“How’s she doing?” Oleg was oblivious of the women’s meeting.
Nikolai was still intent on the cow. He shook his head. “Perhaps I can turn it, but it’s dangerous. You could lose cow and calf.”
Oleg grunted. “What choice is there?”
“Perhaps... ” the songbird voice hesitated. Both men turned to hear. “Perhaps if you gave the Dvorovoi a present he would help..” Her eyes brimmed with simple innocence. Had they been brown, Magda thought, they would have been just like the cow’s.
She waved a hand at the girl. “I attend to the household spirits every day.”
Anya bowed her head. “Forgive me, Aunt, but I couldn’t help noticing--there is nothing shiny on the Dvorovoi’s shrine. Mother taught me that the yard spirit likes shiny things--and this is an emergency.”
Magda snorted. “Forest folk! So superstitious you jump at your own shadows.”
Oleg grabbed Magda’s arm. “Give it your comb.”
Magda’s hand flew up to protect it. “No!” Oleg squeezed until Magda winced. “It’s the only beautiful thing I have. Your wedding present to me.” She turned a look of appeal on Nikolai.
Anya spoke up. “It has to be something precious, Aunt, otherwise the Dvorovoi will be offended.”
Nikolai nodded. “It can’t hurt.”
Magda stiffened. “Very well. Anya must come with me then.”
She hardly allowed the girl’s feet to touch the ground as they approached the Dvorovoi’s shrine in the corner of the yard. There were some drooping flowers and the mouldy remains of the burned loaf Magda had given the spirit knowing no one could eat it. Anya cleared away the debris and knelt with hands clasped in front of her, waiting for Magda to do the same. Magda ran a finger along the design on the comb.
“Aunt?” Anya prompted. “Shall I?”
Magda handed her the comb and she placed it in the centre of the shrine.
“Tsar Dvorovoi, little father, accept this gift as a sign of our gratitude for your past care, and help us now. Help us turn the calf, and keep mother and baby well.”
There was a stillness as she spoke, the restless skirling of dust in the yard ceased. Magda felt sweat prickling the back of her neck. Still Anya sat with head bowed. Magda’s knees began to ache. There was an animal bellow of pain and effort from the barn. Anya sat up with a smile.
“Thank you, little master.”
Magda’s cynical reprimand was never spoken. Oleg ran from the barn waving his arms to communicate what he was too excited to say.
“He’s done it! Come and see.”
Anya hurried forward.
“Anya!” Magda stopped her.
“Yes, Anya.” Oleg wiped his face with a kerchief. The twin lines between Magda’s eyes deepened. “Yes, Anya. You played your part too. This is a good omen. The Dvorovoi must like you.”
Magda cleared her throat. “It was my comb, Oleg.”
“You shall have another,” Oleg promised, with a smile as wide as the open barn door. “This is worth a celebration--a new calf and a new addition to the household. What do you say, Niko? You must have supper with us and celebrate.”
“Thank you,” Nikolai said. “I’d like that.”
Magda’s quick flash of joy drained as she realized that Niko’s words had been spoken with his gaze on Anya as she helped him clean the calf. Now, his eyes reminded Magda of the cow’s too.
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