CHAPTER

HANSEL

Hansel waited until Gretel fell asleep, her body growing heavy against him. He’d recognized Mother’s insincere tone. While Gretel’s father had welcomed Hansel into his home, Mother had never been nice to Gretel. She didn’t like any pretty girls. Mother didn’t like him, either. She blamed him for his father leaving, and could never see beyond her feelings to understand that Hansel had been just as left behind as her.
He waited for hours, caught between wanting to slip into the escape of dreams, and his mind working to find a way to save Gretel. Mother hadn’t been joking about leaving them in the forest. There had to be something he could do. If this was the Enchanted City things would be so much easier. He had friends and knew every street, alley, and even a secret way into the palace. He’d seen the Prince sneaking around often enough. No one paid attention to kids.
But he didn’t know anyone in the woods, and hadn’t explored much beyond the area around where they lived. At first, he’d resented being relocated to the forest — especially to this place in the middle of nowhere. One smile from Gretel though, was enough to change everything. An instant connection formed between them, and he didn’t want to be anywhere else.
So how could he protect her in the morning? Was it true moss only grew on the north side of trees? Would he be able to see the sun through the canopy to track east and west? Maybe his stepfather had maps, a compass, or something Hansel could use.
The cottage grew quiet and dark. His mother and the Woodcutter must have gone to bed. Hansel’s head was too full of worries to sleep. He rolled onto his back and stretched his free arm under the hard wooden platform they slept on. His fingers closed around his spare shirt, and he carefully tucked it under Gretel’s head.
She buried her face into his shirt and took a deep breath. She always did that, like she took comfort in something she smelled. He wrinkled his nose. All he smelled was that he needed a bath.
Hansel slipped out of the room and down the stairs without a sound. The cottage was small, and any sound carried, but he’d figured out which steps groaned underfoot and avoided them. The Woodcutter didn’t have many furnishings, and it only took a few minutes to rifle through the few drawers in cabinets and a desk. Nothing so helpful as a map or compass. It was too risky to search the bedroom.
He only had two shirts. If he had more clothing he could tear some into strips, but even if he used both shirts, there wasn’t enough material to mark a trail all the way through the forest. Mother didn’t usually pay any attention to him, but even she might notice him tying bits of cloth to trees and shrubs.
Maybe there was something outside. Sticks or something plentiful in the forest wouldn’t attract attention unless someone knew what to look for. After a moment of hesitation, Hansel lifted the secondhand jacket the Woodcutter had given him from a peg, crept to the backdoor, and raised the latch to slip outside. Sliding his arms into the sleeves, Hansel tried to decide where to look. Moonlight illuminated the yard, but the forest beyond was dark.
If he wasn’t careful, he’d get lost before Mother abandoned him. There was a faint path leading from the yard into the forest. That seemed easy enough to follow. His boots were quiet on the soft, dirt path as he walked, eyes searching the ground. He hadn’t been walking long when a white aura caught his attention.
Had that been there before? The forest was so dark he should have been able to see anything that gave off light. Maybe it was some sort of trap. Fairies and a few Other World creatures liked to lure unwary people to their doom. There were only a few hours until sunrise, though. Hansel had to be back in the cottage before the Woodcutter woke up. He was nice, but oblivious to the worst of Mother’s cruel streak. He’d mention seeing Hansel and it would cause problems. There was no better choice. Hansel hurried toward the glow, stopping short when he realized what it was.
The cairn lay in the center of a small meadow. Big rocks and small white pebbles formed a small hill to discourage curious and scavenging animals. Trees had been cut away in a perfect circle, allowing starlight and moonbeams to shine down on the resting place. Someone had planted beautiful flowers that glimmered silver around the rocks, and a carved wooden rectangle read Beloved Wife and Mother. This had to be the grave of Gretel’s mother.
Hansel knelt carefully so he didn’t squash any of the flowers and touched the stones. The bigger ones wouldn’t help, but there were hundreds of tiny pebbles that filled in the spaces between larger rocks.
It was wrong to disturb a grave, but surely Gretel’s mother wouldn’t mind. Borrowing the pebbles was for a good cause. Any mother would want to save her child. Well, not his mother, but from what he knew, Gretel’s mother loved her.
Hansel scooped handfuls of the pebbles into the pockets of the coat. The pockets were big, but they filled up quickly.
Satisfied he could mark the trail and find their way home, he stood. It didn’t feel right just to leave. That was too much like stealing. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I love Gretel, too, and will take care of her.”
A warm breeze that seemed out of place on such a chilly night whirled around his face and touched his cheek in a ghostly kiss. Heat spread from the spot on his face all the way to his heart, and he knew Gretel’s mother approved of his plan and that she would have loved a lost, lonely boy, too. A tingling happiness made him smile as he hurried back to the cottage and hung up his coat.
Mother wouldn’t check it. She turned up her nose at the shabby material. He made his way up the steps to the attic room. Gretel hadn’t awakened. Hansel climbed into bed with a sigh of relief. Snuggling close, he tucked their thin blanket around them and waited for morning.

