Pale leather boots came into view first, tightly cinched around slender ankles. The hem of a forest-green cloak brushed brown leggings covered by the edge of a tunic embroidered with leaves. A thick leather belt was cinched over the tunic, holding a finely tooled belt pouch and a wickedly sharp dagger.
The person rounded the final step, and Hayden was unsurprised to see it was a woman. Her pale hair at first made him think she was a crone, but the face beneath the white-gold crown of braids was that of a younger woman. Pale blue eyes regarded him from a finely boned face, her nose long and straight, her chin pointed and stubborn looking. She did not smile. Indeed, there was something sad in her expression, as though she was deeply sorry for their presence.
“Who are you, strangers, that eat so freely of my abode?” she asked in a cold voice.
Hayden slipped his dagger back in its sheath, then bowed, as best he could manage on the narrow stairs. “Forgive us, lady. We were lost in the forest, and hunger overcame us.”
Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward almost imperceptibly, as if preparing to rush down upon them. Squaring his shoulders, he rested his fingers on the handle of his dagger. He didn't want to fight this woman, but he would do anything to keep Gracie safe.
Her eyes flicked down to his weapon and her stance eased, though her expression remained grim. “I cannot forgive you. There is a price for your transgression.”
Hayden felt his sister lean over to peer past his shoulder.
“But we have no money,” she said.
The woman's gaze shifted to Gracie. “Then you must pay another way.”
A warning tingled down his spine. He stared at the pale-haired figure above him. “And what might that be?”
Her lips flattened into a frown. “You are bound here as my servants, for a year and a day.”
Hayden heard the darkness beneath her words. “A year and a day. What happens after that?”
The sorrow in her expression intensified, and her gaze slid away from his. “Then you will be free of me.”
The words held a weight of meaning—none of it good.
Gracie set a slim hand on his shoulder. “We should leave now,” she said in a quiet voice.
The woman laughed, a single hard sound. “Try, if you like. But once you pass through the barrier, you cannot get out again.”
“The barrier?” he asked.
“Oh,” Gracie said softly. “Where we stepped through the blue glow. Don’t you remember?”
He gave a single, sharp nod, regretting the moment he’d let his sister lead the way. Now they were, apparently, trapped. Not that he’d take the woman’s word for it.
“Who are you?” he demanded, though there could only be one answer.
“The Witch of the Woods.” Her face grew hard and a sudden wind whipped the branches of the oak tree, tearing petals off the flowers.
“You don’t… look like a witch,” Gracie said hesitantly.
As quickly as it had come, the witch’s expression eased. The wind subsided, and overhead a bird let out a single, low whistle. A moment later, a magpie glided down to perch on the railing next to the witch. It cocked its head, regarding them.
“Hello,” Gracie said.
It responded with a squawk, taking off again in a flurry of black and white feathers.
“Who was that?” Gracie asked.
“Merro,” the witch said. “My familiar. Come. I have food and drink for you, and then you may rest.”
She turned and began ascending the stairs, her green cloak flaring out behind her. Hayden exchanged a look with his sister.
“I’m not sure we should follow her,” he said quietly, though his stomach growled in protest. “It’s dangerous to eat a witch’s food.”
“We already did,” Gracie pointed out. “That’s what got us in trouble.”
“Maybe. Or maybe just entering her realm did.” With a shiver of foreboding, he recalled how the wolves had driven them forward into the deep heart of the forest.
“I’m hungry, though.” There was a piteous note in her voice. “Besides, she hasn’t hurt us.”
“Yet. Don't forget, we've been cursed to stay with her for a year and a day.”
He suspected from the witch's words that some dire fate awaited at the end of that time, though he didn't say as much to Gracie. He hoped she hadn’t caught that implication. Frowning, he glanced at the ground a dozen feet below. Did the bones of other unfortunate travelers enrich the soil beneath the witch's oak?
