Kiska and the Firebird

[mishalak]

Once upon a time, there was a young girl named Kiska. She had straight black hair cut sensibly short so she could play without it getting tangled. She wore a blue skirt with white stockings and a pretty peach colored blouse when she went out to play in the back yard.

Sometimes she would ask her mother if she could have the little tea set so she could have a pretend party with her stuffed animals. Her mother look out the window and if the day was nice she would say, "Of course my Kiska." They would fill up the teapot with water for pretend tea and then they would carry the set out into the yard. Then Kiska would carefully wipe the little chairs around her table so her friends would not get their fur dirty and seat them carefully. She loved the blue on white pattern of the teapot with its two cranes flying over the bridge and was always very gentle with it.

One day after she had been playing for a short while she saw something bright like a candle flame in the raspberry thicket behind the big apple tree. She carefully made her way between the thorny canes 'til at last she found it was a feather caught in the bushes. But what a feather! It looked like it was made out of the rays of the setting sun, glowing brilliantly in the half twilight under the tree and bushes. At first Kiska was afraid, it looking so much like the fiery hot coals in a wintertime fire. But it didn't appear to be burning the bushes so she carefully reached out and put her hand over it. She waited a moment and didn't feel any heat, so she carefully reached out to it.

The feather was cool to the touch, but glowed as fiercely as ever. And at once Kiska decided to keep it and not tell anyone about it. Not her mother, not her father, and not her friends, she would keep it all to herself. She got out of the raspberry thicket and carefully brushed the dirt off her knees. Then she hid the feather inside her blouse and went inside up to her room where she put it inside a book and then hid it at the bottom of her sock drawer, because that's where you hide things.

That night long after the backyard tea party had been cleaned up, dinner had been eaten, and Kiska had brushed her teeth she lay in bed thinking about the feather. As she thought a deep orange glow flickered across the room from the window. She got out of bed and went to the window where she saw a bird with the same long shining feathers in the backyard. It swooped about and landed next to the raspberry thicket where it started to pluck out ripe berries and eat them.

Kiska did not like this one bit, because she enjoyed eating the raspberries herself and the wonderful jam her mother would make with them. She threw open her window and shouted at the bird, "Go away you!" The bird squawked displeasure at being disturbed and flew away. Kiska went to bed...

---

The next morning Kiska went out early to see what the firebird had eaten. Either it had gobbled down the raspberries very quickly or it returned after she scared it off, for there were very few left. Kiska wanted to do something about this, but she felt embarrassed that she had not told her mother about the feather.

There was one other person in the neighborhood she could ask: Baba, the old wise woman, who lived three streets down. Sometimes grownups went to ask her advice about love, ghosts, and sickness. Kiska had seen her house behind its carved wooden gate, so different than all the other ones while walking with her mother to the park and library.

Now she thought and decided that she would go to Baba to ask her what to do. So she asked if she could go for a walk. Her mother told her to be careful and said, "Yes, you may go for a walk."

So Kiska took her book with the feather inside it and walked quickly down the sidewalk. One street, two streets, three streets to the little red brick house where Baba lived. She opened the gate and walked through the slightly wild garden. Two juniper trees stood in front of the house with softly ringing wind chimes hanging from their branches. She walked up to the blue green door and knocked before she could become afraid.

After a moment the door opened and there stood Baba. Her white hair framed her wrinkled face like the cap of snow around the top of a hill. She smiled as Kiska, her dark eyes twinkling, and said, "Hello my dear, have you come for advice?" She brushed a little flour from her apron.

"Yes I did," Kiska said in a small voice.

"Well come in my dear and we can talk." Baba showed her through the little sitting room and dinning room to the kitchen. She finished putting a pan full of cookies into the oven and then sat down with Kiska at the little round table. "So what seems to be the trouble my dear?"

Kiska took out the feather and showed it to the little old wise woman. The fiery colors shone out into the kitchen and she looked very hard at it for a minute. "I see you have a firebird's feather. They can bring bad luck if you are not careful. Did you keep it a secret?"

"Yes I did."

Baba sighed. "I won't make you, but you should tell your mother about this. The feather will bring you bad luck until you share it with others and catch the firebird."

"What would I do with it once I catch it?"

"Well you don't have to keep it, you could give it away or release it. You just have to catch it to make your luck good."

Kiska thought and then asked, "Will you tell me how to catch the firebird Baba?"

"Yes my dear." Baba gave her a fine silky net, grey like morning fog. She gave Kiska a bottle of wine and a bag of grain. And she gave her a big black sack with red cord to close it. She said to put out the grain soaked in the wine on an old plate in the net and to wait carefully not falling asleep. Then when the firebird came and ate most of the grain it would get sleepy because of the fine wine and then she should pull the net tight and put the bird in the sack where it would become quiet.

Kiska thanked her and went home to her house, crossing one street, two streets, and three streets on her way. When she got home her mother asked her how her walk was. She didn't want to but she showed her mother the feather and told her what happened, and said she was sorry.

"Oh my Kiska, I'm not angry with you." And her mother helped her set the trap. She got out an old plate and helped set up the net under the apple tree. As the sun went down they put out the grain and soaked it in the wine. Then they hid on the porch behind the sunscreen. The sun went down and the moon started to come up and Kiska was getting tired. And then the glow of the firebird came into the little yard.

Kiska had nearly fallen asleep, but her mother gave her a nudge and she came awake. The firebird settled down in the tree and looked about cautiously. They both kept very still as the great bird looking like a bonfire settled down onto the net. They waited as it ate the grain little by little. After a while it seemed like it might fly away and Kiska pulled on the net strings. The bird was caught!

They both rushed out into the yard, her mother holding the black sack and Kiska put the bird right into it. And just as Baba said it stopped crying and struggling. Then Kiska and her mother walked hand in hand down the sidewalk, one street, two streets, three streets to Baba's house quiet in the moonlight. They gave her the firebird and Baba smiled at the gift and said she would let it go after a while. And she told Kiska to come back anytime she wanted.

Then they both went back home again with cookies from Baba. And the feather? It has a place of honor in a frame with the family pictures. Under it in the frame there is a little label written in the fine handwriting of Kiska's mother. 'Kiska's Firebird Feather' It is there still.