A necklace, a ring, a firstborn child. The price of freedom is always high.

There was a thud, and the witch slowly opened her eyes, not even sure she'd heard something. A moment passed with no apparent danger, and she rolled over in bed, tugging the blanket around her again.

Then there was another, and she sat up, staring at her door. "You can just come in, Red. There's no need to knock."

The door creaked open then, and Chrysanth frowned, trying to figure out who it was with her weak eyes.

"Red?" A cold voice sneered and the witch felt her heart squeeze. She saw him now, short in stature, wearing pointed boots and polished clothes. His skin was smooth and perfect, and when they'd first met, she'd seen him as a saviour, or good fairy from myth.

Now all she felt was dread at hearing his unforgettable voice again. "I had to name her something." She wrung her hands then, climbing out of bed. "What are you doing here? I thought-you didn't come after I first had her, so I thought you'd-"

"I never forget a debt, witchling." He grinned, confirming the witch's worst nightmare. "Normally she'd be gone before you knew what happened, but I'm feeling generous for an old friend."

"She's asleep." Chrysanth said helplessly, "Can't you wait 'till morning? Why don't you come into the kitchen with me? I'm being a bad host." And she went swiftly from her room to the kitchen, reaching for her flowers.

They murmured to her soothingly as she ran her fingers over them, telling her about their poisonous natures, or their cures for maladies.

She had minutes before her presumptuous, uninvited guest came into the kitchen, minutes to get the tea going and smear the bread with Belladonna berries.

His shoes clicked against the floor as he entered. "I taught you to spin hay into gold, and you live in this hovel? Did you think that not becoming a Queen could keep me from taking her?" His voice was sly, and Chrysanth turned with a practiced smile.

"The last time someone said I could turn straw into gold, I was almost executed." Chrysanth shared a knowing smile with the imp. "Why come now? Years later?"

The creature sighed mightily, leaping up to sit on the edge of her table. "I had no need for Red yet, and nowhere to put her until then." A cruel grin. "So I left her in your excellent care, but no longer must you worry about her."

Chrysanth ground her teeth furiously. "Can't I give you something else?" She placed the bread on a plate next to him, placing a small cup of butter there too.

The unnamed monster tilted his head to the side, "Careful, witch. Don't forget who gave your powers, and freed from a devious father and a greedy husband." He picked up the bread and Chrysanth forced herself to show no reaction. "Taught you the secret language of the flowers." The bread burst into flames in his hand.

She'd crossed a line, broken a law of their world. "Can't we make another deal?" Chrysanth asked, clenching her fists. "I'll give-"

"Your secondborn?" Creature whined mockingly, "Nice try. But you've angered me with the bread, don't you know you aren't supposed to kill guests? No. Come morning, you must send the girl into the woods. Tell her whatever you'd like."

"The woods?" Chrysanth echoed, feeling the burn of tears. "You just want her to die?"

"Even deaths serve a purpose. Now, now, you knew what you were bartering when you gave me your firstborn, and unless you dream up my name before morning, the girl still belongs to me." Creature drummed his long nails on the wood, swinging his childishly short legs.

"So she is going to die?" Chrysanth held back a sob, ignoring the tea as it boiled and bubbled over.

"I don't know. I have two candidates with whom I made deals: a wolf and an old witch. Whoever gets her first gets to keep her, and you better pray it's the wolf." Creature clicked his fingers and the remnants of the tea appeared in a cup in his hand.

"I should have never made that deal," Chrysanth muttered, itching to grab a knife and be done with this monster. What the hell was his name?

Creature cackled. "One way or another, destiny would have made you make that deal, I promise you that. Witch powers don't exactly come from nowhere."

Chrysanth frowned. "Do you owe the witch or the wolf?"

"They did me favours, now I must do them favours." Creature shrugged, and when her eyes focused better, she saw her ring and necklace on him.

"If they didn't exist anymore, would you still have to pay?" Chrysanth demanded sharply.

