Hansel and Gretel (8 page)

In the now-glowing moonlight, it was easy to make out the pale fabric against the darkened bush. He walked over to it and removed the small piece. Was this Gretel’s doing? He retraced his steps to the original road and slowly walked the horse back down it again. Before, his eyes had been trained upon the ground, watching the muddied tracks. This time he looked up. After about eight hundred yards or so, he was able to make out another small patch of cloth on a branch.

This one was the same pale color. He noticed a pattern similar to the apron she usually wore.

Good girl.

He quickly turned the horse around and approached the fork again. He cantered down the left lane, easily following the small pieces of fabric she had left for him. Every ten minutes or so, he would come across another torn remnant.

Thank goodness she had thought to do so.

This went on for a few hours as he rode his horse deeper and deeper into the woods and away from any paths he had ever taken before. In some places, the lane would become so narrow and shrouded over with trees and branches looming above him, he would have to bend down to make it through. How in the world had Pa made it with the horse and cart? He was simply amazed. His father must be locked deeper within Cora’s spell than he originally imagined if the man was willing to do all this at her bidding. No telling what shape the cart was in after his jaunt through the storm.

With Gretel tearing her apron as she had, it was clear she was awake and had enough of her wits about her to remember their little talk earlier—at least that much he could ascertain. He sighed and plowed deeper into the forest, hoping against hope he would come across her soon.

Hansel knew when she had run out of fabric to tear. It had been at least thirty minutes and there had been no sign of cloth anywhere. He finally decided to retrace his steps to see if he had missed a turn in the path or something. He picked his way back up the lane and eventually found the last marker he had seen. Glancing around the dark area, he searched for an opening through the forest that would lead him on. Seeing nothing but foliage, he decided to slip off the horse, tying him to a nearby tree, and go by foot.

“Gretel!” he called out, his voice quickly becoming muffled and lost within the shrubs and trees around him as he clomped through the fallen leaves in the dark. “Gretel, where are you? Can you hear me?”

Everything still smelled damp from the storm earlier, but the air was clear and the night breeze almost warm. “Gretel!” he attempted again.

Walking slowly back down the lane, he paused every few feet or so to search through the brush for an opening he might have missed while on horseback. An owl hooted nearby and a small woodland creature could be heard scampering across the forest floor behind him. He quickly pushed back some shoulder-high bushes to his right, peering into the darkness to see if he could make out a path. Nothing.

Turning to the left, he was about to do the same on the other side of the lane when he noticed everything around him become still and silent.

It was too still and too silent.

The hairs on the back of his arms stood on end as he listened. “Gretel?” he called, nearly whispering this time.

The sound of the soft crunching of wet leaves reached him before he heard the witch’s voice.

“Hansel. So I have found you at last.” She laughed and clicked her tongue.

Whipping around, he searched frantically for her, but she was cloaked within the dark. He could barely make out the misty beginnings of the sunrise, but it was still some minutes away.

“Why must you always make things so very difficult for yourself, boy?”

Another rustle to his right this time.

“Come here. It is time we settled this once and for all,” she hissed.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

GRETEL PAUSED IN HER munch-munching of the taffy in her hand. A faint sound broke through her thoughts again—this time it was just a bit louder. She took another bite, forgetting about it until it broke through her subconscious once more.

She knew that sound. Pulling the candy away from her mouth, she stood up. What was it?

Pausing, she waited to hear it again.

“URGHHHH!”

She jumped. This time it was extremely loud and close by.

What would make such a frightful noise? Dropping the candy to the floor, she rushed to the window, desperately trying to peer through the tinted confection into the woods outside. What was out there? Was it an animal of some kind?

“URGHHH!”

No. She knew that grunt. That was no animal—it was something familiar. Her foggy brain was not working correctly—she could not think at all like she normally did. Something was wrong. Something was very familiar as well, as if she knew, if she could just put her finger on what was really happening to her. But she did not know what to do or say to make the thoughts assemble themselves into some sort of order. Confused, she glanced down and saw the forgotten taffy upon the ground.

