Page 8 of Hansel and Gerhardt
The forest was just as evil and magical as Hansel had said it was. Worse, even.
And, without a shred of doubt, Hansel was no coward.
He had proved that, having saved Gerhardt’s life at least three times.
Something in Gerhardt wondered how many more times it had happened at home. It wasn’t as though he’d never seen Hansel put his neck on the block to save him a beating. But Gerhardt had so often put that down to Hansel’s desperation to keep the uneasy peace of that cursed shack.
But now he’d seen Hansel bold and brave, defending him at such great cost to himself.
So why was he so angry with him? Why now did he feel so strangely distant and… defensive?
It was as though he didn’t quite know Hansel, very suddenly, just today, and after all these winters. And he wasn’t sure whether that comforted or frightened him.
His weary limbs begged him to drop to the forest floor, to rest and take stock. He was reaching the point of tired that made that idea seem smart. The point where the warm embrace of sleep shielding him from his troubles for a few hours seemed preferable to anything else he could think up.
And if he was lucky, perhaps some evil of the woods would find him and prevent him waking ever again. A fast and painless death. That was what he wanted.
But the sound of Hansel shifting his stance at his side lit the spark of duty—of care. How cruel for Hansel to be left alone out there in the Dark Forest. Gerhardt would just have to not die, unpleasant as the thought was.
He touched a hand to some part of Hansel that he couldn’t see in the dark, and gentling his tone, said, “Let’s keep on. There must be an end to this forest.” Hansel said nothing, but walked on as bidden, so Gerhardt asked, “Were you ever told how big this place is?”
He heard the small sigh from Hansel’s lips. It must have been an effort to speak to him after the way he’d just snapped like that. But neither Hansel’s voice nor words betrayed any bitterness. “I don’t know, by miles or days to ride. I believe some have forged roads and paths through these trees, though clearly not in this part. But the forest plays tricks, like that vine we saw heal itself. We could be three feet from a road, and we would never know it.”
Hansel stumbled, and Gerhardt brought both hands to his big shoulder to prevent him falling. Hansel’s fingers came up fast, squeezing Gerhardt’s. And there they remained as both men stilled again.
“Are you all right, Hansel?” Gerhardt whispered.
“No,” Hansel returned softly. “No, I’m not a bit all right.”
The two were not the sort of stepbrothers to hug and hold one another. They’d been raised roughly, all physical affection dying with each of their mothers. But Gerhardt remembered. He remembered how badly he had craved someone to put their arms around him when he was at his most frightened. When he was abandoned, bereft, alone with that horrible father, terrified of the flame-haired boy who watched him from beneath the table.
The touch of Hansel’s fingers made him close his own into his shoulder, pull him around, and before he knew it, he’d buried his head against his neck. Strong arms enclosed him, and he wrapped iron arms around Hansel. It was the first embrace either had felt in over a decade. He held back the sob, but thetears flowed fresh and scalding, and he felt Hansel’s drop onto his shoulder.
“Thank you.” The sound came barely audible from Gerhardt’s lips, but it made Hansel embrace him that much tighter. Gerhardt closed his eyes against the forest, safer than he’d felt in so long.
Until Hansel pulled away and trudged on.
The silence was different then. It became a silence that felt like it needed to be filled. A heavy silence that seemed to hold a secret from them both.
“Are you—” Gerhardt started.
“Do you think—” Hansel also started.
Boots crushing sticks, the scent of damp leaves and moss, and nothing else.
“I was going to—” Hansel began.
“What if we—” Gerhardt tried.
Then a laugh, gentle from Hansel. And rare. A very rare laugh. It was a warm sound. Alien in the cold forest. It was a nice sound.
“I think we’ll be okay,” Gerhardt said, his heart jarringly desperate for more of that sound. “There are cities, towns, villages. Places out there where other people are. We just have to keep on, and we’ll find them, eventually.”
“You tried to escape so many times,” Hansel returned. “And you never found one.”
“Not so many times,” Gerhardt said. “Only four.” And he’d been caught and returned at every attempt.
Three times, he was found by his stepfather, who’d whipped him, then chained him in the stables for days afterwards.
