Gretel steps a little closer to Jack to take a look at what Gilde means. Jack is slowly, delicately stitching stinging nettle leaves together by hand. His fingers are already red with angry raised welts.
‘Jack, your hands…’
‘Best you don’t try to make conversation, girl,’ Gilde adds. ‘From the first stitch to the last, he ain’t allowed to speak, nor cry out, nor nothin’.’ She smiles sweetly, her eyes still closed. ‘You’re welcome for all the peace and quiet in the next few weeks or however long it takes.’
‘Weeks?’ Gretel frowns.
‘Took Hex’s sister a full year per shirt,’ Gilde tells her. ‘But then she was only allowed to work at nights in secret, the situation bein’ such as it was, and she had to pick the nettles special like; she couldn’t cheat like this ’un.’
‘Maybe if more of us chip in with the work it can be done quicker?’ Gretel suggests. ‘It would be nice to get Hex back to his old self as soon as possible, if we can…’
Gilde shakes her head. ‘That’d only take the spell from “almost def’niately not going to work” to “absolutely positively not going to work”. Nettle shirts only block a curse if they’re stitched by hand, in silence, by a witch who loves you.’
‘Oh,’ sighs Gretel.
‘Not “you” specifically,’ Gilde adds, ‘but the person who’s been cursed. You know what I mean.’
‘You’re in love with him,’ breathes Gretel.
Jack shoots her a quick, embarrassed glance.
‘Oh, don’t be like that, Jack, I’m proud of you.’
Jack looks even more embarrassed and concentrates back on his painful sewing.
Gilde snuggles deeper into Baby’s fur. ‘By the bye, Her Majesty went thattaway.’ She points off in the general direction of the Dwarf cave.
Gretel thanks her and follows her pointed finger.
She finds Snow a hundred yards or so into the trees, sitting on a stump and ruffling the fur of either Stinky or Claws or Gitface… Gretel honestly can’t tell the difference between the Dwarves just by looking at them.
Gretel sits down next to her. ‘You all right?’
Snow pulls a face. ‘About what you and your village did, back there. Lying to that huntsman about being witches.’
‘A united front.’ Gretel smiles, proud of Nearby’s residents. ‘You’re welcome.’
‘Yes, I get what you were trying to do, but being a witch still isn’t a costume you get to put on; I’d appreciate it if you didn’t, in future.’
‘Oh,’ huffs Gretel, deflating.
Snow continues to scowl off into the distance. ‘We lost, today.’
Gretel shrugs. ‘Not really. The huntsmen’s goal is to kill us all, and they haven’t managed it yet. Today was more of a draw.’
‘They’ll come back,’ says Snow. ‘With more weapons. They have flying machines!’
‘We’ll have flying machines too,’ Gretel assures her. ‘I saw enough of that prototype to be able to work out how to recreate something like it. We’ve got full use of the village’s workshops and craftspeople now; we can start knocking out inventions much faster…’
‘It won’t be enough,’ says Snow quietly. ‘The northern witches… Gilde and her bears need to hibernate, Scarlett and her pack are limited in terms of what they can do, and as for Hex…’
‘Jack’s on the case, with Hex.’
‘Nevertheless. Even with your brother learning to focus his power, I’m not confident that we can beat a whole army, change the whole system. At least, not without more good people getting hurt. Or worse.’
‘Stepmother says that Ou’s odds are getting better all the time,’ Gretel assures her. ‘The farm has medicines that minimise the possibility of infection, we have never lost a single pig to sepsis.’
‘I’m not taking that chance again,’ says Snow. ‘Not with my lads. Not with any of you.’
Gretel frowns. ‘You sound like either you’re about to give up…’
‘Never.’ Snow spits on the ground.
‘Or,’ Gretel continues, ‘as if you’re thinking of doing something reckless.’
‘It’s not reckless. It’s part of the wider plan. We need every possible ally onside before we take on the Citadel.’
Gretel stares at Snow. ‘You want to go east.’
Snow glares off into the trees. ‘We talked the Bear Witch round. It should be possible to persuade the Glass Witch to join us too. Her territory’s under just as much threat from the huntsmen as the rest of us.’
‘Are you sure? Just, from everything that’s been said about her…’
‘Oh, she’s just a witch, same as us,’ replies Snow dismissively. ‘She’s going to turn out to be another sad, lonely, half-starved soul stuck out in a shack in the wilderness, just like all the rest, you wait and see.’
‘But, didn’t Hex and Gilde say…’
‘Hex and Gilde were rumoured to be so ferocious that we didn’t dare to stray into the northern woods for thirteen years,’ Snow reminds her. ‘We have to stop listening to the stories telling us to fear what’s in the Darkwood. We are the Darkwood.’
Gretel nods. ‘When do you want to go?’
‘Soon,’ Snow tells her. ‘I should rest first, and make sure Oi’s on the mend. I’d hate for her to take a turn for the worse while I’m away.’
‘Well, while she’s healing I’ll get as many blueprints as I can over to the workshops so that they can start building while we’re gone…’
Snow turns to Gretel. ‘Oh, you think you’re coming with me?’
‘I assumed we were going as a team again.’
Snow shakes her head. ‘I’m not having another Oi on my hands. I’m even getting the rest of the lads to stay behind on this one, aren’t I, Scourge?’
The Dwarf she’s petting mutters a very unsure ‘Yummy’.
‘Buttercup isn’t going to like this, you know.’
Snow manages a small, fond smile. ‘Why do you think I’m out here? I’ve got to work out how I’m going to tell her.’
‘You really do love each other, don’t you?’
‘Wow, that’s none of your business, New Girl.’
‘I think Jack’s fallen in love with Hex, too.’
‘Yeah. I noticed he was going all soppy. Good for him, I suppose, even in spite of… you know.’
‘The fact that Hex is currently a bird? I told you; he’s working on that.’
‘I meant more the age difference. Still, each to their own.’
‘And I think my brother’s started stepping out with my best mate from back home.’
Snow pulls a face. ‘What are they – ten?’
‘Thirteen and fourteen!’
Snow’s expression of distaste doesn’t change. ‘Who’s even interested in making smoochy-eyes at that age? Hope you’re not, New Girl.’
Gretel shudders. ‘Bleh. No. Who needs kissing when you’ve got spanners?’