Oh, how she loved taffy. She took a step toward it. Already her tongue could taste the deliciousness in her mouth.

“You will not run from me again!” came a shriek less than twenty feet from the cottage.

Gretel jumped again and looked up. She knew that voice as well. Where was she? Who was out there? Why did it all sound so familiar?

“Get back here, boy! I will kill you now!”

“No!” The reply was loud and strong and so very natural, as if she had heard it a hundred times before.

Someone was going to die. Gretel stepped back toward the window to look outside. It was too marred—she could not see through it. Frustrated, she walked to the door and set her ear against it. Did they need help? What was happening? With her nose so close to the red door, she began to pick up the faint scent of strawberry. Hmm… It smelled so good. Just as she was about to lick the door, she heard the thundering of feet rushing toward her and then something slamming into the other side. She yelped as the whole door rocked under the impact.

There was scuffling of some kind and some grunting noises before she heard the sound of steps making their way around the back of the cottage.

“Hansel, halt!” yelled the voice.

Hansel. Why did that name sound so very familiar? Gretel pulled away from the door, this time not glancing at anything particular. Hansel. Who was that? How did she know this name? She rubbed at her face, trying to remind herself of that distant foggy memory, the one that would explain this all.

Placing a couple of fingers in her mouth, she sucked them as she thought. The salty tang of them was an interesting flavor mixed with the sweetness already on her tongue.

She sucked some more, liking the peaceful effect it had on her.

And then she remembered. Just like that.

Hansel! Hansel is being chased by Cora—she is trying to kill him!

Gretel could not remember how she came to be in the strange house, or why, but she knew Hansel was in danger and he needed her. Somehow the salt on her skin counterbalanced whatever was holding her mind hostage.

Her thoughts were less cloudy—now she could think. She had to help Hansel.

Frantically searching around the one-roomed cottage, she looked for any tool she could find that might be of assistance. There was nothing, simply nothing but oodles of edible sweets. Even the chair and table were edible. Bah.

She noticed a small window above the kitchen basin on the other wall. Climbing on the cookie countertop, she attempted to peer through that pane. Ugh. Why must every single surface of the place be candy? Tapping against the solid sugary mass, she could not even manage to get it to crack. Outside, the blurs and shadows told her Hansel was still not caught, but it could not be long before he was. And from the shouting, she knew Cora would soon lose all control.

Frustrated, she slipped off the counter, her eyes taking in the small candy stools near the cookie table. Wait a moment. Walking over to a bright blue stool, she picked the thing up. It was not very heavy, but at the same time it was most definitely not light. It had enough substance in it to do some damage if needed. This would work.

She tucked it under her arm and listened a moment. The main scuffling was happening behind the cottage still. Good. Slowly, she opened the door and stepped into the bright morning sunshine.

Hansel grunted again and dodged to the left. Thank goodness the witch’s powers had dimmed somewhat after her fall—he had been evading her for hours and she was still not able to freeze him. One thing was certain—the woman did not give up easily.

He heaved another lungful of air and dashed under the bushes on his right. Exhausted, but not about to give in, he plowed on just a few steps ahead of his stepmother’s every movement. “Give up!” he hollered as he felt the bushes next to him shift. He kicked out with his foot and met the solid force of thigh.

She shrieked as she stumbled to the ground. “You will die!”

“Never!” he called back, his feet already scrambling out of the brush into a dead run toward the colorful cottage. If he could get to the strange house, he might find something in there to protect himself and then get his bearings to resume his search for Gretel. Just as he was about to reach the red-and-white wraparound porch, he felt a tug upon his shirt.

No. He was whipped violently backward and flung upon the ground, landing on a large, sharp rock.

“Enough!” Cora shouted. Her bruised features and shabby, filthy dress rose above him as he winced.

His back ached from the stone she had thrown him upon.

The witch’s angry eyes blazed as she loomed over him. This time she planted her knee into his chest as she slammed down on top of him. Hansel groaned and attempted to fling her off, but the grass instantly grew into vines that wrapped themselves around his body and held him prisoner. He tugged and jerked against the pressure of the green straps, but it was all in vain. Within seconds, he was completely held captive by them.

