Ariel's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Ariel wanted legs. She had wanted them since she pulled the drowning prince from the wreck and left him breathing on the sand. A mermaid could not walk beside him. So she swam, tail cutting through cold water, hunting the one person who might trade a tail for feet. She followed a story, not a map. Someone had whispered of a witch who granted wishes for a price. Ariel did not know the witch's name or her door. She only knew she had to find her before the prince forgot the girl who saved him. Her sisters floated near a coral shelf, laughing. Ariel slowed and hid behind a rock. Two of them braided kelp. The eldest talked with her hands. "The sea witch," the eldest said, "isn't of the sea at all." Ariel held still. "She's a forest witch. Baba Yaga. Her house walks on chicken legs while she sleeps. It carries her somewhere new every night." The youngest sister shivered. "I heard she gives you what you ask for. But you have to work for it." "And if you won't work," the eldest said, "she eats you. She's still waiting on the next fool to knock." They laughed again and swam off, trailing bubbles. Ariel stayed behind the rock long after they left. A witch who walked on land. A house that moved every night. Ariel's plan had a shape now, and the shape frightened her. She told herself the fear did not matter. The prince mattered. She pushed off the rock and swam toward the shallows, where the water thinned and light broke the surface. Hours later she found a cottage at the tide line, weathered wood, barrels rotting by a broken fence. It sat still on the ground. Ariel dragged herself onto the wet sand and stared at it, breathing hard, tail useless in the open air. The cottage's legs unfolded. Two great yellow chicken legs lifted the whole house from the mud. It turned to face her. The door opened. A short woman stood inside, purple hair wild around a scowling face. She held a golden staff and leaned on it. Her eyes were yellow, like the sisters' warning made real. Ariel's throat went dry. She had found her. "You're the sea witch," Ariel said. "Baba Yaga." The woman looked down at Ariel's tail. "You crawled here on that." "I want legs. I want to walk." Baba Yaga did not blink. "For a boy." Ariel flinched. "For me." "You'll work for it." Baba Yaga stepped back from the door. "Or you won't leave." The threat sat plain between them. Ariel remembered the eldest sister's words. Work, or be eaten. She pulled herself another length up the sand, toward the walking house and the witch in its door. "Then tell me the work," Ariel said. Baba Yaga smiled. It was not kind. She turned inside, and the chicken legs bent low, lowering the open door to Ariel's reach.