One day Vasalisa came to a compound in the heart of the forest. Its fence was made of dead men's bones. The latches on the gate were bony fingers. On every stake a human skull gazed out into the forest.

Vasalisa wondered if this were Baba Yaga's dwelling. The doll told her it was. At that moment, the horseman dressed in black on his black horse galloped by. Black horse and rider leapt the fence and were lost to sight, for swiftly it was night. A moment later and all the skulls blazed with an inner fire, lighting the compound like day.

Trembling with fear and clutching her doll deep in the pocket of her apron, Vasalisa lifted the bony latch and entered the compound. There she saw Baba Yaga's hut. It stood on huge, yellow, scaly chicken legs. Sometimes it strolled about the compound. Sometimes it whirled around like a dervish. But always its doorway faced the deepest, darkest part of the forest.

There came a sound like wind roaring through the forest. The great trees shook and creaked and their branches cracked and Baba Yaga descended into the compound in her chariot. Baba Yaga's chariot was a massive mortar which she propelled with a great pestle. As she rode through the forest and across the sky she swept the tracks behind her with a besom made of dead men's hair.

For Vasalisa, Baba Yaga was a fearsome sight. Her long black hair was wild, all knotted and greasy. Her face was a mass of warts, her eyes a piercing black. Her long nose hooked downwards like a scimitar and her chin hooked upwards towards it like an old crescent moon.