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... Stealing out on another of her jaunts, Baba Yaga, the forest witch, utters a wonted whistle to bring mortar, prestle and broomstick scurrying to the scene. Through the forest she glides seated in the mortar, using the prestle to drive her swiftly on her way, the broom to smoothen all traces left behind by her unusual conveyance. The cracking of trees accompanies the rustle of dry leaves littering the ground. Soon the whole forest is alive with sound... (Extract from a Russian Folk Tale by A. Afanassiev.)

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