I clear my throat, but that doesn’t make any sound, either. I cling hard to Hansel’s shirt.
The witch waves her hand again, and the door closes behind her. The wall behind us rattles, and the spaces Hansel made around the window close up, stopping the frigid draft. She pats at her hair, shakes out her shoulders, and folds her hands in front of her, looking between us as if we’re her guests. The light cloak around her seems to drift in a wind that doesn’t exist as she moves towards us.
“Hansel and Gretel, I presume?”
I nod, although I do not want to. My body obeys the powerful being.
We’ll get through this, I promise myself. We’ll both get through this.
Hansel’s hands spread out on my back as if he can hear my thoughts. We will get through this, but Hansel’s heart is pounding in his chest. He’s tense, and obviously doesn’t trust her. I don’t trust her, either.
She bows her head, accepting my answer, then looks at us once more, an apologetic slant to her mouth.
“I do apologize for the silencing, but I’ve found mortals don’t respond well to unexpected visitors. You didn’t care for the candlelight and the supper.” The witch gives a shrug, looking slightly disappointed at how we treated the food. She adds, her brow perking, “I thought they were delicious, myself.”
I don’t know what to do. Tears well in my eyes. My heart races, all out of rhythm. The feeling I get from this woman is one of safety and peace, but how can I be sure of that?
I have Hansel’s arms around me. For now, that has to be enough.
It’s a small comfort. It lets my heart settle down a bit, beating softer. It’s still going far too fast.
Moment by moment. Question by question.
The witch studies us, then lets out a quiet sigh. A flick of her hand, and the cottage is transformed. All the dark, dusty wood is replaced with whitewashed plaster walls. Fresh flowers spring into a vase near the sink.
Fresh flowers, in the middle of winter. If I cared to let go of Hansel, I would go over and touch them, because?—
They’re impossible.
The iron oven disappears. A cozy fireplace appears in the wall where the oven used to be.
This is all impossible. For a moment I question my sanity and if I’ve slipped into the depths of sleep again.
But it’s all real. I know it in my heart. I don’t know if I can stand another heartbreak. It would be one too many, and for Hansel…
I don’t think Hansel could stand it, either. I think he might finish tearing the cottage to the ground no matter how many times this witch repairs it.
He might insist on trying for the rest of his life.
I wouldn’t blame him for that, either.
The witch glances around and smiles at her work. “That’s better. Perhaps I should have redecorated before you came. Though…I also know what you did before, and I couldn’t risk that, could I?”
Neither of us can answer, and I don’t move. I just want to stay close to Hansel and feel his heartbeat. I’ve needed him so much since my father took me away, and now every second I have to touch him is worth?—
It’s worth more than anything to me. It’s worth my life. I don’t have an answer for the witch, anyway.
She glances between Hansel and I, her lips pursed, then seems to make a decision.
“You there.” With a graceful hand, she points at me. “Gretel. Speak.”
The magic she had used to silence me fades. I hadn’t realized I could feel it in my throat and only notice it once it’s gone.
“Please.” I’ll never say anything more important. I don’t care about myself. I just need her to leave Hansel in peace. Although Hansel cares about me. I should beg for my life, but my throat is too tight. My voice is too raw. I love him too much. “Please don’t hurt him.”
The witch’s face softens, and she lifts one hand as if she wants to touch us, to comfort us.
“Oh, sweet child, I don’t intend to hurt either of you. This—” She gestures around at the now-gorgeous cottage, encompassing the door to the bedroom, too. “Does this look like pain to you?”
