So terribly cold...

It was so terribly cold.  Snow was falling and it was almost dark.

How could the words that opened a fairy tale could so accurately describe my world in this moment?  The forest spread out before me, the treetops doing next to nothing to prevent the snow from reaching the forest floor.  What had I done to deserve this?  What could I have possibly done in my entire life to earn to be abducted from my bed and plopped in the forest?  I had no bedroll, no boots, to guard against the cold.  I had my flint –that was the only thing my abductors had let me bring –but what good was a firestarter against the wetness around me?

I cursed under my breath as I listened to the branches snapping under my feet.  I would freeze to death before the night was over if the wolves didn’t get to me first.  A series of howls echoed through the woods to remind me of their presence.  Were they as cold as I was?  Had the branches breaking as I stepped on them alerted those canine hunters to my location?  Movement out of the corner of my eye forced my head to twist to my left and a swaying branch in the distance.  My eyes narrowed.  Enough moonlight shun beneath the forest canopy for me to see a small shelter, long abandoned if my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.

Some kind of shelter over my head was better than nothing, better than dying from the chill or the predators desperate for an easy meal.  I would be the easiest of prey in my condition.  There was the smallest of chances there was enough wood and kindling to start a fire –something to scare away the wolves, the gods permitting.  I cursed under my breath.  Not since my childhood had I put faith in a heavenly being, not since my stepmother had abandoned me and my brother in the woods to die.  

But that was a nightmare I still longed to forget.  It also served as a reminder that I had survived the forest before.  I could do it again.  I shivered as I turned towards the shelter.  This time I had no witch to cook for me, nor did I have Hansel to guide me home.  My lower lip trembled at the thought of my brother.  How long had it been since that stranger had come to my father’s door to tell us of my brother’s murder?  I willed my tears not to fall, I was could enough as it was.  I pushed on, climbing over rotting tree logs, the damp moss turning my fingers into icicles.  A part of me feared I would never be warm again.  

As I climbed over one last log before reaching the cabin, I tried to remember if I had ever been warm in my life.  What did it feel like?  I shivered, hope forming in the pit of my stomach that I would find some dry wood and kindling to make a small fire.  The flames would keep the howling wolves at bay more than any door, if this wreck of a building even had one.  Nearing the shelter, I slowed my pace.  What if some animal had decided to make themselves home inside?  I had not thought about that.  The cold had stolen my sense, making me forget the nightmare I had endured with my brother those brutal days so long ago, in these very same woods.

I stumbled across the threshold, tripping over something I had not seen.  It caused me to fall onto the soft moss that carpeted the ground.  Memories of the gingerbread floors of the witch’s house assaulted me.  I gagged, then coughed until I vomited what was left of my dinner onto the moss in front of me.  I had adored gingerbread until that horrible experience.  My stepmother had made the best gingerbread that I had ever tasted.  Sometimes I still prayed that the woman still breathed to bake some more for me despite her ill treatment of me and my my brother.

It took all my strength to crawl around my vomit.  Somehow it felt colder in here than outside.  All I wanted to do was sleep but I knew if I didn’t start a fire first, I would certainly freeze.  Another wolf howl echoed through the woods.  This time a single howl, not the pack.  Had the alpha decided to scout ahead to see what prey it might be able to find to feed its pups.  Somehow I found my strength again, coming to my feet to gather a few scattered branches.  

The fireplace was still where I remembered.  A few scarred stumps of wood had been left behind from the last time a fire had been built there.  I tossed my branches on top before reaching into my dress pocket to pull out the flint.  My hands moved quickly to start the fire, as if they had a memory of their own.  After what my brother and I had endured in the woods all those years ago, our father had made sure that both of us knew some of the most basic survival skills.  

My lower lip began to tremble.  Those skills should have helped my brother survive, my mind argued in vain.  The soldiers who had reported my brother’s death to me and my father had been quite descriptive on what had become of my brother.  What a similar fate befall me alone in this forest?  I pushed the question aside as I gathered up larger logs to toss on my small fire.  I could wallow in my sorrow when I returned to my father’s empty cabin.  

I would survive this, the gods willing.  Perhaps this experience would be enough to convince me to join my mother’s sister in the village and do the things that were expected of a girl my age.  How could I?  I asked the question over and over as I curled up in front of the fire, rocking myself back and forth until the fire grew large enough to keep me warm.  Unlike the other girls in the village, I didn’t have a father or a brother anymore to advise me on marriage.

My brother’s death had been the final straw for my father.  His body could not take any more heartache.  Within months, he had died in his bed.  It had taken me days to venture up the strength to stumble into town for help.  The pleas of my aunt to join her in the village had begun even before my father had been buried.  Other villagers had joined their voices to hers.  I needed to grieve, I argued.  Years had passed and I was still grieving.  And here I was with no husband or children to notice my absence.