“Children!” his mother called in the sugary voice she liked to use when she was going to do something mean but was pretending to be nice. “Come down. We’re going for a walk in the forest.”
Hansel rubbed his gritty eyes. It seemed like he’d just slipped back into bed, but morning sun streamed into the attic room through cracks in the thatched roof and wooden walls, so more time had passed than he thought.
Gretel blinked frightened eyes at him.
He wanted nothing more than to comfort and protect her — even from his mother. “Don’t worry, Gretel. I have a plan.” Hansel ignored the pit of hunger in his stomach, the ache in his back and the dry, itchy way his eyes always got after sleeping on musty straw. Gretel needed him to be strong. He pulled on his boots and stood, holding out his hand.
She laced her fingers with his, always trusting him. “You’ll stay with me?”
Hansel felt a hundred feet tall and powerful as any giant when she held his hand. He kissed Gretel’s forehead. “You and me will always be together. Go on. I’ll be down right behind you.”
Downstairs, Mother already wore her thick coat, warm boots, a scarf, and mittens. She pointed at the door. “There’s nothing to eat, so we’re going into the forest to look for food.”
The plate full of crumbs she’d left on the table was proof of her lie, but neither child spoke as Hansel helped Gretel with her cloak and pulled on his jacket. When he put his hands in the pockets relief washed over him. The pebbles were still there. He half thought last and the ghostly kiss was a dream.
They trekked endlessly. Hansel dropped another pebble. It had been hours, and they’d entered a part of the forest he’d never seen before. It was like the trees moved, because the path disappeared behind them, but all the pebbles remained where he’d dropped them, still giving off a faint white glow. He felt miserable, so Gretel must feel worse. But she didn’t complain.
They’d crossed from green trees that grew straight and tall, into a place where the trees looked more black and grew into grasping shapes, like skeletal fingers.
“Here.” Mother pointed to one of the skeleton trees. “You two wait here and rest. I’ll search ahead and come back for you.”
Even if he hadn’t heard her talking last night, he’d know that was another lie, but he pretended to agree. “Yes, Mother.”
She pulled her fur-lined hood up and strode away without a backward glance.
“She’s not coming back, is she?” A tear slipped down Gretel’s cheek. “We’re lost and I won’t see my father again.”
“You will.” Hansel pointed at the last white stone he’d dropped. “Look. I marked the way home.”
She walked back to examine the pebbles, then threw his arms around his neck and beamed at him. “We can go home! We’ll tell my father what she did. He won’t let her do it again.”
Hansel nodded, but he didn’t believe it. He picked up the stones as they followed the path he’d marked. If he was judging the time right, they could make it home just before night.
“Hansel? Do you think we can go to the river for some water? I’m so hungry and thirsty.”
He rose from picking up another stone. His pocket was almost full. They should be almost home, but the forest remained full of the twisted trees. He was hungry and thirsty, too, but if they left the path he might not find it again, especially since it was getting dark. “Soon.” He hugged her close. “I’ll find you something to eat and drink soon.” He hoped that wasn’t a lie.
He picked up two more stones, and searched for the third. Where was it? The forest was so dark he couldn’t see anymore.
A flare light ahead of them made him blink. Gretel gasped.
A cottage. Someone had lit a fire inside, making the windows on each side of a door glow like orange eyes. A yard and garden were enclosed by a fence made of short spikes. This wasn’t the Woodcutter’s house, and they hadn’t passed a cottage before. Had Mother realized what he’d done and moved the stones? Was this a trap?
Gretel’s stomach growled. “Hansel, I smell food.”
She always smelled things he couldn’t, but he inhaled. The scents of stew and gingerbread made his head swim. As his vision adapted, the cottage came into better focus. Walls made of gingerbread. Icing along the joins. Gumdrops sparkled along the path to the door. Candy canes formed the fence and a path to the door.
This had to be a witch’s house, but even as his brain told him to leave his stomach ached with hunger, and his feet took a step forward.
Gretel darted around him, ran through the open gate, and broke off a piece of gingerbread. She stuffed it into her mouth before he could stop her.
“Gretel!” he hissed. “Stop —”
The door flew open and a hag stomped out brandishing a long paddle. Her long gray hair hung in wild tangles and her back was bent, like she couldn’t stand up straight. She cackled and aimed at his sister, who stood frozen in fear. Hansel sprinted toward Gretel and pulled her toward the gate.
But the candy canes disappeared, forming metal bars topped with human skulls instead, and the gate slammed shut with a clang. Lifting Gretel, Hansel threw her over the fence and gripped the bars to climb after her. The metal was icy cold and burned his hands.
“Eat my house, will you?” The witch swung the paddle into his legs and knocked him down. He kept in his cry of pain as she seized his arm. “We’ll see how you like being broken into pieces and eaten!”
For a hunched old hag her grip was deceptively strong. He kicked and flailed, but couldn’t escape her gnarled fingers where they dug into his flesh like claws.
“Run, Gretel!” If he couldn’t escape, at least his sister could get free.