Gretel: A Fairytale Retold Read online

  Gretel

  A Fairytale Retold

  Niamh Murphy

  Published by NIM Publishing, 2013.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are

  entirely coincidental.

  GRETEL

  First edition. July 4, 2013.

  Copyright © 2013 Niamh Murphy.

  Written by Niamh Murphy.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Wolf Chase

  The Fortress

  River, Oak, Hill, Farm

  Witch

  A New Beginning

  The Way Back

  Further Reading: Dragon Essence

  Also By Niamh Murphy

  About the Author

  For Louise...

  Wolf Chase

  Gretel caught only glimpses of them.

  Taut, spectral bodies, dark shadows, darting in and out of the trees all

  around them, surrounding them, but even as they closed in, she continued to

  run.

  The ground was frozen hard and each footfall reverberated through her

  body. Pain seared through her arm and shoulder as Hans pulled her along,

  twisting this way and that as he navigated between the bare, black trees.

  Her body was cold to the bone and her limbs were numb with fatigue

  and hunger. She was struggling to keep moving, struggling to force her

  muscles to do what she needed. Hans held her tightly, she knew he’d never

  let go, never abandon her in the woods, but her speed was nothing

  compared to his. The only thing that kept her going was the fear of those

  teeth, those eyes, those demon-like howls, just an arm’s reach away.

  Suddenly she fell.

  Her foot caught on a fallen branch and her body was yanked from

  beneath her. She let out a scream as she tumbled to the earth.

  “Gretel!” Hans turned to pull her up, as a shadow, a shadow with teeth

  and claws, leapt from the trees.

  Hans howled with pain as the wolf tore into his leg. Gretel screamed:

  she could do nothing but watch. He kicked the beast away, but it turned to

  pounce again, the rest of its pack ready to follow and make the kill.

  But there was a sudden, heavy thud. The wolf yelped and twisted its

  body as it fell to the ground, an axe buried deep in its neck.

  Gretel stared at it. The rest of the wolf pack looked to the woods,

  backing away. They were wary, but still eager to claim their prize.

  Gretel turned, searching the dark, dense forest for the axe thrower. She

  gasped when she saw, just a few paces away, a woman.

  She was tall, imposing, draped in furs, with dark hair and darker eyes.

  She was a wild woman, staring down at the wolves as if she were their

  queen.

  Gretel had never seen anyone like her, except in nightmares, dreams

  brought about by horrid tales of the beasts lurking in the woods: banshees,

  witches, fey. All the dark creatures that lurked in the forest, the creatures

  that were known to steal people away, to imprison them, enslave them, or

  worse.

  In that instant, Gretel didn’t know which to be more fearful of, the

  wolves or the woman.

  Suddenly the woman snarled and made to run at the wolves, ending the

  stand-off as the pack turned and disappeared into the forest. Gretel felt the

  urge to run with them.

  But as soon as the wolves were out of sight, the woman’s manner

  changed. Her face softened, she turned to look at Gretel and offered a gentle

  smile, a smile that Gretel couldn’t help but return.

  “They won’t be back here tonight,” she said. Her voice was rich and

  kind, but her words were firm. “You shouldn’t have run,” she continued.

  “They will only chase if you run.”

  “What would you have had us do?” snarled Hans.

  Gretel had almost forgotten he was there, crouched on the frosted

  ground, clutching his leg as blood oozed from the fresh wound.

  “Stand still while they tore the flesh from our bones?”

  “How bad is it?” the woman asked, ignoring his slight.

  “It will heal,” he replied, although it was through gritted teeth and

  Gretel knew he was in need of help. She reached forward to take a look, but

  he threw her off. “Don’t fuss!” he hissed.

  “Can you walk?” the woman asked.

  “I can manage.” As if to prove his point he attempted to stand, but his

  pale face betrayed his pain.

  “Where are you heading?”

  Hans and Gretel looked at each other. They weren’t heading anywhere.

  They had no destination in mind. They just needed to find a place with

  food, and perhaps some warmth.

  It had been two days since their last meal, and that had been little more

  than a handful of grain between them. They were half-starved and Gretel

  knew it wouldn’t be long before neither of them could walk another step

  and there would be nothing they could do to stop the wolves tearing out

  their throats.

  They had suffered through bad winters before, but never one this hard

  and this long. It seemed as if the spring would never return.

  They had grown up in a village much further north. It had never been

  easy there. They’d had good harvests and bad, cold winters and long, warm

  summers. They had always managed to harvest enough to get through and

  any surplus they had would be stored, in case of a long winter.

