Gretel

11

Things went swiftly as soon as  Hansel was out of sight. The witch let out a ferocious, ear-splitting cry of outrage that could have curdled milk. Digging her nails into Gretal's arm that was sure to draw blood, she violently dragged Gretel in the direction of the cottage, screaming curses at her all the way. Her violent handling of the girl was meant to strike fear to her very core, yet Gretal remained unphased through it all. Gretal's calm demeanor should have been a warning to the witch, at the very least should have made her reconsider what she decided to do next. If she had, she would have realized that the girl was going to ensure that today would be the last day her life was like this and that the witch, as powerful as she was, was going to pay for all she'd done or planned to do.

The unruly pair arrived back at the curious cottage, the cake and candy walls that had once looked so inviting when she had first arrived, now looked forboding and down-right terrifying. With no surprise, the witch began to beat on her once they had gotten inside. It was a vicious and cruel attack. hands were thrown, hair was pulled and hair was slapped. To her credit, Gretal did not outwardly react at all. The girl was far too busy to deliver her captor's downfall. Not for the first time did Gretal wish that she and Hansel had never dared to sample from the cursed walls. Though they had been starving, in hindsight it hardly seemed worth it. Most of all  Gretal hoped Hansel would make it to shore okay, though a small pessimistic part of her doubted it. The witch had ensured that he had been in an extremely helpless and pitiful state, a far cry from the boy he had been three years prior. Gretal hadn't wanted him to be out at sea like that but there had been no choice. It had seemed better than being cooked and eaten by the witch after all. She prayed the well would continue to float until it reached land.  If he was gone, she only hoped it was quick and painless. With nothing she could do to ensure her brother's survival, Gretal focused on surviving herself.

Finally having enough, Gretal readied herself for the witch's next slap and when the older woman went to strike her again, she grabbed the witch's wrist in midair with her powers and held it there. "Don't you dare hit me again!" the girl spat out, her hidden rage revealing itself like a mask that was beginging to crumble, her metaphysical grip on the woman's wrist strengthening to a painful degree. For a moment the old witch looked stunned, and it was clear that she hadn't expected any fight or resistance from the girl, or at the most that any displays would certainly be feeble compared to her. She was certainly shocked but she quickly recovered. Cackling darkly, Gretal's captor did something the girl hadn't expected: jabbing the poor girl in the eyes and grabbed  her by the hair once again she began roughly hauling her towards the kitchen. In the midst of the struggle, Gretal wondered what the Witch could possibly want now. That was was when the witch said something Gretal couldn't have fathomed, though she should have.

"You may have won the battle but you're going to lose the war you wretched girl. I may not have been able to sink my teeth into your brother but no matter-I'm going to have you in his place." The haggard hand that had so cruelly pulled her long reddish golden hair suddenly let go. The Witch hastily began tosing large logs into the woodstove, the flames roaring to life without being lit, the flames much bigger and stronger than what one would normally use in a stove like that. Of course the girl didn't tell the older woman that, though she feared a house fire could errupt any moment. Gretal blanched, trying very hard not to let her terror show. It wasn't easy. Running wasn't an option and the girl knew it. Knowing she needed to think fast, Gretal did her best to stall the woman.

"But don't you need me to do the chores? Haven't you made me your apprentice? If you eat me, who will carry on your legacy?" Gretal tried, hoping to get the Witch to calm down and rethink her decision. The Witch had always stressed how important it was that the next generation kept the tradition of spell work alive. Once the girl had pointed this out, she wished she hadn't.  The response was not what the young witch had hoped. Loud, uproarious, insulting laughter irrupted from the mouth of the woman as she turned from her work. The look on her face suggested that Gretal had uttered the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard.