Page 8 of The Pebbled Path

His brows pulled together in confusion. “I thought we might enjoy a bit of additional time with one another.”

She could not like the idea of him coming so close to the cottage. The enchantress had laid some kind of trap for Papa. Gretel still remembered the way he had suddenly veered from the route they’d determined to take. Nothing she said had persuaded him to continue down the road to town. She felt certain that, should Hansel come too close, the same spell would lure him into certain danger. Though Gretel managed to bargain for Papa’s life, she had nothing to offer that might save Hansel’s.

“I would very much like to show you the stand of poplar trees I told you about a few days ago.” She hoped the abrupt change of topic did not raise his suspicions too greatly. “They are closer to where we intended to meet. We will have a little bit of a walk.”

Hansel carried a bag of tools slung over one shoulder. He offered her his free hand, something he’d done more and more often of late. Happily, she accepted it. He had, over the many weeks of their acquaintance, brought such light into her life. He had shown her unending kindness. The tender flower she carefully held stood as such a simple but loving symbol of that kindness. Should harm befall him at the enchantress’s hand, Gretel did not think she would ever forgive herself.

She immersed herself in the joy of their time together in the poplar grove. They laughed. They shared thoughts and stories. At times, they simply sat in comfortable silence.

When the time came for her to depart, she did so by a roundabout path, which she ought to have done from the beginning. Her consistency had very nearly shown him the way to the cottage. That, she knew full well, was a dangerous thing.

The time had come to redouble her efforts to find the elusive spell book and put an end to the enchantress’s grip on her life and future.

Gretel arose early the next morning, long before the enchantress would rise, and set herself in front of the door to the unused bedchamber. The book she sought had to be in this room or the enchantress’s; there was no other possibility. But how did one enter a locked room without the key?

The door was made of a heavy wood, far too solid for her to break open. Even if she possessed the size and strength for that feat, the enchantress would be sure to hear. Gretel had already examined the outside of the house and knew the bedchamber window was shuttered with the same impenetrable wood.

Oh, there must be a way inside. She leaned against the door, desperately thinking. Though she had done so dozens and dozens of times without success, Gretel tested the handle once more. To her great shock, the door gave way, swinging open on silent hinges. A never-opened door to an unused room ought to squeal, to protest in some way, but this one did not. The door and room beyond were not as neglected as they first appeared.

The space beyond was dark, the window entirely covered by the thick shutters. She fetched a candle, lit it, and stepped tentatively inside. The room was not empty, though only just. A narrow cot was pushed against the far wall. In the center of the room was a long wooden table, on top of which sat an iron cauldron. Jars of different sizes containing a variety of unidentifiable things—some solid, some liquid, some appearing to be little more than colored smoke—lined the room.

But the thing in the very middle of the table caught and held her attention: a seemingly ancient leather-bound book. She tiptoed closer and read the gold lettering: Sundry Magical Enchantments.

The spell book, at last.

She opened it, her heart pounding. Page after page of spells and potions—some designed to transform ordinary objects into other objects, some designed to impact people’s beliefs and actions. She paused at a potion entitled Artificial Beauty. By taking the potion, one would appear irresistibly attractive to a chosen group of people. Adjusting the ingredients allowed the potion maker to decide who would be affected by it. Among the many unsettling options was “children under the age of ten.” Gretel’s stomach turned at that. Another option was “unattached men.” That was likely the variation the enchantress used. It had worked on Papa, who had been a widower for many years and had no romantic attachments. He had described the enchantress as the most beautiful woman in all the world. Gretel, on the other hand, never saw anything but the green-skinned, silver-haired, claw-handed hag she truly was. No instructions were included for undoing the enchantment.

Gretel turned page after page, hoping to find something that might pertain to breaking the spell binding her to the enchantress. The language was old, difficult to decipher. She could not simply skim over the book’s contents. Soon enough, the enchantress would awaken and her time with the book would come to an end.

Her search revealed a spell entitled Allurements, a means of enchanting small objects with the ability to lure a person in a given direction. This, no doubt, was the means by which the enchantress had enticed Papa off the road he’d intended to take. Something near the fork in the road had pulled him toward the cottage. The same fate would, she felt certain, befall Hansel should he draw too close.

The book contained instructions for creating “determents,” which would push a person away rather than entice them nearer. These items were specific to an individual. If she could create ones for Hansel in particular and lay them in such a way as to lead him away from those placed by the enchantress, then he would be safe. She need not worry that he might follow her to his doom.

The enchantress’s loud, sleep-heavy breathing continued in the next bedchamber. Gretel yet had time to save her dear Hansel. She gathered the items for the potion. Amongst the ingredients was “something bestowed upon the potion maker by the one who is to feel the push of the determents.” She pulled from her apron pocket the small wildflower he’d given her, which she had pressed beneath a heavy pot in the kitchen overnight, and dropped it in with the other ingredients.

Lastly, she needed something to carry the determent, something to place along the path she wished him to take, the one leading away from here.

Whatever they were, the determents needed to draw little attention to themselves, lest someone remove them. What was unlikely to draw notice in a forest? Leaves, perhaps? No. One gust of wind would undo her efforts. Breadcrumbs? No. Birds would most certainly eat them. Pebbles, perhaps?

Yes. Pebbles would be perfect.

She hurried from the cottage and grabbed two handfuls of pebbles, returning with all possible speed. They were added to the concoction, which, to her relief, did not require heating. To drag the cauldron from the room and to the fireplace beyond would make too much noise.

She stirred according to the directions. The contents swirled long after she stopped. Wafts of steam lifted from within, dissipating in colorless, odorless clouds. Long moments passed before the mists stopped. She peeked inside the cauldron. Only the pebbles remained. Nothing about them looked different. Had the enchantment worked?

She scooped them from the cauldron and into her apron pockets. She checked once more that everything had been returned exactly to its previous place. The room appeared as she had found it. Though the enchantress’s snores continued buzzing beyond her door, Gretel did not know how much longer she would sleep. With all set to rights, Gretel slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. She pulled the pebbles from her pockets and tied them inside a rag, hurrying down to the basement. She set the tied rag beneath the folded blanket on the floor, then rushed up once more.

The enchantress’s snores had stopped. She would emerge at any moment. Gretel grabbed the broom and began to sweep. She kept herself calm as her mistress stepped from her room. Gretel didn’t look back. Nothing was said between them.

The remainder of the day passed as most did. The enchantress was as unhappy as ever, as difficult. Gretel was as quiet as always.

She settled into her bed that night, nervous but hopeful. She would go to the forest early and place the pebbles along the path leading away from the enchantress’s allurements.

Hansel would be safe. Just as her papa was. Even if she never found a way to free herself, she would do all she could to save them.

Chapter Five

Hansel’s woodworking and crafts were coming along nicely. Gretel wasn’t able to meet him as often as she once had. He saw her only twice per week. He worked hard in the days between, building furniture and cabinets and carving decorative pieces for sale. He also ventured into the forest beyond the paths and meadows they traversed together, looking for new and interesting varieties of wood and hoping to find the place where she lived.