— the animals, plants, dawn, day and night. And anyone who wants to needlessly 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵 that often makes a 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 warning for any other brats that want to try the same. Or a great meal, depending on how much meat they have on their bones."

The owl chitters again, and this time Baba allows it.

— loud laugh-like hoot interrupts them, and Baba Yaga tears her eyes away from her boiling pot to give it a look. "You're trying so hard. Catch your own food."

The owl turns its head with a rumbling sound, and then, the old crone turns her attention back to Morgen.

⠀ "I'm very happy here with —

WHAAAAT noooo 🥺😇 ))

— call me Baba." She turns to take Morgen's hand in both of her own, give it a small pat, and let go again to shuffle to the stove. A dual-eyed black cat stares the stranger down from across the room.

⠀ "Take a seat wherever you'd like, and mind the animals!"

— and other flora hung to dry on the walls. It isn't unusual for women to keep medicinal herbs, or for peasants to live with their farm animals, but certainly not owls, magpies and...geese-swans? Whatever those strange hybrid birds are.

⠀ "The folks around here call me Baba Yaga, but you can just —

There's a wave of her hand, and a warm gust of air pushes Boreas aside. At the same time, a group of tall trees begin to move. Their bark cracks every time they move, and their branches engulf him to push him out of the clearing. An annoyed huff.

⠀ "Kids these days... All brats..."

⠀ "It's just a simple smell, like any other."

— on the inside than the outside.

⠀ "What's your name, deary?"

— planks on the front wall unfurl, making a ramp for them to climb. She walks up it, expecting Morgen to follow, and once both are past the threshold it closes behind them, revealing a door behind them that wasn't visible from the outside. Though the house only has a single room, it's much larger—