Baba Yaga whistled. 

A stallion red as the sun galloped from the woods to the driveway.   Solntse, Morozko thought.  Baba Yaga’s pride and joy, whose hooves could leave fields aflame in their tempestuous fury.

Solntse neighed, shifting into the form of a red VW Bug with a shining Slavic sun decal.  The nechist and Baba Yaga piled into the car haphazardly, with Baba Yaga at the wheel.  She drove like a speed demon past buses and Washingtonians onto the highway and followed the Beltway to Washington, D.C., enchanting her way into not paying at the parking garage. They found themselves strolling along the National Mall, obelisk of the Washington Monument...