A single wolf howl pierced through the night.  Its closeness made me yelp.  I looked towards the fire, throwing another log upon it before I came to my feet.  I limped towards the remains of a window to look outside.  A lone wolf stood near the same spot where I had been standing when my attention had been drawn to the shelter.  It stared back at me.  Even with the distance that separated us, I could still make out the wolf’s eyes.  There was something familiar about them.  But how could that be?  I had never been this close to a wolf before in all of my life, and even then, I had only seen them from behind.

I took a step back from the window, tripping over another piece of debris inside the shelter.  I scrambled back to the fire, tossed another log upon the fire, and kept my eyes planted toward the window and the door.  For the first time, I noticed that there was still a door on its hinges.  How it had not fallen yet, I could not say.  The window was not big enough for the wolf to jump through, but if I could walk through that door, the wolf could do so quite easily.

Somehow I pushed myself to my feet, and using the light of the fire, I made it to the door without tripping over anything this time.  I took a moment to stare out the door, toward the wolf.  It had yet to move from where it stood.  It did shift its gaze to where I stood at the door.  I watched it blink.  I stared at it for a long moment.  It looked bigger than any dog I had ever seen.  We had had a shepard when I was small, and I did not remember that dog being this huge.

I shuddered before stepping back.  It took most of my strength to pull the door off the wall.  The hinges creaked and screamed as I pushed the door shut.  I whispered a prayer that this was enough protection against that wolf.  By the time I could push the door no further, I was breathing hard and sweating.  I hurried back to the fireplace and the small stack of wood that someone had left behind.  I doubted it would last me through the night.  If only I had been allowed to bring a blanket to guard me against the cold.

But for the moment I was safe, as safe as I could make myself under the circumstances.  I tossed a few more logs on the fire before pulling my hands inside my nightgown.  I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my cold fingers around my legs.  I would survive this, I promised myself.  I would make it back to the cabin.  Perhaps I would get a dog to protect me against another abduction.  My aunt would question my need for a dog.  Would she wonder if something had happened?  I could claim that the dog was simply a safety measure, couldn’t I?

A whimper escaped my lips as I closed my eyes.  I took a deep breath and let the warmth envelop me against the cold.  My next memory was of Hansel chasing me around the cabin instead of doing the chores our stepmother had assigned us.  It was the last happy memory I had before our father’s new wife had become more evil than the witch in the candy house.  The scene repeated itself, over and over, from the moment my brother first encouraged me to play his silly game until our stepmother stepped out of the cabin to beat us both for our behavior.  

A branch cracking under the weight of someone’s foot brought me out of my slumber.  Dawn had long since passed and the fire had gone out.  But I found that I was still warm, under a thick blanket.  I groaned as I slid my hands through the sleeves so I could push myself into a sitting position.  I yawned as I wiped my eyes.  I blinked several times to get used to the morning.

“Good morning, Gretel,” a familiar voice greeted me.

With a yelp, I twisted towards a bench behind me.  Sitting upon it was a face I had not seen in years, not since that night when my brother had announced that he was going to join the army.  “Hansel,” I whispered.  I rubbed my eyes.  Surely I was still asleep.  Certainly, I was still dreaming.  I had spent so many years cursing the gods for taking my brother from me that I swore that I would believe in them again if Hansel was returned to me.  I pushed myself into a standing position.

“But you’re dead,” I told him.

“So everyone needs to believe,” he answered as he came to his feet.

Before I could demand him to explain himself, I rushed into his arms.  He held me close to him, both of us in silence  –until I began to cry.  My brother had not died all those years ago and he had not saw fit to let us know he still breathed.  Our father might still be alive if he had known his son was still alive.

“Why?” I asked through my tears, with my head still buried in his chest.  “Why we told you were dead?”

My brother cradled me in his arms for a few seconds longer before he pushed me away to give me an answer.  The look in his eyes convinced me he knew I would find his words unacceptable.  He took a deep breath and began his tale –not at the beginning where most people would have started their explanations.

“You saw me last night,” he said.

“I only saw a wolf in the distance,” I told him.

“That was me, Gretel.”

“What?”

He bowed his head for a moment before raising his eyes to look me straight in the eyes.  “It happened after I joined the army.  I was assigned to several different units to see which one my superiors officers thought I best fit in with.  After several battles in a war against France, I was taken aside and told about this one unit.  Every soldier in that unit was a werewolf.  My performances in every battle made them think that I would fit into that unit.  I didn’t believe them at first, not until the unit’s commander officer transformed into a wolf in front of me.  They promised me the pay was much better, and that they would forward money to my family.  But there was one catch: we would be declared dead.”

“What money?  We never saw any!”

Hansel nodded.  “It went to mother’s sister.  I don’t know how she convinced it to be sent to her.  She’ll be dealt with, I promise you.”

“Why have you come, Hansel?  I've done fine.  I don’t need your help.”

Her brother smiled.  “I’m your brother.  It’s my job to look after you.  I’ve come to take you out of here, away from the bad memories that linger here.  I have earned a few privileges from my actions in the army.  You will have no more worries, ever.  No witches trying to eat you, no more evil stepmothers.  Every night you will be warm.  You will have a good life, Gretel.”

“I think I can handle that.”