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Once the initial shock of being attacked by Beasts had passed, the women of the village were surprisingly amenable to their presence. Maybe it was because they’d been surrounded by human beasts their entire lives; but I watched one woman wash the wounds of a Beast without flinching. Her hair was bright under the sun, something this village had rarely seen before.
They would all be okay in the end. Maybe some would hate me for destroying their home and uprooting them; that was a hatred I was willing to bear.
It was the happiness of those who could take off their veils and understand that they now belonged to no one but themselves that made it worth it, even if it would be years of work before this was all just a distant memory.
I moved from house to house, salvaging what goods I could. They would be sent with those who wanted to head south instead of staying with us. In one untouched cellar, I found jars of jam and pickled vegetables. In another house that hadn’t burned, I found two corpses: one of the men had elected to kill his wife and then himself rather than allow her to go free.
With deep sadness, I closed that door.
Some of the men who had been given mercy were with their wives and daughters now, already preparing to leave the Wood forever. There were so few of them, but some had spoken out during the judgment. Most of them I recognized as decent men, the rarity of Vostok.
It took us days to finish what we had started.
The survivors who wanted to leave went before the first snows began. After that, we tore down the stones and carefully burned what remained of the houses.
By the time the first snow fell, covering everything, there were little signs left than anything had ever existed here at all. I pulled my cloak tight around myself, my feet warm in fur boots that Gran had embroidered with scarlet thread.
“By spring, no one will ever know it was here,” Gran said, leaning on her cane. Freya stood beside her, wrinkling her nose as she looked at the village we had leveled.
“Good,” she said in a low voice. “It was all a nightmare. I’m glad it's gone.”
We turned and headed back towards the Arbor, a long walk during which I would harvest more herbs. Now that the Augur was dead, it fell to me to become the herbalist for the village.
The Arbor had more than enough room for all of us. Only single and widowed women had come with us; Gran had no problem with smacking a Beast with a spoon if he tried to dip into the cook pot too soon. She sewed tirelessly, ensuring all the women were as warmly dressed in their clothes as their beaus were in their fur.
I looked overhead and saw a brilliant flash of red in the trees. A crimson cardinal watched us pass, its little black eyes bright; I smiled.
The open wound that was Vostok was gone, and the blood of the woman of stone and bone had been returned to her rightful place. The Wood was back in balance; by next spring, other birds would arrive. We would have fish in the stream, and be able to walk the woods without fear.
The sound of laughter reached us before we stepped into the Arbor’s clearing. Women were already fixing up their knotholes to look like houses of their own. The colors red and purple were extremely popular. When they’d discovered the storehouses where the Beasts kept things like paint, the excitement had been palpable.
I passed a knothole that been painted nearly black, covered with flecks that were thousands of tiny stars. Another woman had painted hers with flowers.
It was an explosion of colors, and there were always Beasts flooding in and out of the Arbor, bearing fresh kills to present as gifts. Hopefuls tended to lurk by knotholes, sometimes with new presents of beads or paint they’d scavenged from the caravans.
Many of the Beasts had taken to wearing armbands and sashes embroidered by their chosen mates. Freya’s in particular had taken to showing off his ‘clothes’.
Everyone was slowly allowing themselves out of their blue and white shells. Letting themselves experience sun and color. Learning what they liked, instead of what they were told to like.
Spring was coming.
Slowly but surely, the women of the Wood were waking up.
Epilogue
After three long years,nothing remained of the village.
I strode through the grass, barely able to make out the cobblestones beneath. A fallen branch might once have been a rafter beam; I didn’t care to look any closer.
Vostok was long gone.
Freya walked with me, her long auburn hair flying behind her and glittering with red gems. “Have they been driving you mad, too?”
I cupped the swell of my stomach. The Arbor was thriving, the women having carved out a place for themselves. I had finally decided the time had come.
My pups would be due in the winter, and my Beasts had not stopped nesting since they’d smelled my first missed cycle. We’d carved out our home even further, making room for unruly children. I’d painted the walls in red and green and violet, painting flocks of crows across the ceiling.
Freya’s first pups were due any time, and her Beast had not failed to go out hunting for a single day. We’d already decided we’d raise our children together, as a loving village. They would never know a day of hunger or hatred.