His sister stepped forward and set a hand on his arm. “It's not like we have any choice.”
She pushed past him before he could stop her and headed up the stairs. Shaking his head, he followed. The staircase wound around and around the oak, and soon wonder displaced his dark thoughts.
Their life in the cottage had been a hard one, filled with endless work and little reward. But here, abundance sprang from the branches of the tree. Every few steps, he noticed a new fruit or flower or vegetable growing, all intertwined together. It reminded him again of his mother's herb garden, and a pang shot through his heart at the memory.
Most of the time he was able to banish thoughts of her. Losing Mama was a wound he'd been determined to ignore, especially when his baby sister had needed him. But sometimes, in the quiet of the forest, he closed his eyes and tried to recall her smile and the sound of her voice.
Now that Gracie was older, he'd noticed how much like their mother she was beginning to look. Had their father seen it, too? Was this why he’d been so willing to abandon them both in the forest, to remove that painful reminder of the past?
Around the next curve of the staircase, they encountered an angular wall with a round window set high overhead. A few steps later they reached a tall door, standing open to the elements. Gracie hesitated on the doorstep and Hayden caught up to her. Together, they peered into the witch's house.
It was a large, single room with windows on all sides. A colorful rag rug covered most of the pale wood floor, and a large worktable was pushed against one of the sloping walls. Opposite the table was a kitchen area, with a small hearth, counters, and shelves filled with jars of preserved food. Pots and pans hung from the low ceiling, along with bunches of dried herbs and strings of garlic and onion. His stomach growled again at the sight.
There was no sign of the pale-haired witch, but at the far end of the room he glimpsed another serpentine stairway curling into the upper branches of the tree. Taking a step back, he tipped his face up to stare into the branches spreading high overhead. Now that he knew what to look for, he could make out a series of curve-edged structures ascending into the tree.
A slight movement behind him, a displacement of air, made him whirl. The witch had materialized on the steps below. She gave him a look, one brow raised.
“I see you are curious about my home,” she said.
“Since it’s to be our prison for the next year and a day, yes.” He wouldn’t let her forget they were her unwilling guests.
“It's not my fault you so rudely plundered my garden.” She glanced upward. “Above you are my workshops and storage rooms.”
“And do you perch at the very top of the tree, like some kind of vulture?”
Gracie poked him in the ribs. “Don’t insult her,” she said quietly. “If we're truly stuck here, it would be better not to make her our enemy.”
The witch’s cold blue eyes bored into his. “It is not for you to judge who, or what, I am. My rooms are forbidden to you, except for this common area. You and your sister will be given your own sleeping rooms.”
“How do you know she's my sister?”
She gave him a pitying glance. “The two of you look much alike, but even more than that, I can sense the shared blood beating in your veins. What names do you call yourselves?”
He was reluctant to tell her. In the old tales, names had power. But Gracie ducked under his arm and fearlessly faced the witch.
“I'm Gracie,” she said. “And this is Hayden. What is your name?”
The witch's gaze flicked to his sister. “You may call me Nissa.”
Nissa. He tasted the sound against his tongue. It was a name he'd never heard before. But then again, he’d never encountered any woman like this strange Witch of the Woods.
One moment she seemed full of strange power, the next, she seemed the saddest person he’d ever met. He didn’t know whether to be afraid of her, or try to comfort her.
But that was a foolish notion. He shook his head at himself. If he and Gracie were to survive whatever happened in a year and a day, he couldn't afford to let down his guard.
“The soup’s ready.” Nissa motioned for them to go into the common room. “Unless you prefer to eat it cold?”
“Not me.” Gracie glanced at him. “I’m starving.”
They both were, quite literally. He turned and went inside.
Whatever the future held, he and his sister needed to put more meat on their bones and regain their strength. Once they did, he intended to test the limits of the witch’s power, and cross the barrier. But for now, remaining in her strange, enchanted home was a better fate than wandering, lost and hungry, in the winter woods.