Hansel and Daisy both turn to look behind themselves, and stare into the bank expression of a huntsman’s white porcelain mask.
‘Hansel Mudd, right?’ says the huntsman. ‘And Daisy Weaver?’
‘W…Wicker,’ manages Daisy. ‘But what… how?’
‘Oh, we’ve met before,’ says the huntsman calmly, ‘although we were all a bit distracted at the time. I was at the battle for Nearby. And I think it would be best for all of us if you were to come with me.’
9
The Cold Shoulder
‘OK,’ says Buttercup, ‘so… what do we do now?’
Gretel’s group has ‘stepped outside for a private chat’, a decision that almost all of them are already beginning to regret. Night has fallen, and brought with it a bitter wind, howling down from the mountains and blowing freezing droplets of rain into their eyes. Even Snow looks cold and miserable. Only Patience remains unperturbed by the wet and the cold, which simply blow straight through her. Instead, the Ghost is merely perturbed by the fact that their plan was just turned down flat and nobody’s sure what to do about that.
‘Well, we’ve still got our looks, I suppose,’ mutters Patience. ‘Jack, how do you fancy your chances of seducing all three of them in there to doing things our way?’
‘Can’t pretend it wouldn’t be a challenge.’ Jack manages a shivery grin. ‘I’d say about fifty-fifty?’
‘I’m not comfortable with using Jack as a handsome trap,’ Buttercup tells everyone seriously.
‘What, you think I need to bulk up first or something…?’
‘Gilde’s the only one who’s said no,’ says Trevor, buried under the neck of Buttercup’s cape. ‘Hex and Scarlett seem more amenable; they could still be talked into splitting away from her…’
‘Come off it,’ Snow replies. ‘You’ve seen both of them around Gilde, they’re terrified of her. They’re never going to go against what she says.’
‘But she’s just a little old lady,’ argues Trevor.
‘She’s ferocious,’ Snow tells him. ‘And a pain in the gooseberries.’
‘She’s probably just sad,’ attempts Buttercup, ‘and fed up. All those years shunned from human society just because she could talk to bears. Have you noticed the way she talks? She sounds like she’s in an old play.’
‘Buttercup,’ sighs Snow.
‘I’m just saying,’ Buttercup continues, ‘maybe if we stay, if we persist, if we show her kindness, and let her see how the plan can help her personally, as well as everyone else, I bet she’s a sweetheart deep down. Crotchety witches usually are.’
‘I’m not sure she wants help,’ says Snow. ‘Maybe she just wants to be angry.’
‘Whatever we decide to do, we should do it fast,’ says Gretel.
Patience nods in agreement. ‘The Citadel will be voting soon.’
‘And hibernation time must be any day now,’ Gretel adds. ‘If we’re going to make use of the bears, we need Gilde right now.’
‘Do we really need the bears?’ Jack asks. ‘If the plan is to sneak in and start a revolution through a whispering campaign, I’m not sure that bears are particularly good at any of those things.’
‘The bears and wolves would be back-up,’ Gretel says, ‘in case anything goes wrong.’
‘And how likely do you think it is that something could go wrong?’
Gretel just clears her throat.
‘Oh,’ says Jack.
There is a cold and miserable pause.
‘Maybe this was a bad idea,’ says Gretel. ‘We can ask my village for back-up instead…’
‘We need more witches,’ replies Snow sharply.
‘But we’ve already got an army and we’ve got a princess…’
‘Would you stop with the princess thing?’
Gretel blinks at Snow’s outburst. There is another chilly pause.
‘So, am I still going ahead with trying to seduce all three of them, or what?’ Jack asks.
The door to the cottage opens. Scarlett stands in the doorway.
‘Hi,’ she says cheerfully. ‘So if you’re going to try to seduce and split up our group in the name of this attempted revolution that you’re pretty sure is going to end in bloodshed anyway, you may as well come in and start it now. Or get your things and go. If I were you, I’d just settle for a quiet night’s rest in front of the fire; it’s bitter out. Gilde wants to go to bed soon, though, so whatever you choose to do, could you be quiet about it?’
Gretel gapes at Scarlett. ‘You heard all of that?’
‘Werewolf.’ she cheerfully replies by way of explanation.
‘Really good sense of hearing. And smell, although that’s not so relevant on this occasion.’
‘Right,’ mutters Gretel.
Scarlett holds the cottage door open meaningfully. Snow strides back inside, head tilted haughtily aloft, and the others shuffle and glide behind her, displaying various different levels of embarrassment.
When they get in, Gilde is dressed for bed. Hex is in a corner, his eyes cast down.
‘You reckon I’m just being a stubborn ole donkey,’ says Gilde gently, ‘don’t yer? Or that these two are only going along with my say-so because they’re under my toes, and you can bring all of them round with some more ’splaining and a handsome smile?’
‘You calling me handsome?’ asks Jack, with his patented skin-thin cocky grin.
‘She could have been talking about me,’ whispers Trevor.
‘Trevor, you’re physically incapable of smiling.’
Trevor attempts a smile, to prove Jack wrong, and fails.
Gilde shuffles over to the smallest of the beds at the back of the cottage.
‘I ain’t being a meanie, babies. I’m just being practical. You ain’t going to persuade the Citadel to turn around against the huntsmen and put a witch from the wood back on the throne. Miss Ghost knows that already, that’s why she’s sidestepping all your talk of a peaceful tide change and going straight to fighting talk.’
‘Patience is an ex-huntsman,’ explains Gretel. ‘Violence is just sort of her natural go-to; she’s not the best person to listen to when it comes to…’
Behind her, the air grows cold. Cutlery flies off the table and sticks to the ceiling. Gretel pinches the bridge of her nose.
‘Patience,’ warns Buttercup, ‘remember your temper, we’re guests here.’ She pauses. ‘But Gretel, that was uncalled for.’
‘Wasn’t “uncalled for”, it was just wrong,’ says Gilde, getting into bed. ‘A lot of you still haven’t opened the pickle jar on what a rich perspective you have in Miss Ghost, and your ignorance comes out like rudeness. Still, though, I’ll thank you not to have a temper tantrum in my house, Ghostie; it’s not my fault that you’re right and they’re wrong.’
‘I know the situation, OK?’ says Patience to Gretel. ‘I understand the huntsmen and the Citadel.’
‘A reason that the huntsman have been doing so well for so long,’ adds Gilde from her bed, ‘is that people – ordinary people – actually like what they do.’