Kimberly - Our Little Chop

"Oh, I see my pet is up," the witch said. "I hope your accommodations are satisfactory."

What was this voice, Wolf wondered? This wasn’t Virginia at all. The witch was very crafty - she must have disguised herself as Virginia and tricked him! Either that, he thought to himself in shame, or it was the mushrooms. Shaking the cage again with all his might, he growled menacingly at the witch.

"Let me out of here or I will tear you to shreds!" When this elicited no response he changed gears. "Aren't you afraid of wolves, Grandma?" He spoke in his most persuasive, seductive and menacing voice. His anger and frustration caused his eyes to glow their eerie Wolf green. If it weren’t for the tablecloth covering the cage, the witch may well have been frightened by the sight of him, as an adrenaline rush came over him and the change began in earnest.

"Don’t you worry," she said instead. "I’ve got great plans for you - you won’t be cooped in a cage for long. Soon you’ll be my faithful servant. Now, be a nice Wolf and try not to break any more of my things. I’m going out for awhile. I should be back this afternoon. You would do well to remember that I am in control of your destiny now, so don’t anger me by trying to escape!"

Wolf whined miserably in response, shaking the cage again.

"Oh dear," the witch said in the voice of the confused old woman. "Did I forget your breakfast? You must be ravenous!" She laughed a sweet, tinkling laugh and walked out the door. She continued to chuckle to herself as Wolf howled in rage, this time shaking the very floor of the cottage. Moving surprisingly quickly, she was over the hill in no time and could hear him no more.

In the cellar they could feel the floor above them shaking - dust fell from the ceiling above their heads and they could hear snarling and howling and growling. The shaking continued off and on for an hour after the witch left, as Virginia cried out to Wolf, hoping he could hear her, hoping to reassure him. Finally, there was silence. Wolf had either given up or exhausted himself. Virginia slumped against the wall, rubbing her belly and weeping silently. Suddenly they heard a new noise.

"What was that?" Tony asked, and Linn ran to the door of the passage. Pulling it open, he was nearly buried by debris.

"Cripes!" he cried. "All that shaking caved in the whole passage. We’ll never dig out now! What are we going to do?"

"The window!" Virginia cried.

Tony shook his head. "It’s way too high and there’s nothing to stand on. And besides, look how small that window is. How would we get out?"

"Maybe we won’t, Dad, but we could get Art and Linn out of here! Between us we can boost them up to the window, and they can go for help."

Tony and the elves agreed. Virginia helped Art up onto Tony’s shoulders, and he was able to reach the window. He pulled it open, and reached outside. Pulling with all of his might, he lifted himself up off of Tony’s shoulders, but was not able to pull himself all the way out the window. Now he was stuck, his little elfin legs dangling from the window and head, shoulders, and arms outside. He tried not to make too much noise but the window frame was pinching him. He couldn’t help but let out a squeal. Tony couldn’t reach high enough to give him the additional boost he needed, nor to pull him back inside without hurting him.

"Quick!" Linn said. "Boost me up too and I’ll push him through."

As quickly as they could they hoisted Linn, quite a bit heavier than his friend, up to Tony’s shoulders. He pushed and pulled and prodded trying to get Art through the window, but he was unsuccessful. The window had fallen halfway shut and he was wedged tight.

"Can you reach the window?" Virginia asked. "See if you can force it open."

Linn could barely reach, but he was able to budge the window a couple of inches and Art was free! He scrambled outside and stood and stretched. Leaning back in through the window that had just held him captive, Art reached through and helped his friend to safety. They assured Tony and Virginia that they would return as quickly as possible with help and then they ran.

The witch’s comment as she'd left reminded Wolf of just how hungry he was. He had howled after her but she was unaffected. He was enraged by her taunting and ashamed at having been captured. He was supposed to save the others and here he was instead, back in a tiny cage. It seemed no matter how much he changed he always ended up being treated like an animal.

