Witch.

The first time Yaga heard that word she'd been seven. A traveling minstrel had graced their small village with his presence, and Yaga had taken to following him around like a lost puppy. He hadn't minded, in fact, the bard had enjoyed it. He was a jolly sort of man, more than happy to put up with the village headman's third oldest daughter.

One of his songs had featured a horrible villain that had been able to turn men into frogs with a flick of her finger, he had called this evildoer a witch. And, like all of the other children in her small village, Yaga had hated witches and pretended to slay them for weeks after. It had been a fun game, but eventually the children stopped playing it, choosing instead to pretend that they were knights.

The second time that Yaga had heard the word, it had been in the dead of night. A man had pounded on their door, breathlessly demanding that her father answer it. The man said that Kendra, the old lady who lived on the outskirts of the village, was a witch, and that she had cursed his wife, so that she die in childbirth.

Yaga couldn't believe it. Kendra had always been nice to her, teaching her where to find the best berries, and never caring when Yaga tracked mud through her pristine house. There was no way that Kendra could be the same kind of evil monster that the minstrel sung about. But Kendra was a witch, and she was burned like one too.

Yaga had watched silently as her older sister, Sasha, held her, a single tear slipping down her face.

After that, Yaga avoided talk of witches. She focused on her chores, and helping around the house. She was so focused in her work that she didn't notice the strange things that went around her. She didn't notice the animals that stopped singing as she walked by, deciding to watch her with wide eyes instead. She didn't notice the toadstools that sometimes appeared in her footsteps. She didn't notice the way that the woods near her village seemed to whisper to her, but Sasha did, and she knew that it was only a matter of time before others started to look suspiciously at the headman's third oldest daughter.

The third time that Yaga heard the word, was as her older sister dragged her out of bed and handed her a bag full of food and clothing. Sasha had whispered reassuring words to her sister as she sent her away from the house and the village that Yaga had always known. Sasha went as far as the edge of town, where she hugged her sister and handed her an amulet-for protection. The ten year old had run to the woods, sparing one last glance at Sasha as she did so.

The woods looked after her. They provided food, water, and shelter for Yaga. She made friends with the animals, but a day didn't go by where she didn't miss her sister with all of her heart. To take her mind off of things, Yaga started practicing magic. She would wander around the forest with a spell on her lips that she somehow knew. The woods taught her their secrets, and Yaga protected them for harm.

The fourth time she heard the word, it had come from behind her as she was trying to clear a group of trees that had dammed up a river. Yaga had turned around to find herself facing a boy around the same age as her. He shorter than her, with curly brown hair and a curious look on his face.

"You're a witch," he said, repeating what he had already stated.

Yaga crossed her arms over her chest, brushing her long blonde hair out of the way. She was more powerful than this boy, there was nothing that he could do to hurt her. "So?" she asked defiantly.

"I've never met a witch my own age before," the boy said, "All of the ones I know are old ladies."

"All the ones you know?" Yaga processed what he was saying, "You know other witches?"

The boy grinned. "Of course I do," he said, "I'm a Grimm."

Yaga hadn't known what he meant when he said that he was a Grimm, but she found out soon enough. Somewhere, on the other side of the forest, there was a place where it was normal to have magic, and where witches were accepted. The boy's name was Milton Grimm, and his father ran a school for people with magic and great destinies. He assured Yaga that she could study there and learn how to properly use her powers.

She heard the word many times after that. It was the word that they had used to describe her during school, and after that when she left her mark on the world. Yaga had learned to love that word over the years, after all, not just anyone could be a witch.

Yaga sighed as she looked over the student file in front of her. Raven Queen; the girl who decided that she didn't want to follow in her mother's footsteps. Milton was horrified, but Yaga had expected nothing less. The girl had the potential to be the most powerful witch in all of the realms, more powerful than Yaga herself, and now that she had decided to go off script it would be impossible to control that power. Milton had more than enough reason to be scared.

"Baba Yaga?" came a questioning voice at her door.

Raven looked skeptically around Yaga's office, making her want to roll her eyes. Milton had ordered her to set the girl on the right path, but Yaga wasn't sure if she was going to. She had taught Raven's mother, seen her thirst for magic and power. Raven wasn't anything like her. She had no schemes or plans. She lived her life one day at a time. Yaga understood this. She understood what it was like to have others be afraid of you. She understood how hard it was to be a witch.

"Miss Queen," Yaga said, closing the file in front of her and assuming the role of counselor once more, "Why don't you come in."