Patience manifests in front of an unsuspecting wolf, making it yelp.
‘I’m here,’ she announces. ‘Everyone OK?’
‘I lost my best suit of armour,’ complains Snow. ‘It took the lads ages to make me that’
‘Well,’ Patience tells her, ‘I did find something that might cheer you up a bit.’
‘More armour?’ asks Snow hopefully.
Patience shakes her head. From out of the thickets, seven grubby faces appear and stare at them sheepishly.
‘Lads!’ Snow cries, with a genuine relief.
‘They must have been waiting for you at the territory border all this time,’ Patience says.
Snow throws her arms wide to them. They scurry over to her for grateful hugs.
‘Did you manage to grab me some more armour?’ she asks them.
One Dwarf looks down, shamefaced. ‘Yummy.’
‘Oi. Joking.’ She pulls all seven of the creatures tight to her. ‘We’re all together again!’
‘Oh no,’ cries Buttercup suddenly. She pats down her long black hair frantically, then pats her sleeves, turning the cuffs into bagels.
‘Oh no,’ echoes Gretel. Her eyes widen as the realisation hits her.
‘What?’ asks Jack.
Gretel and Buttercup turn to him, as one. ‘Trevor!’
23
Taking Flight
The road back from the Citadel to Nearby feels even longer than the journey there, in spite of the fact that Hansel and Daisy no longer have a cart to push. Time feels much more of the essence now, and nothing makes a destination feel quite so far away as when you know you need to reach it as quickly as possible. Behind a heavy sheet of cloud, a dull, grey dawn breaks over the thin line of Darkwood on the eastern horizon. Will they have finished the counting by now? wonders Hansel. Is Morning the official head huntsman already? Is she standing on a platform outside the castle and making that same speech about wiping out all magicals right at this moment? Is she really going to start right away? And where would she start it? How would she start it? Another march on Darkwood? And what about those machines she mentioned? Hansel wishes he’d given himself the time to find out, but for now all he can really do is get some distance between himself and the huntsmen, and try to warn the residents of Darkwood.
He tries to reach a message out to Gretel again, as he has been doing since he and Daisy escaped the Citadel hours ago, but yet again he finds his sister’s mind closed off, too filled with swirling, unreadable problems of her own to be receptive to any psychic warning from Hansel.
‘This is bad,’ he says for probably the tenth time so far.
‘Yes,’ Daisy concedes. ‘But things have been bad before. Remember that time you were locked in a cage and I was tied to a stake?’
‘Course I do, that was two weeks last Monday.’
‘Feels like forever ago, though, doesn’t it? And we’re different people now. Older.’
‘Two weeks older.’
‘And wiser.’
‘We just got tricked by a huntsman with funny hair and a dog.’
‘Plus, you’re a big, powerful witch.’
‘I’ve always been a witch, though. And, according to you, you’ve known about it for ages.’
‘Yeah, but we’re being open about it now, aren’t we?’ Daisy pauses, watching him carefully as they speed-walk. ‘Also, we have the power of love behind us.’
‘We do?’
‘Because we’re stepping out together.’
Hansel blinks. He does so several times. ‘We are?’
‘I mean, literally yes, we are right now, we’re stepping and we’re out and we’re together.’
‘Oh.’
‘But, if you wanted to, we could also…’
‘Yes…?’
‘You know. Hold hands.’
In spite of the severity of the situation, Hansel can’t help but smile a little.
‘Yes. I’d like to step out and hold hands.’
Daisy matches his smile, and reaches her hand out for him to take. Just as he takes hold of her hand, however, there is a strange rumbling from behind them.
‘What is that?’
They both turn. The road out of the Citadel remains empty at this early hour. There are no marching huntsmen, no trundling machines, no masked horseback posse galloping their way. Still, Hansel can’t shake the sensation of trouble following them. The image of the Hydra flashes again across his mind’s eye, bright and loud and racing on many feet right up to him. Just as it’s about to collide with Hansel, its back opens up into a kaleidoscope of wings. It leaps, and flaps, and for a moment Hansel feels as if the only beings in the whole world are himself and the Hydra soaring over his head, crushing him in its downdraught. For a moment, he feels alone, and the solitude feels oddly soothing.
He isn’t alone, he reminds himself. It’s not him versus a monster; it’s a monstrous idea versus a whole people. And that’s worse, that’s scarier – it always is, when there are others to protect. The Hydra passes over him, flying east towards the forest, leaving him unscathed. The vision winks out of existence.
‘What is it?’ Daisy asks. She’s still holding onto him tightly.
‘It’s in the air,’ manages Hansel.
‘What?’
The rumbling is louder now, and yes, Hansel realises, it really is coming from the sky, above the thick grey cloud.
‘What in the world is that?’ Daisy asks.
‘Huntsmen,’ breathes Hansel, searching the noisy clouds for some sight of the contraption above.
‘They sent out one of their machines to find us,’ says Daisy, eyes wide. ‘What do we do? Can we get off the road, before it’s too late? Where can we hide?’
Hansel shakes his head. ‘It’s not about us. Not about me, anyway.’
Daisy watches the sky, realising. ‘Oh, trousers. She’s starting it already. That thing’s headed to Darkwood.’ She looks to Hansel. ‘What do we do? We have to warn them. Can you use your witchy powers, or…?’
Hansel tries to contact Gretel again. Still nothing.
He shakes his head at Daisy.
‘Then we’ll have to warn them the unmagical way,’ Daisy tells him. She starts hurrying along the road towards Nearby and the Darkwood’s edge again, pulling Hansel behind her by the hand.
The sound of the great machine in the sky rumbles closer. Whatever it is, it’s moving much faster than they are. Darkwood is still barely a smudge on the horizon, Nearby nothing but a thin line of smoke as its residents start the chilly autumn morning by lighting fires and stoves. It’s a full day’s walk away. They’re never going to make it; whatever it is up in the sky will likely overtake them within minutes. In desperation, he tries to get through to his sister yet again, to no avail. The thick, crackling magic swells within him again in his panic. Initially he tries to bottle it in as he always does, but a realisation hits him. Daisy already knows, and there’s nobody else about. There’s nobody to hide the magic from, not right now.
Still hurrying along, he focuses, controlling his breaths, and the magic with it. He doesn’t try to swallow it all down this time, but instead he makes an attempt at channelling the power, rather than just letting it all spill out. He sucks in light as he breathes in, and as he exhales, allows the magical tendrils to sink smoothly into the ground. He’d be very pleased with how well he’s able to direct his magical power when he concentrates, were it not for the detail that as soon as the tendrils of magic burrow into the ground, they cause a short tremor directly under his and Daisy’s feet, causing them both to topple over, mid-run.