Katia slept the night through. She was surfacing from the deepest sleep she had ever known when the yammering reached her ears. An argument of some sort, she reckoned as one gravelly voice after another held forth with pithy certitude:

“Tis elderberry. I say so without halt.”

“Naye, Skarn. Yer tung be up yer arse. Tis nannyberry.”

“Ye both be erring. Tis crowberry, gathered early n’ boiled late. I’ll wager me fine wagon.”

“Ye ken keep yer bloody, furkin’ wagon.”

Katia, in her pallet beside the hearth, forced her lids open and in the dim light of the cottage beheld the garden gnomes gathered around Baba Yaga’s sturdy table. They sat on pillows, but their bearded chins almost grazed the tabletop as they fussed over a breakfast of toasted pumpernickel and a pot of jam.

“Keep it down, would you?” she asked, “I’ve got a headache, and your bickering is making it worse.”

The gnomes craned their necks to see her beyond the table. “I dayzn’t see naybody, do ye?” asked Iggy.

“I’ll git atop n’ look o’er,” said Skarn, who clambered onto the table and spied Katia peeking out from a thick woolen shawl.

“Well?” asked Finn.

“Tis a maid,” Skarn answered.

“A human?”

“Would you, please be quiet? PUHleeze.” Katia shook off the shawl, stood and walked toward them.

“Er’s coming outer er binding,” Skarn whispered. “Needs a cuppa tea n’ hunny, er does.”

“Aye,” agreed Iggy, who went to the cupboard, took out a mug, and filled it from the teapot. He added six spoons of honey and pushed it in front of Katia, who now sat across from the gnomes, rubbing her temples.

“Drink it. Yer sapped from the binding,” Skarn ordered.

“I’ve got a hangover. Too much vodka.”

“Nay, tis bound ye were,” Iggy seconded.

“I don’t think…”

“Ye ‘ave all the signs. Itchin eyes, fur tung, ‘ead urting.”

“Aye,” Finn added.

“What’s a binding?” she asked.

“Tis a spell of holding,” Skarn replied. “Ye git naywhere wence bound.”

“How long does it last?”

“Twill vary.”

Iggy smeared butter on a piece of toast, slathered it with jam, and offered it to Katia. She thanked him and took a big bite.

“Ummm, delish.”

The gnomes stayed till she finished eating, doffed their pointy red caps and lumbered off just as Baba Yaga appeared in the doorway.

“Was this how Snow White got her start?” Katia wondered aloud.

“Ha!” snorted Baba Yaga from the doorway. “I knew Snow White and trust me, you do not want to get mixed up with this girl. She is not as innocent as she pretends to be.”