Reaching through the bars, trying in vain to break the lock, he pondered this. At least this time it was the villain who had locked him up and not the law. He supposed that was some progress.

Still, he thought, who is she to do this? She’s never even met me and she’s trying to ruin my family; my life. She’s cursed my baby, she’s hurt my creamy sweet Virginia, and Tony too. What had he ever done to her?

His anger grew stronger as the change came on. His legs were cramped up under his chin and there was no room to move about. This cage was too small for a regular wolf, much less a grown half-wolf. The cramps in his stomach were soon joined by cramps in his legs, and the pain added to the anger and frustration. He shrieked in rage. He began shaking the cage in earnest, gripping the bars so tightly that his hands bled. He shook it until the cloth fell away and he could see the room. The cat hissed and spat, then came closer and scratched at his blistered hands, drawing still more blood. He batted her across the room like she was made of paper. His hair hung damp in his eyes and sweat ran down his face. He knew he was feverish but he continued trying to break free of the cage. He continued shaking it, howling and snarling, until the change came over him and his animal instincts took over completely.

Back in the cellar Tony and Virginia waited. Occasionally Virginia called out to Wolf, praying that he would answer her; that he was okay. At first, every time he heard her voice he would howl her name in response, but now there was only a whimper or a snarl and occasional muffled muttering. Tony paced the cellar from one end to the other again and again, trying to pass the time, to think of a plan, to do anything to get his mind off the situation. It had been at least three hours since the witch had left and nearly an hour since they’d shoved their small friends out the window. They knew the witch would be back soon and were hoping that Art and Linn would return with help before then.

Occasionally Tony would try to look out the window. By jumping up and grabbing the sill he was able to pull himself up momentarily to eye level with the window. It didn’t really help - all he could see was grass - and the trees beyond the clearing - but it made him feel productive somehow. He would pace the floor two or three times and then check out the window. He felt like a tiger he’d seen once in the zoo. It was in an empty cage, separated from the other animals by a low wall with bars at the top. The creature would pace the length of its cage and then jump to the top of the wall and snarl at the animals on the other side. It continued this routine for hours on end. Tony now understood how the animal must have felt.

He made the jump once more and this time he thought he could see movement in the trees. He jumped again, holding on as long as he could, and this time he was sure. Someone was coming. They were a long way off yet - about halfway up the hill - but he was certain he could see movement between the trees.

"Someone’s coming!" he said to Virginia and she joined him below the window.

"Is it the elves?" she asked hopefully, knowing the answer already. She had seen how slowly the elves traveled and didn’t really expect them to return in enough time to be any help to them but she didn’t have the heart to tell her father.

"I can’t tell," he replied. "They’re too far off. But something makes me doubt it. I don’t think the elves would be moving that fast. At this pace whoever it is will be here in less than twenty minutes."

Hansel had traveled nearly all night after leaving his friends at the top of the hill. He’d been tired, but he'd wanted to put as much space between himself and the Gingerbread Witch as possible. He arrived at the village near Ian’s house in the middle of the night, and slept fitfully in the back of the wagon. The next morning, over breakfast, he began planning his meeting with his long-lost sister but something was tugging at his mind. Every time he imagined his reunion with Gretel he thought of Tony and Wolf. He wanted nothing more in the world than to see his sister again but what would he say to her? How would he explain hiding out for all these years, letting her think that he was dead? They had been so close as children; they'd had nothing but each other - especially after their father had remarried. There was nothing that they didn’t share. He knew it must have hurt her terribly to believe that he was dead and never to recover his body and give him a proper burial.

How could he explain it all? At the time he'd thought he’d been protecting her, but now, looking back, he realized that he’d only been thinking of himself. Gretel was a very powerful woman. She had armies to protect her after she married the prince. It was Hansel who was most vulnerable to this witch. It was he who had been held captive and tortured for weeks on end. He was terrified of the witch and even after escaping from her he had allowed her to hold him captive for all these years. And now, knowing what she was capable of doing, he’d left his friends to face her alone and he’d run away again. He couldn’t live with himself as it was. He would rather be dead as his sister thought than return to her a coward. He made his decision and pointed the wagon back toward the little cottage.