Cora leaned down and grabbed his throat, her fingers tightening and digging into his neck, her other hand slipping into the pocket of her dress. “Now drink this vial!” she roared. “Drink it all! I am through with you—you will pay for what you have put me through!”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

GRETEL CREPT CLOSER TO the pair. Her arms shook as she held the small stool above her head. There was no chance she would allow Cora to take Hansel from her, not after all the woman had done to destroy her pa. Hansel grunted and squirmed against the tight bands around his frame as her stepmother dug her nails into his throat. But it was the vial—the small jar of liquid she hovered over his lips—that lunged Gretel into action.

With the cry of a great hawk, she swooped down and slammed the stool over Cora’s head, its legs trapping her neck neatly within their framework, her head squeezing between the rungs and supports.

The witch instantly let go of Hansel and screeched.

Gretel shoved against the stool again and the candy chair slid down Cora’s shoulders as well. Rolling off Hansel, the witch attempted to rise, but could not get enough leverage with her arms trapped as they were. She teetered and collapsed.

Gretel bent down and yanked and ripped against the green vines holding her brother captive. They would not budge.

“Go!” he shouted. “Get out of here! She will kill you.”

“No. I will not leave you.”

“Gretel, I swear in all of God’s good grace, you must leave this place now. I have been searching for you all night—now that I know you are safe, you must leave.”

“No. I will not run off with you in such a state.”

Cora laughed. “You two children will cease your bickering,” she muttered into the ground where she remained. “It tires me.”

“Gretel,” Hansel hissed as she continued to pull and tug at the vines trapping him. “Neither she nor I can move right now. You must go. You must.”

“It does no good to speak to me of this. I will not leave you here.” She glanced to the right of him and under his shoulders, attempting to see what held the vines in place. “Is this grass? What sorcery is this?”

“Yes, you fool!” Cora snarled. “Everything around this cottage is under an enchantment, can you not tell? Or are you too daft to figure this out for yourself?”

“Do not speak to her that way!” Hansel grunted and jolted against the strands. “You will regret every word spoken.”

“Shh… Do not antagonize her.” Gretel tried to free him. Still nothing. She glanced around, seeing if there was anything she could use to cut the strands. Spying the vial laying on its side upon on the ground a few feet away, she snatched it up.

“Do not touch that!” Cora shouted. “Put it back! Put it back now!”

The grass began to tremble beneath Gretel and she opened the small jar of liquid as the green blades grew into vines, winding themselves around her feet and legs. Not sure what to do, she placed a small drop of the liquid upon one of the strands that held Hansel prisoner. It instantly sizzled and recoiled—evaporating before her eyes.

“Did you see that?” she asked, the strong vines tightening around her legs.

“Yes! Do it again.”

She dripped tiny droplets of the potion over several of the cords both on him and the cords on herself. They all recoiled and shrank into grass again. Within moments, Hansel was free.

“You are brilliant!” he exclaimed, his arms wrapping around her as he pulled them both up. “What made you think to use it?”

“I have no idea. It was the only thing I had—I am just grateful it worked.”

“You two may rejoice now, but you will not be alive long enough to enjoy it.”

“Strong words for a woman who is caught up and facing the ground at the moment.” Hansel walked over to her. Cora did not flinch. “What were you planning to do to our father?”

“The same thing I will do to both of you.” She grinned into the dirt and then coughed a bit. “Make you sweet enough to eat, of course.”

“What? You were going to eat us all? Are you mad? What of Gretel becoming the Larkein queen?”

The witch cackled before sputtering into coughs again. “Do you honestly believe I would have captured her to put her on the throne? Are you seriously foolish as all that?” Her foot pushed against his leg, allowing her to turn over to see him better. “No. She was just going to be the last one of you I ate. I always take on the appearance of my most recent dinner.” She grinned. “Poor Cora Childress did not know what was happening to her when she became captivated by my candy.”