Woodman Casting Anisiya 〈Quick〉

Now, kneeling in the soot-stained snow, Anisiya made a decision softer than a breath. She did not pull her hands away. She did not cry out. She simply stopped resisting —not the wood, but the shape Pavel was forcing upon it.

Pavel had rolled over. “You dream too much.” Woodman Casting Anisiya

She had become his handle. Every burden he could not swing alone—the winter firewood, the slaughtered goat, the silent meals—she absorbed. And like the ash, she had learned not to scream. Now, kneeling in the soot-stained snow, Anisiya made

“You bend it too fast,” Anisiya whispered, “it screams.” She simply stopped resisting —not the wood, but

Her husband, Pavel, was a man of notches and axe strokes. He could fell a century-old larch so it landed exactly where he wished, splitting open like a gift. But when Anisiya tried to speak of the ache behind her ribs, he would grunt and sharpen his blade. “Wood doesn’t complain,” he would say. “Wood stands still.”