As her boot slipped to the ground, Dronov laughed. He sounded even closer than before, the noise of his approach echoing off the gully’s high walls. Twigs snapped beneath his heavy tread. Closer, closer. I edged for the cover of the bushes cradling the edge of the gully and pressed my body down to conceal myself, knowing that if I ran now, he’d be relentless in his pursuit.

Undisturbed by his approach, the mavka slipped on the Otzvuk uniform jacket. She traced her fingertips along the ornamental cords draped from shoulder to chest.

“Please, he’ll kill me,” I begged, and this time her gaze returned to me. A strange light entered her eyes, and her brow furrowed. For the first time since she’d emerged from the underbrush, I sensed she was truly seeing me.

At the other end of the gully, Dronov stepped from between the trees. His eyes landed on the mavka, and he reacted in an instant, lunging toward her with a wild cry. “Otzvuk pig!”

She turned to face him, and the rage in his eyes snuffed out in an instant, his thin lips drawing back in shock or horror. The axe swerved off-course; she caught the weapon by the handle on its way down and held it steady.

Swearing and panting, Dronov tried yanking the axe free of her grip. When that failed, he stumbled back and reached for the service pistol on his belt.

I watched, transfixed, as the mavka hooked her hand under his armpit as if she meant to wrench his arm free from its socket. Instead, her fingers riffled along his side. A spasm racked Dronov’s body, the tremor so violent that it sent the pistol slipping from his fingers. He collapsed to the ground, twisting and turning as she crouched over him and brought her other hand up along his side.

Then he began to laugh—deep, guffawing bursts that shook his entire frame.

Vanya’s words echoed in my head: The forest spirits only tickle men. A pleasant death, if you ask me.

Dronov writhed on the ground, his body trembling in the force of his hysterical laughter. By the second, his face grew redder, flushed with blood until it was nearly purple. His gaze landed on me, and he reached out a hand, still guffawing uncontrollably.

“Girl—” another burst of laughter twisted his spine “—kill it.”

Slowly, I rose to my feet and approached him.

Tears glistened down his cheeks, tinted pink in the glow of the rising sun. A film of blood spread across his left eye, and ruby pinpricks dotted his cheeks and nose. He was laughing with such force, the vessels beneath his skin had burst.

“Please, it’s a monster,” Dronov gasped, his face contorting in agony even as a rictus of a grin stretched across his lips.

“No,” I said, and retrieved his pistol from the ground. “You are.”

As I turned to leave, he screamed after me, punctuating each laugh with vile curses. I found stable footing in the roots and crevices lining the gully’s wall and began to climb. By the time I reached the top, I could no longer tell whether he was laughing or sobbing.