"My, my, are you really the snivelling brat I met in the dungeons?" Creature cackled, clapping his hands. "I suppose not. But the wolf doesn't eat bread, and the witch lives in a hut that walks on the legs of a bird. Finding them is going to be hard for a witch whose only skill is playing with flowers."

Chrysanth breathed in carefully, feeling her hands shake. "But if they're all gone, I get to keep her?"

Creature smiled broadly. "Until the next deal we make."

"I'll send her out in the morning," Chrysanth mumbled, picking up her coat and heading for the door.

Creature giggled. "I wonder if you'll succeed, little witch." Then he disappeared in gust of wind, and the Miller's daughter swung open the door, running into the night.

She stumbled through the darkness, letting the angered trees guide her to the house of a woodcutter. She hit the door with muddy hands, letting the full force of her panic show on her face.

"M'lady?" The gruff, surprised-looking neighbour asked, opening the door. "Is everything alright?"

"My daughter is missing." Chrysanth cried, pointing into the forests. "Please help me. She was playing outside while I weaved, and never returned."

"What? Madam, the woods are no place for a child!" The woodcutter wiped at his eyes, going into the house to fetch his coat and axe. "Fear not, you go home in case she returns. I'll look for her, I promise."

"Thank you." Chrysanth felt raindrops as they plummeted from the sky and turned away, pretending to head home whilst going deeper into the woods.

There was no way to find the old witch, but there was a way to catch a wolf. She reached into a rabbit's burrow, picking up a sleeping kit. "From one mother, to another, I apologize." She whispered, going deep into the woods with the kit in hand.

Wolves were lured with moonlight and blood, old legends said, and the witch slit the kit's throat, smearing the silver-painted ground with it.

The wind washed through the forest, and a wolf appeared, eyes glowing in the darkness.

"Only the first of many gifts," Chrysanth said, doing her best to push down the fear. "There will be a child in these woods tomorrow, promised by a bargainer to you."

The wolf nodded, eyes glittering in understanding as the grasses conveyed the message.

"The Unknown one lied. The child is also promised to a witch that eats the flesh of children." Chrysanth's voice grew surer, she'd learned the art of persuasion from the best charmer in the world.

That was not part of our deal, the grasses hissed with the wolf's words.

"If you want the child for yourself, you must kill the witch first. Then the child is all yours." Chrysanth said, smiling calmly. "Do you by any chance, know the name of the one that promised you the child?"

I thank the witch for her advice, the wolf picked up the murdered kit in its mouth, teeth wet with blood as it spoke. But only Menschenkinder and Die Schönen bother with names. 

And with that, he left, and the witch slammed a hand against a tree. She shook with nausea, watching the forest around her lighten. 

What if the wolf didn't make it in time? What if the woodcutter didn't save her in time? 

She knew she couldn't follow Red's path through the forest. It was an ancient one, that didn't even know the language of the flowers and newer trees at the edge of the forest. It spoke only riddles and pathways that led to danger. 

When Red woke that morning, there was no way for Chrysanth to convey her fears to her little daughter. 

"Where does Grandma live?" Red chirped, bouncing on her heels as her mother tied her hood around her head. 

Where Chrysanth came from, people were born into red blankets and left in red shrouds. It was fitting that the child who had never belonged to her would leave in red. 

"Go straight down the path, okay? No wandering, Red." Chrysanth cupped the child's chin, forcing her to look. "No talking to strangers. Okay?"

"Okay, mama." Red brushed the hand away, giddily excited. She'd never been allowed to go anywhere and had been spoiled from Chrysanth's protectiveness and love. "Gramma will be so happy with my cookies." 

They were poison, in the event that the witch really did catch her. 

"Now remember Red, no eating them, okay? They're really nasty, only adults enjoy these cookies." Chrysanth insisted for the eightieth time. 

"Yes, mama. Can I go now?" 

Reluctantly, Chrysanth opened the door, watching Red eagerly race down the path. 

Then the forest closed behind her, blocking her from the witch's feeble eyes.