Gretel & Hansel Part 2

I stalked ahead, furious with Hansel.  Our second day out in the forest and we were going to die of hunger.  He was sure he had been so clever, using our meagre supply of dry bread to leave a trail of crumbs.  He thought we could use them to find our way back home, even though I told him it would never work.  As usual, he was certain he knew best.  I would have laughed at his disappointed face when the birds swooped down and ate every tiny crumb but our situation was too serious for the smallest smile.

I could hear him crashing through the undergrowth behind me, blundering around, tearful and weak.  He called my name but I ignored him, concentrating my anger so it formed a hard steel ball in the pit of my stomach.  Let him suffer and whine.  I had no time for it.  Or for him.  My skin felt as if it would scorch leaves as I pushed through the brambles and bracken on the forest floor.  My rage felt as if it alone would keep me alive.

And then I smelt it.  A wonderful scent of honey and gingerbread, threading its way through the tall trees, like a promise of paradise.  Entranced, I lifted my head and sniffed, breathing in the glorious smell.  My stomach rumbled and my mouth filled in anticipation.  I forced my way past nettles and broken branches, ignoring everything except that enticing scent.  Soon, my path became easier and ahead I thought I could see a beam of sunlight.  The sweetness in the air mingled with the harsher scent of wood-smoke.  I burst from the undergrowth, into the light, and saw a small cottage, the chimney wreathed with blue smoke.

I stopped, mouth agape.  The cottage roof was covered in slates of luscious gingerbread, dredged with icing sugar which sparkled in the feeble sunlight, like snow in a dream.  The walls were made from sweet biscuit, iced with delicate patterns, and the window frames were formed from black liquorice.  The pebbles on the smoking chimney were made from red and green and yellow sweets, glistening like the stained glass in the village church.

Behind me, Hansel stumbled from the dark forest, blinking in the sunlight but I ignored him and darted forwards, eager to snatch at the crisp edge of the porch.  It broke, crumbling and warm in my hand, the most wonderful cake I had ever tasted.  I reached for more and filled my mouth, mindless of crumbs and sticky fingers.  Hansel held back, looking unsure.  I turned from him and pulled biscuits from the windowsill, pink and white wafers which were more delicious than the cake.
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‘Here,’ I called and threw one towards him.  It fell on the ground and vanished, leaving a wisp of green smoke curling in the air.  With a moan, Hansel ran forwards and fell on the doorstep, cramming the sweet gingerbread into his mouth so that I thought he might choke on it.  I realised that I must look like that, too.  After two days without food it seemed we would never feel full again.  No matter how much of the sweetness we ate, it did nothing to fill the void.

Behind us came a voice.

‘Well, well.  Deary, deary me.  And what is this I find?  Visitors?  And ones who do not even ask permission before they disturb my peace and destroy my property.’

I turned.  An old woman, with a withered arm, stood at the edge of the clearing.  She was dressed in black, with long white hair falling from an untidy coil on top of her head.  Her bony finger pointed at us, accusingly.  I knew, in an instant, what she was.  A witch and one with a magical cottage, a lure for hungry children.  And I thought:
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She is old and alone.  We are two.  We can defeat her if we stick together.

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