I think a lot of people fundamentally misunderstand Baba Yaga because of misapplied feminist readings of her character. Baba Yaga has the inexplicable whims of all immortals. She can be merciful, or not; she can help you, or not; she can kill you, or not. There’s no reason to it, no rhyme, Baba Yaga will do what she wants and we can’t understand any of it. It’s her prerogative; that’s all we need to know, whether we end up in her stew or blessed with new, strange powers. She busts stories open or sews them shut, perhaps because she has a plan, perhaps just because she can. She’s not a witch in a chicken-legged hut. She’s not a monster. Baba Yaga is Baba Yaga – pestle and mortar flying through the night, laughing, and maybe tomorrow it’s your life she’ll touch. Because she can.