I flushed, embarrassed to admit that I hadn’t even known which way the saddle was supposed to go. It was strange how all my skills were, in some ways, useless out here. Instead of relying on candles handcrafted from deer tallow and beeswax, people had lights they could turn on with the flick of a switch. And although I had practiced firing the musket until it took me less than thirty seconds to prime and reload it, how could that ever compare to artillery capable of firing hundreds of rounds a minute?

It didn’t matter how many books I had salvaged from the homes and trenches, poring over the water-stained pages until the bindings disintegrated in my hands. Nothing could have prepared me for this.

We returned to Vanya’s apartment and lingered only long enough to retrieve the supplies we had prepared the night before. I tied my bedroll and knapsack to the back of the saddle, slid my musket into a leather scabbard Vanya attached to the tack, and set off beside him and Mikhail.

As we rode through Kupalo, I trailed behind, observing the wreckage. Although many broken windows already had boards nailed over them, there was still so much rubble piled in the street. Splintered timber, loose bricks, and fallen shingles. It was hard to imagine how so much destruction could have been wrought in a single day.

The fog intensified once we entered the forests surrounding Kupalo, as if in some way the town’s stone walls and iron fences had been the dam that kept the mist at bay. As we passed through a birch thicket, I thought I saw a beautiful nude woman stalking us from tree to tree, and asked Mikhail if he had seen her, too.

“That’s a mavka,” he said, staring straight ahead. “Don’t look at her directly, and she won’t harm you.”

“You’re lucky, Toma,” Vanya said. “The forest spirits only tickle men.”

“Did you say tickle?” I asked, certain I had misheard him.

He glanced back, grinning. “That’s how they kill you. A pleasant death, if you ask me. Wouldn’t you agree, Mikhail?”

“Not really,” Mikhail said dryly.

“Ah, too feminine for your tastes?”

Cheeks reddening, Mikhail sputtered for a response. “What—what exactly are you trying to imply, Ivan?”

“Nothing at all, Tsarushka,” Vanya purred, before turning back ahead.

Against my better judgment, I looked into the forest once more, unable to resist taking another glance at the strange and fascinating creature. I only caught a glimpse of the mavka this time, staring at me with eyes as green as Vanya’s. Twigs, cocoons, and clumps of moss were trapped in her untamed black curls.

Her very presence radiated a fierce and uncontrollable power, so palpable that I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of awe as I met her gaze. She smiled, displaying rotting brown teeth, and then turned from me. As she retreated into the dappled shadows, she revealed a flayed back like a broken vase. Her spine and ribs were exposed, as pale as the birch branches surrounding us. There was nothing left inside of her.