Forever Green

~5~ The Talking Teapot

Theiden watched from one of the windows as the witch toiled all morning in the cottage's side garden alongside a rather scrawny-looking scarecrow. Theiden refused to help her, and doubted she would have accepted his help anyway. But with nothing to do, he couldn't ignore his intolerable sense of restlessness.

By noon, he had explored every nook and cranny of the small home. The main room of the cottage was only fifteen steps across, yet somehow the witch had managed to cram an enormous chest of drawers just by the front window, before the fireplace on the left wall and the old floral armchair sitting at the hearth.

At the far end of the cottage, beneath the loft, was the witch's curtained alcove, and a short hall beside that led to the washroom. Theiden next investigated the kitchen on the right, which was dark save for the single window that let in light above the sink. To his disappointment, he was unable to find any knives, as none of the drawers would open for him.

As it neared evening, he finally retreated to the loft, where he picked a book at random and began to read. No more than a half hour later, the front door creaked open, and Theiden straightened up from his slouch against the wall.

"Where are you going?" he demanded once he looked downstairs. The witch had at some point braided her silvery hair, and was now exchanging her straw gardening hat for a dark green cloak on one of the hooks by the wall.

"Off to find more lives to ruin, and more helpless souls to curse," she replied coldly, not bothering to look up at him. "You will stay here."

Theiden rose to his feet. "Like hell I will."

The witch wasn't even facing him, yet when she flicked her wrist in his direction, Theiden felt his legs give way and he tumbled to the floor of the loft.

"You will stay," the witch repeated. "Help yourself to the food in the pantry. I won't return before nightfall." She beckoned to her cat-shaped witchlight, and it dissolved back into a ball of light before following her outside.

The door closed with a bang and the bolt magically slid shut. Although Theiden had expected the cottage to keep him trapped inside, he climbed down from the loft and tried the handle anyway, just in case.

Finally alone—at least for a while—Theiden scrunched his eyes shut and let out a pained sigh. He needed to go home. He had to find a way to escape.

A sound behind him startled Theiden into a crouch, and he felt his eyes widen as a kitchen chair ambled past him and up to the fireplace.

"She was telling the truth, after all," he muttered, shaking his head in bewilderment and straightening back up. The chairs really were bewitched. Then he turned back to the door and let out a groan. What was he going to do? The groan turned into a growl, and he gave the door a resentful kick.

"So noisy, tsk tsk."

The voice was small with a bit of a dusky undertone, and it made Theiden jump, hitting his hand against the door handle as he whirled around. He hissed in pain and instinctively drew the smarting fingers to his chest as he looked around for the speaker.

He was greeted with an empty cottage and the unsteady crackling of the fire in the hearth, but nothing more. Frowning, Theiden squinted into the gloom of the kitchen. One of the cabinets was slightly ajar. Had it been open before?

Theiden cautiously approached the cabinet and swung the door open all the way, only to be met with two bare top shelves and a lone porcelain teapot on the lowest one. Curiously, he reached up to grasp the handle and bring it down to the counter.