FOUR

Koschei’s life on the island was quite splendid. Food was abundant: the forest provided a scrumptious vegetarian diet, and whenever he had a craving for some nice roast meat, Koschei could cut off a bit off himself and then heal it in the spring. Sometimes the animals he had befriended offered him their flesh, too, and it made for a nice change of pace, but he never asked first.

His shelter beneath an oak branch was quite comfortable, but one night it rained, and Koschei was soaked to the bone marrow. In the morning, he settled that it was time to start building something permanent. He had never built anything in his life before, and things weren’t going great until a friendly hare approached him, carrying a saw.

“Are you trying to build a house?”

“I am, but it’s turning out bad.”

“I’m a carpenter, and I’ll help you out,” she said. “But you have to promise that your dwelling will always be open to the other inhabitants of this island, though the majority of us prefer to sleep in burrows.”

Koschei agreed.

They started working together and, in no time, built a spacious dwelling, with whitewashed walls and colorful onion domes. All the animals in the forest contributed, bringing pigments, tars, mud, their dung, and hair for insulation. The house stood out in front of the greenery: bright and cheerful, yet in harmony with nature. Koschei was the primary occupant, but all the animals were always welcome to stay.

There were leftover materials from the construction, and with the pigments, sticks, bristles, and mud, Koschei began creating art. He wanted to make a portrait of each of the forest’s inhabitants, from the tiniest ant to the mightiest bison, and was moving ahead with his project smoothly.

One day, as Koschei was doing calisthenics near his house, a short man came out of the forest. He was naked, but most of his body was covered with a long gray beard. On his head, he was wearing a mushroom cap, and in his hands was a scepter made from a tiny knotty tree. By his side were a few small mushrooms who didn’t speak but seemed to accompany his speech with a high pitched hum.

“I’m Leshy,” the man said, introducing himself. “The guardian of the forest.”

“Koschei.” Our hero found himself unthinkingly curtsying to Leshy. “I’ve never seen you before, but I hope you don’t mind me imposing with this structure. I have nowhere else to go.”

“Neither do I,” Leshy responded. “You’ve done a good job, and you can stay. The forest clearly likes you. I came here to extend an invitation to her depths to you, if you would be so kind.”

Koschei didn’t have time to respond. Quickly the mushrooms surrounded him, lifted him, and started carrying Koschei into the dense thicket. All the while, they kept uttering their fairy hum.

They arrived in a clearing, where a large wardrobe, also of knotty wood, was standing with its doors flung open, and within it were unseen wonders. Dresses, skirts, petticoats, and blouses made from the most delicate mosses, spiderwebs, and flowers waited on the hangers. Elegant high-heeled shoes made out of bundled leaves and the choicest barks stood in rows, while an army of frogs was gathered in a circle nearby. As Koschei approached, they simultaneously unrolled their long tongues, each one revealing a priceless jewel. Some were made of fresh morning dew, others of amber drops with ancient remains, butterfly wings, or insect carapaces inside. Meanwhile, deer and moose gathered round, their eyes beckoning Koschei with a mysterious glint.

A gray gecko stepped out from among the frogs, carrying a small crown that had a sun on the front, a half moon on the back, and stars on the sides.

“Can I touch it?” Koschei asked as he reached for it.

“You must wear it immediately,” Leshy said. He raised his beard, covered in fallen leaves, and showed the tips of his own high-heeled slippers the color of ripe blood. Right away, the mushrooms and frogs starting swarming Koschei with exquisite clothes and accessories in tow and dressed him up in all the finery. The fireflies arrived and began covering his face with pigments and pollens. Once they were done, the creatures procured a full-length mirror and allowed Koschei to look at himself.

“I’m a real tsarevna myself now,” Koschei said with a gasp, and Leshy responded with a hearty, content laugh, which reverberated across the forest with the mushroom hum.

“It didn’t seem right to have a castle without a tsarevna inside.”

No one on the island minded it when Koschei dressed up as Tsarevna. They all embraced it. Soon, Koschei’s original clothes became tattered, and he switched to wearing Tsarevna’s clothes exclusively. And when he didn’t feel like Tsarevna, and wanted to be Koschei for the day, he went naked. Growing up he had learned that nakedness was shameful, but here he basked in the sun among the animals, and it was the most natural thing.