Page 9 of Hansel and Gerhardt
Only once was he found by a stranger. A man who’d taken an odious gleam into his eyes when Gerhardt described what he was escaping from. Fifteen winters old, Gerhardt was bound hand and foot by a man he didn’t know, thrown on the back of a cart,and forced home. His father had to pay for him. Gerhardt got two extra days in the stables for it.
“But that was the road to town,” Gerhardt argued, trying to throw off the horror of the memories. “I was stupid to try the same route over and again.”
“Not stupid,” said Hansel. “It was that or the Dark Forest. I believe you were wiser to go where there’s light.”
It didn’t seem wise in hindsight. But it also hadn’t felt like there was any other option.
Yes, Hansel’s tales had scared him. But not so much as the sparkling eyes he’d occasionally caught in the treeline, a row of claws poking out once or twice. Odd screams, maybe human, maybe not. And if he’d been honest with himself, he would have admitted he was just as much of a coward as Hansel, where that forest was concerned.
Hansel cut into his thoughts before he could admit a thing. “I never told him, you know? I kept it a secret. I hoped you’d make it.”
Gerhardt, appalled at the admission, ground to a halt. “I never thought you told him. Not once.”
“You didn’t?” There was a tremor in Hansel’s voice that squeezed Gerhardt’s heart.
“No, of course not. For all our differences…” Perhaps that was better left without further discussion. They’d never once been so close as this. And it was, even here in the woods, so near to death, deeply comforting. “I… I always knew, the little pieces of food I found when I was chained up… I knew they weren’t just spare scraps for the animals. Or at least… I thought they weren’t.” He couldn’t see Hansel’s smile, but he felt it. Emboldened, he added, “I would have done the same for you. Only you were never put in the stables.”
“I wouldn’t have been much use chained up next to you.”
True enough. Brutally true. A thought that hadn’t once occurred to him when Hansel disappeared during his punishments. When Hansel shut his mouth, and Gerhardt wondered if he hated him. He’d assumed he did. Because Gerhardt was never good at keeping his mouth shut. But he’d never thought Hansel’s actions were solely for his sake.
The idea was overwhelming. That Hansel could push down the urge to act so he could help. Because Gerhardt knew, if not for those scraps of food Hansel had sacrificed for him, he probably wouldn’t be there.
Choked up, Gerhardt rasped, “Hansel—”
But, “Gerhardt,” Hansel said at the same time, voice crisp as a fallen leaf. “I can… I can see.”
“You can…” Gerhardt tried to focus. It was but the merest suggestion of shape, yet it was there. It was there, and there must have been a light source somewhere.
He broke from Hansel, surging forward, and sure enough, with every step, that dullness of shape formed itself into recognisable objects. There were the trees, there were the broken branches lying in wait for their shins, there, even, the leaves. And on they moved until a distant glow beckoned to them.
“There!” cried Gerhardt, breaking into a run. Hansel was close behind him as he called over his shoulder, “See that? What a stupid forest! I never thought for a second it had us beat.”
Naturally, Gerhardt immediately tripped and fell over a log.
“Stupid boy!” Hansel breathed, dropping to his knees to pick him up.
But he was greeted with a beautiful smile, such as he hadn’t seen for many winters. “I’m completely fine. And look. We made it.”
Hansel wrenched him to his feet, cautious even in the face of such overwhelming optimism. “Not yet, we didn’t. We can’t relax until we’ve found a town far away from home.”
“You worry too much, Hansel. Always have.” And Gerhardt was off running again, fast and straight into the light, where he skidded to a stop with a dramatic wobble that brought Hansel up close beside him.
“I almost fell straight in,” Gerhardt laughed, boots squelching in the mud of a wide stream. “But never fear. We’re saved!”
Hansel surveyed the deep and babbling stream. “I’m not sure we should—”
But Gerhardt had already dropped straight to his knees, and was drinking deep from the fresh and flowing water.
Tentatively, Hansel knelt down beside him. “How does it taste?”
“Like freedom, Hansel. Like we’re out and we never have to worry another day in our lives.”
“Like you can taste the poisonous waste of a tanning factory from upstream?” Hansel half joked.
With a coy smile, “Actually, no. So let’s head downstream, shall we? If there’s nothing to sense from upstream, downstream must be the way to civilisation.”
“Unless we’re just too far down for you to taste dead animals and dye,” Hansel countered. “Perhaps upstream leads to a mightier river, and we’d be better off following that?”