  Then, three years ago, they’d had a bad harvest. The winter had been

  hard, but they had managed. Then the following harvest had been bad

  again. They’d lost a lot of livestock in the winter, many of the old or weaker

  villagers simply didn’t make it through, and people said it was the hardest

  winter in living memory.

  But then the next harvest was even worse. There were simply no

  reserves: many of the villagers were still starving from the winter, even the

  wealthiest farmers were losing animals, and it came to a time when there

  just wasn’t enough to go around. It was then that Hans and Gretel were

  forced to leave the village, and the people they had known all their lives, in

  the hope that there would be work and food in the south.

  Many people had thought the same thing: entire villages lay

  abandoned and they were forced to travel further south than they had ever

  even heard of. At each farmstead they crossed they were greeted with the

  same story: no food and no work. When they did manage to find work for a

  day or so, it was gruelling, back-breaking labour, only serving to make them

  hungrier, and as Gretel received just half the pay that Hans did, it felt as

  though they were travelling ever closer to starvation.

  They had taken to the woods in the hope of winter foraging and

  poaching, but had been there two days without luck. The trees were bare

  and silent. There were no birds or any other animals they could eat, the

  rivers hardly ran, just a trickle of water and empty of fish. They had

  counted themselves lucky for having avoided
bandits but then a single

  piercing howl had told them why. With the last ounce of their strength they

  had run for their lives and now it seemed they could go no further.

  “Is there a village nearby?” Hans asked.

  “Seven miles or so west,” the woman replied.

  At the thought of walking another step Gretel felt ill. She was so weak

  and tired that she wanted to sleep amongst the leaves and broken branches

  where she had fallen, and never wake again. She knew Hans would never

  make it far either, not with his wound, oozing fresh blood as they spoke.

  “Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” the woman asked.

  “No,” Gretel said quickly.

  She knew Hans would lie and she wasn’t willing to walk any further

  without rest. The thought of spending another night in the woods made her

  want to cry with exhaustion and misery. If this woman was aware of even a

  cowshed or a hovel where they could stay, then she was willing to take it.

  The woman looked at them long and hard, her jaw set firm. Gretel felt

  she was weighing them up, considering whether or not she should trust

  these strangers, whether she should help them and risk them taking

  everything she had, or if she should leave them to certain death in the

  forest.

  The woman looked like someone who would not be made a fool of,

  she was not to be trifled with, her features were strong, her eyes narrowed

  into a frown. Yet Gretel felt sure that there was a kindness in her manner.

  She desperately hoped the woman would see beyond their vagrancy and

  offer them the help that they so urgently needed. Gretel willed her, with all

  her might, to offer help, to tell them where they could stay, somewhere safe,

  somewhere Hans could heal and they wouldn’t fall prey to the wolves.

  “You can come with me,” she said finally.

  Gretel’s heart leapt. She hoped she would be led somewhere warm and

  safe, where she could sleep soundly, just for one night. She also hoped,

  dearly hoped, there would be food.

  “No,” said Hans, suddenly. “You have done enough. We can ask no

  more of you.”

  Gretel was aghast, betrayed by his pride. “Hans!” she said. “We have

  no choice!”

  He looked at her angrily. “We can ask for no more,” he hissed through

  clenched teeth, both anger and pain making him more fearsome than usual.

  “And what would you have us do? Wait for the wolves? At least they

  won’t go hungry.”

  “We will go to the village, it is but seven miles and we have walked

  further than that today already.”

  “No,” Gretel said, more pleading than angry. “I can go no further, I

  need rest, please, Hans.”

  “You will come with me to the village,” he said firmly.

  “You won’t make it, Hans! You can barely stand, let alone run if we

  are attacked again.”

  “Then we will get to the village on the morrow.”

  “We will die if we stay in the woods again. Let us at least take this

  woman’s kind offer, just for one night.”

  Hans looked from Gretel to the woman. He tried to stand again but as

  he leaned hard against a tree and tried stretching his calf, he winced in pain

  and fresh blood seeped out. He shook his head angrily and looked away

  from them both.

  “One night,” he said, and Gretel knew that decision went against every

  ounce of his being.

  “Thank you,” she said, relieved. If he’d insisted, she would never have

  been able to leave his side, even if it meant risking the forest at night again.

  Gretel turned to the woman who had been silently watching the two of

  them, waiting patiently for them to decide if they would take her up on her

  generosity. As Gretel looked at her dark, watchful eyes, she felt an equal

  trace of fear and excitement. Something about this woman, this strange

  woman of the forest, made her heart beat faster and the hairs on the back of

  her neck stand on end. She was pleased to have the chance to learn more of

  her, even if for only a few hours, but she thought she ought to be cautious.

  “Can you show us a place to rest?” she asked, trying to suppress the

  desire for blankets and broth, knowing well that she might be offered

  nothing but the corner of a barn.

