Дмитрий Мансуров - Invasion

It was exciting but not what Kashchey needed.

“Maria! Come back and forgive me!” Kashchey called. His lonely voice echoed in a deserted castle. The words, in turn, echoed off the walls and raced into the distance in numerous repetitions. “I’m leaving! Those who are hiding have only themselves to blame!”

Silence.

“I’ll repeat for the deaf!” he shouted so loudly that bits of petrified dust fell from the walls. “I’m leaving!”

Leaving! Leaving! …ing. …ing.

The echo made Kashchey frown.

“As you wish!” he waved his hand. “In a month, my castle will get its very own ghost. We shall pass the centuries with the ghost of the princess, reminiscing about the old glorious days and scaring lone travelers on warm moonless nights… Oh, to hell with you.” It’s time to save that crazy lady while she still hadn’t turned into a walking mummy. He’d never be able to prove his good intentions afterward.

“The wood goblin is listening!” the voice replied reluctantly right from the plate situated across the wood goblin’s portrait. He seemed to be in a bad mood. “What happened? Who are you planning to roast this time?”

“The fox spent the night in my cage and refused to leave,” Yaga complained. “She must be depressed.”

“I’m also depressed,” the wood goblin pointed out. “Ask the fox if she has some additional space in your cage. We can howl from anguish together.”

“Not in my hut, you can’t. Go to the clearing and howl all you want. What’s the matter with you?”

“Never mind,” the goblin sighed. “What is this about?”

“I need a dog,” Yaga explained.

“No poaching!”

“Me? Poaching?” Baba Yaga nearly choked on the little air she consumed. “Are you out of your mind?!”

Goblin cleared his throat.

“Sorry, my nerves are getting the better of me.” His apologetic voice warmed slightly, but with its generally icy tone, the temperature rose from two hundred and two degrees below zero to two hundred and one. “It’s just that there are vandals in my forest! Barbarians! Monsters!”

“All at once or separately?” Yaga asked.

“Are you joking?”

“What have they done?”

“Look at it!” the plate finally brightened and produced an image that made Yaga’s hair stood on end — or it would stand on end if not for the kerchief on her head. “Well?”

“Who did this?” Yaga asked, her heart frozen from the terrible premonition. The speed with which she had to devise the new formula to create a were-being depended on this answer.

“The survivors say that a dog did it… by the way, is it by any chance the one you’re asking about?”

“Not at all,” Yaga waved her hands. “My doggie is peaceful. It won’t lay a paw on anyone. And here it looks like a three-headed Cerberus has paid you a visit. You should check with the authorities. Maybe he has actually escaped?”

“I’ve already asked them,” the wood goblin said, frowning. “They politely hinted to me that if he had escaped, the planet would be up to its ears in the ghosts of the ancient Greeks. So, what’s up with your dog?”

“The mongrel. A quiet, timid thing. It gets scared in the woods if it’s off the leash. And with the leash, just give him someone to bark at and he’ll fall all over himself in excitement! Yesterday, he escaped from the yard and disappeared. He is extremely important to me.”

“I’ll walk through the woods and see if I can find your fugitive. Do you need it urgently?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Well, I can’t promise it’ll happen that soon, but I’ll try,” the goblin said. “Meanwhile, do you want me to lend you a wolf for a day? Can he help?”

“Which of the two?” Yaga clarified. “A one-eyed cyclops with no tail or that other one with lacerations all over his back?”

“Yeah…” the wood goblin sighed. “When I find out who did that, I’ll skin them myself!”

“Better bury these ones and get new wolves. In the southern forests, there is an abundance of them. So help them out with overpopulation.”

“Deal,” the goblin nodded. “I’ll contact you soon.”

“See you.”

The plate darkened.

Yaga began to think. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t find a way to carry out the kidnapping elegantly and gracefully. And the dog! Did he have bloodthirsty dinosaurs in his family? To destroy a swarm of angry and hungry wolves. Normal animals couldn’t do it. So much for hypnotizing peaceful mongrels!

She’d have to work on her own, then. She had to ignore her mind-control abilities and return to the old rude but effective method. The vampires were close, and there was almost no time left. They could attack any day now, and there was nothing she could do to oppose them yet.

“Stupid, stupid fox,” Yaga muttered reproachfully. “If you only knew that soon, because of your antics, there will be no one to raise the chickens. Only chicken vampires will be running around. Though that would be one interesting view…”

The culprit that caused Yaga such a vicious headache was wandering through the forest, talking to all who would listen, which meant, in essence, that she was talking to herself. After escaping from Yaga safely, the fox calmed down and even remembered what enjoying life felt like, but now hunger was reminding her of its presence again.

“It seems like everyone’s already been eaten,” she muttered. “By whom? Who is this greedy glutton?”

The sparrows looked at her from the tree branches they were sitting on.

“If you have no luck hunting, you’ll have good luck in sticking to a diet!” one of them said.

The fox looked up. The sparrows were right. Well-fed and plump. Hundreds of them were perched on a huge oak tree, noisily discussing the fresh gossip. Suddenly, she was overcome with the desire to be rude. Maybe it’d help her feel better? But there were so many birds… These parasites could make a mess so fast that she wouldn’t have time to even blink, especially considering their sheer number. A peaceful chat it was.

“This one’s talking about a diet, too,” she grumbled. “Fools. Being fat is more fun. When there’s just skin and bones, there’s nothing to gnaw at.”

“The lighter we are, the higher we fly!” the sparrows said.

“Yeah,” the fox agreed. With this diet, she, too, would start flying soon. If the wind blew any harder, she’d go up the air for sure. “I, for once, want to stand on my feet! I have no wings.”

“So what’s stopping you?” the sparrows looked surprised. “There’s an oak, there are some acorns. The boars go there frequently. Catch one, eat them, and stay on your feet until they break under your weight.”

Well. That was actually a great idea! She could set up a trap!

The fox rushed to collect the acorns in a pile. She had to attract the attention of a small boar and then catch him or her while the mother pigs were munching on acorns. The main thing was to avoid catching their eye, but the fox was pretty confident in her abilities to be stealthy. She had to run at extreme speeds so often that the probability of another run did not scare her any longer. Big deal, embarking on yet another run.

A bully with a skull on his head sat on a tree with other sparrows, peering at her. Then he chirped ominously, “Hey-a-a-a-a-a-a-a! I’m a horror flying on the wings of a zombie!”

The sparrows turned their heads toward the bully.

“Zombies, zombies, zombies!” he chirped again threateningly.

The sparrows squeaked in surprise. Then they began to faint one by one. The fox had just pushed another acorn to a big pile when a brown, soft lump fell right onto her head, bounced off it and flopped into the grass. Just in case, she jumped back and warily looked at the sparrow that was lying with his feet up.