a winter forest wrapped in the soft gloom of twilight. So apparently we really were spending the night here.

I had a sudden worried thought.

“Hey—this isn’t one of those sci-fi scenarios where a day over here is like a year in the real world, is it?” I asked Rath. I was thinking of Sebastian and how upset he would be if I left him alone for so long.

“Nah—nothing that extreme.” He shook his head and then looked down at himself. “Hey—I’m going to clean up some—I’m a fucking mess. And after that, maybe we can look and see what there is to eat.”

“I packed some crackers and cheese,” I offered. Now that the house had stopped swaying, I no longer felt sick to my stomach. In fact, I was beginning to be quite hungry.

“I packed a few things too,” Rath said. “But check the pantry and the cupboards—we should use anything that Baba Yaga has left for us, so it doesn’t seem like we’re disrespecting her hospitality.”

“Oh—okay, I will.” I nodded, hoping that she hadn’t left us anything gross like a can of spiders or a bunch of wriggling worms. What did all-powerful witches eat…or expect their guests to eat? I guessed I would find out. It would also give me a chance to explore a little.

As Rath disappeared into the bathroom, I got off the couch with some difficulty—the leather cushions really were deep—and went exploring.

You might expect the inside of a chicken-legged hut owned by an ancient, super-powerful witch to be rustic and rough around the edges. But actually, it looked like any cabin you might rent on Airbnb.

There was wood paneling, but it was tastefully done and it didn’t look cheap. The main living area consisted of the big couch and across from it was a large stone fireplace with logs already stacked in the grate.

Leaving the room, I opened a door which led into a bedroom with a large, four-poster bed.

The bed had an elaborately carved headboard and a thick mattress covered in what looked like a handmade quilt.

Hmm, so maybe Baba Yaga was crafty, like my Grandma had been, I speculated. There were plenty of pillows, too.

I left the bedroom and found my way to the kitchen, which had a table in one corner just big enough for two. All the appliances were extremely modern and up to date—no wood burning stove in here. Instead there was a flat-topped stove with a convection oven. Nice.

Looking in the cabinets, I saw a lot of different spices, but no canned spiders or any other creepy-crawlies, thank goodness.

There was a can of baked beans. I stared at it doubtfully—did we have to incorporate that into our evening meal?

Because I wasn’t really fond of baked beans. Maybe Rath liked them.

I put the can on the counter just in case and then went to look in the state-of-the-art, stainless-steel refrigerator.

Inside I found the thickest steak I had ever seen.

Seriously—it was enormous and it looked really juicy.

There were fresh herbs and stuff for a salad too—but no salad dressing.

Also some butter, which would probably come in handy.

Looking in the pantry revealed some large potatoes and a few other fixings, including oil and vinegar and some garlic bulbs. Okay—now I knew what I was going to make.

I got started with the potatoes—I washed them and poked them and then rubbed them with oil and sprinkled them with salt. I put them in the oven to bake, even though there was a microwave handy. Baked potatoes just taste better when they’re baked in the oven—it makes their skin nice and crispy.

Then I got out the steak and let it sit on a plate on the counter to get closer to room temperature while I made the salad.

I got it all together in a bowl and then mixed a little oil and vinegar dressing to toss with the lettuce and other veggies right before I served it.

I put all that back in the fridge, and then turned my attention to the steak.

Looking in one of the bottom cupboards, I found just what I needed—a huge, heavy, cast-iron frying pan.

It was so big I had to lift it with both hands and I placed it on the flat topped stove carefully, mindful not to crack the glass.

I certainly didn’t want to be accused of breaking anything in the house of such a powerful witch!

I had always wanted to try that steak preparation you see all over social media—you know, where you get the pan ripping hot, sear the steak, and then baste it in butter and fresh herbs? I must have watched vids like that over a hundred times—now I got a chance to try it out.

For my first-time cooking steak that way, I thought it went pretty well. When I finished, I let the steak rest and checked the potatoes. They were almost done—perfect!

I was setting the table when Rath wandered into the kitchen.

He was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else except a towel around his neck.

His long, thick black hair was damp and the cuts and wounds on his skin were already almost healed.

Orcs must be magically fast healers, I thought.

No wonder he hadn’t been worried about the bites from the Hydra.

I told myself I was just making sure he was okay, but I can’t lie—my eyes kept dropping from his muscular torso to the crotch of the sweatpants.

Was that real? The equipment I could see dangling down the inside of his thigh looked absolutely enormous .

It shouldn’t have been surprising, considering the rest of him was so big but still…

“It smells fucking amazing in here,” Rath remarked, lifting his nose to sniff the air.

I snapped my eyes back up to his face. Thankfully he didn’t seem to have noticed my interest in his package.

“Uh, thanks.” I smiled at him. “I used what Baba Yaga left for us. So we’re having salad, steak, and baked potatoes—I hope that works for you,” I added anxiously. “I mean, you’re not a vegetarian or Vegan or anything, are you?”

He rumbled laughter.

“Hardly. I didn’t mean for you to have to make supper, but I’m happy you did. Thanks for cooking.”

I blushed.

“It’s no trouble. I like cooking. It’s cleaning up afterwards I don’t love.”

“Then I’ll wash the dishes after we eat,” he offered. “It’s only fair.”

“Works for me.” I gestured at the table. “Have a seat—the baked potatoes are almost done.”

We both ate hungrily, though I probably ate less than I usually would. I was nervous at the idea of spending the night with the big Orc.

I was hoping something romantic would happen—I still felt incredibly drawn to him in a way I had never felt with any other guy.

But I couldn’t help remembering what a disaster the night before had been after I drank the purple potion and told him my sad dating history.

Possibly I had turned him off of wanting to be with me—I wouldn’t blame him if that was the case.

After we finished supper, we cleared the table and washed the dishes. Well, Rath did, anyway. I tried to help but he shook his head.

“No—you go sit down. I made up the fire before I came back here, so it should be nice and warm. Why don’t you relax on the couch and take it easy?”

“I really don’t mind helping, though,” I protested, wanting to be near him.

But Rath was firm.

“No, you need to rest. After the magic you did today, you’re bound to be tired.”

I did feel kind of fatigued but I had put that down to hiking through a blizzard, fighting a Hydra, and cooking supper. I hadn’t thought about the fact that doing magic might take a physical toll on me, but I guessed it made sense.