Page 36 of Hansel and Gerhardt
He moved a little nearer, then a little nearer again, eyes darting from forest floor to tree mouth. He leant down to grasp a long stick, bolstered by Hansel’s strong presence a step behind. Crouching, he stretched the stick out long, stabbing at a fresh puddle.
His shaking hand reeled the prize in, and he lifted the tip to the light, where it glistened red and moist. Touching an index finger to the substance, he felt the texture with his thumb, thinning a gut-curdling line of scarlet. “It’s blood.”
“Get back.” Hansel had already wrenched him to his feet, slowing his stumble with a hand around his biceps.
Gerhardt threw the stick down and assessed their predicament anew. “Think we can climb over those vines?”
“We’ll have to.” With that, Hansel moved back the way they’d come. He closed a hand around a vine, then cried out in pain, reeling back.
Gerhardt ran to him, one hand around his waist as Hansel pulled his palm up to the light. A line of red droplets ran across his skin, ten piercings from long and sharp thorns, hitherto unseen, that shone briefly in the light before retracting back into the plant.
Gerhardt took up another stick, brought it down hard on the vine, and found it stabbed through so violently that it cracked in two. He retreated to the centre of the clearing, pulling Hansel with him. “This is not it. This is not where we part. Hansel, there has to be a way.”
But Hansel’s wide shoulders squared with the tree, eyes on the darkness beyond. “That’s the only free path.”
Gerhardt moved against him, shoulder to biceps. “I’m quite sure it wants to eat us.”
“And water its roots with our blood? I can see that.” A shiver took Gerhardt at the statement of the obvious. It didn’t help to hear it out loud. But Hansel then reflected, “I wish we still had that hare.”
“Yes. We could chuck him in and see what happens.”
Hansel’s eyes snapped across. “I meant we could ask him about it.”
“Oh, yes!” Gerhardt blushed. “Yes, that too.” Hansel’s brow ruffled a little deeper, so Gerhardt cleared his throat then called to the tree, “Hello there, old tree.” An eyebrow lowered severely, and he hissed across at Hansel, “Everything else in this forest speaks. Why not this tree?”
Hansel gave a silent shrug, then shifted his stance, the meat over his shoulder weighing heavier by the minute.
“What do you want?” Gerhardt called across. “Besides us… Would you like… Is there some way you’ll let us pass safely?”
Deep silence, with a hint of humiliation.
“Fine. It doesn’t speak,” Gerhardt muttered.
“The meat,” said Hansel, splatting his cargo to the ground.
Gerhardt dropped with it, slapping a protective hand across the furry flank. “Don’t you dare.”
“It wants meat!”
“We’ll starve!”
The look in Gerhardt’s eye turned from fear to panic, grounding Hansel, making him reach for Gerhardt’s arm. “It’s only a day or two.”
“No,” said Gerhardt, turning away from him to walk a short pace of the clearing. “I can’t do it.”
“As soon as we get to the tower—”
“You don’t know what it is!” Casting a hand up towards the impenetrable canopy, “You don’t even know what direction we’re moving anymore.”
“I believe we’re going the right way.”
“And what if we’re not? What if we meet more of these things? What if they throw us off, and we’re lost, and—”
“We’re going to be okay.”
“We’re not going to be o-fucking-kay! Not if we give our food away.” He let out an angry breath and made again for the vines that criss-crossed their way out. He thrust his torch out and held the burning flame beneath.
Nothing.
