Mirror Mirror [ONC 2021 Version]

TWELVE

When they burst out into the open air, covered in red dirt, scratched and bleeding from the cuts, it was with great relief that the three fell about the tunnel's opening and took in the biggest gulp of air they could. Towards the end of their tunnel traversing, the air had become thick, too toxic and putrid, and their bodies had threatened to close their throats in protest; lungs burned, begging for air.

And it was the chill air that first greeted them as they tumbled out, breathless. Gasping. Its bite nipped at their heated cheeks and frightened hearts; at their raw fingers and their weak legs. The second thing to greet them was a blood-red sky at the crack of dawn, ill-boding dark clouds tinged with lament. Spindly, spiny limbs of dead trees reaching up to touch the ominous expanse. The third thing they noticed about them was that not a sound stirred in the wee hours of the morning. No bird chirps, no rustle of leaves; no creaks and croaks; not even the wind.

"It's awfully quiet out here. Is that normal?" Ruby pushed herself up to her trembling legs. They had walked all night without rest, but she wasn't sitting down for this. Something pricked the back of her neck, its small hairs standing alert. She squinted at the darkness about them, darkness the bleeding sky hadn't penetrated yet. "Cause I don't like the sound of this—or lack of!" she added, rubbing her chilled arms. Perhaps a thicker cloak would have aided the Princess, for she was chilled to her very core as much as the two tumbled bodies around her.

"Not if the land is dead, milady. Dead lands don't speak of life, or so they say." Sir Bashful rose to his feet beside Ruby, scanning the clearing they had come upon. His ominous voice further aided the creep that was settling into Ruby's bones. "I've feared for ages that the Red Forest has met the same fate."

"Dead lands?" Millie eyed the grounds about them with a mixture of dread and longing. Granny. She hadn't seen her granny since the time the woman sent the three children packing, a parcel of food and clothes each hanging from their gangly arms, a bag of gold chiming at Millie's hip.

"This is no place for children, sweet pea. Take thee, brother and sister, as far away from these lands as you can. For times are changing... there is a shift in the air. You are no longer safe here. Go! Make a home somewhere else. Hans and Gretel are your children now. Look after them as they look after you. Go, child. The woods are no longer safe for you."

"But where shall we go, Granny? We have no one but you?" Young Millie had gasped, tears stinging her already red eyes as Hansel and Gretel clung to each other for fear. To their young hearts and minds, Millie and Granny were still strangers, and strangers hadn't been good in their young lives.

"To the south. Go to the south. At the mouth of the Charming Lands, lies a village, small and safe. Orlem it's called. Buy land, build a hut. As the lady of the house, seek employment. Earn your bread."

"But, Granny. Come with us."

Granny's old fingers had wiped the tears from Millie's eyes. "Child, I would come with you in a heartbeat, but I cannot leave these lands. I am as bound to them as they are to me. I am all that stands between—"