  The woman nodded and walked over to the corpse of the wolf, still

  lying on the ground. She pulled the axe from its neck and looked to Gretel.

  “You carry your husband, and I’ll carry the wolf,” she said.

  “He’s not my husband,” Gretel said quickly.

  “I’m her brother,” Hans corrected.

  “Either way, I’ll carry the wolf.”

  The Fortress

  To Gretel’s surprise, the woman had little trouble lifting the great dog from

  the ground and slinging it over her shoulder.

  She looked down at Hans and Gretel as she passed. “I won’t wait,” she

  said and marched off through the woods.

  Gretel heaved her aching body off the ground and went to lend a hand

  to her brother.

  “I can manage,” he said, shakily moving forward a few paces, limping

  heavily. But it was just a few steps before he buckled and Gretel rushed

  forward to catch him, propping him up and taking almost his full weight on

  her shoulder. They said nothing to each other as they made their way slowly

  through the woods.

  The woman stayed true to her word. She did not wait and her pace was

  remarkably quick for someone carrying such a dead weight. There were a

  few times when Gretel thought they would lose sight of her and the smell of

  blood would bring the wolves swiftly back. Each time her figure

  disappeared into the thick trees, Gretel felt the panic rising in her stomach,

  but within seconds she would catch sight of her again, just up ahead,

  steadily heading east.

  They stumbled forward and eventually came to the side of a deep

  ditch. They managed to scramble down, but Gretel felt sure that they

  wouldn’t have the strength to haul themselves out the other side. She started

  to worry that they would take too long to find the woman again, and they

  would be abandoned in the forest with the sun falling ever lower in the sky.

  They tried to clamber up the bank, the hard, cold earth providing

  nothing for them to grip, their thin leather shoes sliding against the frozen

  mud. Hans stumbled forward and let out a cry as the impact ricocheted up

  his wounded leg.

  For a moment, panic overwhelmed her, but the feeling was gone in an

  instant. They were so close to shelter, so close to being safe that she

  couldn’t fail her brother now. Gretel let go of Hans and crawled up the

  bank, clawing at the hard earth. She found a tree root and grabbed hold of

  it, pulling herself up. The moment she was over the top she turned to help

  Hans. Taking hold of his arm, she hoisted him up. He struggled to get a

  foothold with his uninjured leg, but Gretel pulled with all her strength and

  he eventually crawled over the side of the bank and they sat, exhausted and

  trying to get their breath back.

  “It’s a fortress!” Hans gasped suddenly, taking in the view behind

  Gretel.

  She turned to see that the di
tch surrounded a small, wooden fort,

  carefully hidden amongst the trees.

  There were wooden stakes driven into the ground, sharpened and

  pointed outwards, encircling a fence, taller than a man, which ran all the

  way around the perimeter.

  The woman was nowhere to be seen, and Gretel could only assume

  that this was where she had intended to lead them. She scrambled to her

  feet, helping Hans to stand and together they edged around the fence,

  hoping there was a way in. They came to an open gate and, with a cautious

  look at each other, they went in.

  The fort enclosed a few ramshackle stone buildings, weeds grew in the

  cracks of the walls and the empty, shutterless windows were gaping black

  holes, like open wounds torn into their sides. They surrounded a quaint

  cottage. Although it wasn’t large, Gretel had known families of a dozen or

  more squeezed into smaller. It was newly thatched and had a solid wooden

  door painted green, with shutters to match. A thin wisp of smoke drifted

  slowly out of the chimney and the garden, which should have been bare,

  had several rows of plants. Only the cold and the deathly silence, reminded

  them it was winter.

  “Go straight in.”

  The voice made Gretel jump. The woman had appeared from one of

  the outbuildings and was no longer carrying the wolf: she indicated the

  cottage before heading back to fasten the gates.

  Gretel helped Hans over the threshold: the moment she opened the

  door the heat hit her. She had become so used to the icy numbness of her

  flesh that she had forgotten how it felt to be warm.

  The cottage was simply furnished: a table, a few chairs, a door

  indicated another room and there were a few storage jars lined up against

  the wall, but Gretel’s attention was immediately drawn to the cooking pot

  simmering over the fire. Her body cried out for food, her stomach twisted in

  on itself in anticipation of a meal and she wanted to rush forward and pour

  whatever was in that pot down her throat.

  She forced herself to remain civil and helped Hans into a chair by the

  fire.

  “I’m not sure I like this,” he whispered nervously.

  “It’s warm and safe, what more could you ask for?” She was surprised

  that he could be nervous of what she found so delightful.

  “We don’t know who that woman is,” he said, with one eye on the