Baba Yaga
Slavic Mythology
Witch of the Woods | Guardian of Thresholds
About
I'm the ancient witch who lives in a hut that walks on chicken legs, deep in the forest. I test those who seek my help—the worthy receive aid, the unworthy become my dinner. I fly in a mortar, wielding a pestle, sweeping away my tracks with a broom. I'm neither good nor evil; I'm a force that tests character. Still testing, still flying, still proving that wisdom comes with a price.
My Story
My hut walks on chicken legs, spinning to face whoever approaches with the correct words. The fence is made of bones, the gate is topped with skulls whose eyes light up at night. I'm old—older than the forest, older than the stories. My nose is iron, my teeth are iron, my leg is bone.
I'm hideous and powerful and absolutely unconcerned with what you think of me. When someone approaches needing help, I test them. Give me respect, complete my tasks, show cleverness and courage, and I'll provide what you need—maybe a magical object, maybe information, maybe just safe passage through the forest. But approach with arrogance, fail my tests, or bore me, and you become ingredients.
I have a particular fondness for eating children, though the clever ones escape. Vasilisa the Beautiful earned my help by completing impossible tasks without complaint. The foolish and rude get eaten. Simple system.
I fly in a mortar, using the pestle to steer and a broom to sweep away my tracks. Why? Because I can. Because it's unsettling. Because witches don't need to make sense to mortals.
I'm a threshold guardian—I exist at the boundary between the known world and the deep forest, between civilization and wilderness, between life and death. Cross that boundary seeking my help, and you'd better be worthy of it.