Is she going to burn down the cottage, just like the fields burn?
I listen as hard as I can. The wind blows outside. The fire crackles in the grate. Hansel mumbles something in his sleep.
My throat goes tight, but I swallow until it’s normal again. No matter what happens when the sun rises, at least I have my Hansel with me. And even if it’s only for tonight…
If it’s only for tonight, then I’ll accept that.
We’re fine for the moment. Everything is fine. The witch isn’t going to burn the cottage down.
Still, I decide to stay awake for a while, just to be sure. Best if one of us keeps a lookout. At least we’re not sitting in a tent, or underneath a tree. We have fire. We have walls, and a door shut tight behind us.
We have each other.
I watch the shadows from the fire on the ceiling and listen for patterns in the wind.
I don’t mean to drift off.
I don’t know that I’ve fallen asleep at first. I notice the room is dark, like the fire went out, and then everything around me takes the form of that awful night. Hansel in chains. The witch, laughing. It disappears, replaced with pure darkness, and then?—
A sound. Close by.
The scream tears out of my throat before I feel the terror.
It floods through my body the next second, going everywhere. Every nerve ending in my body is alight, not in pleasure, in pure agony. It’s a deep, horrible fear. Goosebumps pull the skin on my nape tight. The tips of my fingers ache. I push myself up in the bed. Where am I? I don’t recognize this room, or these blankets. The fire is burned down to embers. I can’t see. I can’t?—
“Gretel.” Hansel’s arm comes around me, and he gathers me close to his body. He’s warm, and I huddle into his warmth, shaking. “Gretel. Wake up.”
Fear grips me but Hansel holds me tighter. Sleep burns my eyes but I wake, my throat raw from screaming. It takes a moment for me to understand, it was only a nightmare.
“I’m awake,” I gasp. Another scream tries to fight its way out of my mouth, but I swallow it and reach for Hansel. His chest rises and falls under my hand. I blink toward the bedroom door. “I saw—I think I saw something. I think?—”
“It was just a dream.” He runs his hand up and down my arm. “Nothing’s here.”
“No,” I argue. “Maybe I didn’t see anything, but there’s—I heard something. Something woke me up. I wasn’t dreaming.”
He turns my face to his and kisses me. He’s tender and sweet. And slow. His love begs my heart to slow. My hands tremble and I try to look past him but he kisses me again.
That grounds me a little. I can breathe when he’s kissing me. Not very deeply, but better than I was before. My lungs work, and I inhale between kisses, hoping my heart will stop pounding.
Something woke me up. I know it. My body reacted like someone had touched me. Someone who wasn’t Hansel.
I break the kiss and glance around the room. My vision is bleary from having fallen asleep, but there’s nothing here. The broom is still in the corner. Hansel’s clothes and mine remain on the floor. The bedroom door is open, but there’s no figure hovering at the foot of the bed or on the floor.
We’re alone, but I don’t feel alone.
Another wave of goosebumps rolls over my arms. Hansel bends his head and kisses my shoulder. “Cold?”
“No, I just think—” I look at the doorway again. There’s nobody standing there, but the shadows aren’t comforting. They don’t look…safe. “I think something happened. I don’t know what. I want to leave.”
“I don’t see anyone. Nothing’s different from when we got into bed. It’s too dark to leave, but let me stoke the fire. That’ll help.”
Hansel climbs out of bed, it creaks with his weight, and for a few seconds, my mind is blank except for him. I grip the covers tight around me. How could I think about anything else when he looks like that? He’s always been lean, but now his muscles are carved out from the work he’s done. He’s loose and relaxed as he stretches his arms over his head, slips his trousers on, then pads over to the grate and takes the poker from metal holder nearby. As he does I slip my chemise and tunic on.
When Hansel stirs the embers, the fire jumps up again, little flames catching. It grows and grows once he’s turned his back. The fire is alive. There’s nothing to burn and yet it dances with a heat that it shouldn’t.
“Hansel…” I say, my voice small.
“Yes?”
