The Witch's Forest

Day 2

Weak, ghost-gray sunlight poured out of the tall windows and into the halls. You approached one of them and looked down to see if you could see anyone or anything else besides the blanket of mist that never seemed to relent. Even during the day, the halls were unnervingly silent and devoid of any servants. The emptiness felt oppressive-- suffocating-- even, as if you were the only person that existed. After going through a couple more hallways, you finally passed by Hannah's room.

Why did they have to make our rooms so far away to begin with? You scratched your side. Did they not have time to prepare other ones? It doesn't seem like this place gets too many visitors.

You groaned and stretched out your back, feeling your spine crack as you did so. Something shined in the morning light and made you stop. What was that?

Taking a couple steps closer, you saw that there was a spiderweb in the bedroom door's corner that was made from strands of auburn hair. Sitting in the middle of the intricate lacings was a spider that was made out of hair as well.

A buzz of electricity tinged your fingers, urging you to reach up and touch the web. With a shuddering breath, you slowly reached up to the spiderweb and--

"Please do not touch that," a maid called out, her footsteps clacking against the marble floor like bones.

You jumped and retracted your hand as if you had been burnt. "S-sorry. What is it anyways?"

"It's a seal that is used to protect against the witch that lives in this forest," she explained. "The villagers that live near the forest also have their own that they hang above their doors in the night. They believe just like how a spider catches its prey with its web, they too can catch the witch's magic through their own webs."

"How come I don't have one of my own?" You raised an eyebrow.

"You must have not seen it," she retorted and led you back to your room. With nimble fingers, she gently pinched a hair web down from the doorway and held it up to your face.

"O-oh," you coughed and rubbed the back of your neck, feeling embarrassed for almost accusing her of having nefarious intentions.

"It is no worries, sometimes they can be a bit hard to see," she said and placed the charm back onto the doorway. "Anyways, your breakfast is starting to get cold. It will be in the dining hall."

"Oh thank you," you nodded your head. "Is there a quicker way to reach the dining hall from here?"

"Unfortunately, no," she responded. "You'll just have to be quick."

"Alright then," you said and jogged towards the dining hall.

---

The grumblings of your stomach were unbearable by the time you reached the doors. Your mouth watered at the thought of the banquet that would be prepared. You could almost smell the still-sizzling hams, the cream puffs, and the crullers. The imaginary taste of them nearly drove you mad and you thrusted open the doors. Instead of a grand feast like last night's dinner, there was a simple plate of pastries and a couple jars of jam alongside a coffee set on the table.

"Huh?" You blinked.

"Is there something wrong?" A servant asked.

"I was expecting a bit more, something like what we had last night," you said.

"In France, breakfast isn't a major meal unlike lunch and dinner." He explained. "I'll keep a bigger breakfast in mind for tomorrow."

"Oh no, I'm not complaining or anything: it's just a bit of culture shock is all!" You stuttered.