He rode all morning, approaching the cottage, as before, from the south, cresting the hill behind the cottage in mid-afternoon. He hoped he would have a better chance of surprising the witch. He hoped also that he wasn’t too late. Peering ahead through the trees as he stumbled down the hill, he saw something moving about a hundred yards ahead and below, also approaching the cottage, and he froze.

When the change took over Wolf had begun gnawing. He chewed his way through the wooden bars of the cage and soon was free. He was ravenous, and his first instinct was to go after the cat. Delirious with hunger and rage he leaped at it but it was too quick, and it got away.

Coming to himself a bit, his next thought was to run for the cellar - to release Tony and his beloved shepherdess pie - and to run. But he knew that wouldn’t solve their original problem and he was afraid in his state that he would hurt them without realizing. He’d been cruel to her the first time she’d seen his wolf-self take over. He’d been more or less in control since then and he knew that was not the case this time. He would not allow himself to be near her until he was sure it was safe. He knew, too, how upsetting it was to Virginia to see him this way. It frightened her terribly to see the man she loved so out of control. He hurt himself often trying to resist his impulses in this state and she always feared for his safety if he gave in to them. It tore her apart to see him. So he left the cellar door closed and locked.

His strong desire was to leave this cramped little cottage and run into the woods. He was hungrier than he could ever remember being and he could smell the creatures of the forest out there. With a great effort he forced himself to stay put. He grabbed a piece of gingerbread trim, devoured it, and set out to find a way to break the curse. He knew she must have a spell book somewhere. Either she would be working from it, or would record her own spells in it.

He tore through the cupboard in the kitchen but found nothing, so he continued into the other room. He raged through the whole cottage, destroying everything in his wake and eating great chunks of gingerbread here and there. He knew they could hear him downstairs but hoped they would think he’d simply resumed shaking the cage. He didn’t want to even speak to Virginia in his state.

He broke the small table against the wall into splinters, but found no secret drawer or any other place where a book could be hidden. Looking around the room, there was not a stick of furniture unturned and he scratched his head. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed his reflection in the mirror and went closer. He was stunned at what he saw. He knew the change had taken over but he was horrified at his reflection. He looked more wolf than human now and there was blood on his face and clothes. Where had that come from? He looked around the room - there were blood smears all over - everything he’d touched had been stained with it. He looked down and saw that it was seeping from his blistered hands. His mouth was bleeding too, splintered from gnawing at the bars of the cage. He growled in frustration, wiping his hands on the front of his filthy shirt, then raking the hair out of his face. He again was drawn to the mirror, and this time he reached out, touching his reflection in the cool, smooth glass. A single drop of blood played across its surface, and the mirror moved. Pushing the mirror further aside he saw that the wall behind it had been hollowed out.

He reached in, feeling around inside the wall. Finally he grasped something. Pulling his arm out of the gingerbread, he grabbed a chunk of wall as he pulled the book out. Munching on the wall, he flipped the book open. This was it! This was the book. He was just about to seek out the spell that was ruining his life when he heard a noise and caught a scent all at once. Whirling around, he stashed the book in the back of his pants and slipped behind the door just as it opened.

The figure in the doorway gasped at the condition of the cottage but continued forward. Wolf’s defenses were up and his wolf nature had again taken full control. He was in survival mode, and if that meant killing, his human nature might not be able to stop it. As his prey stepped forward, Wolf pounced, grabbing for the throat. He was about to snap the neck when he realized that this was not the witch at all, but Hansel.

Confused, Wolf let out a whining snarl. "What are you doing here? I know I smelled the witch! You’ll ruin everything!" His eyes narrowed to glowing slits as he threatened, "Get out of here before I go ahead and kill you. It's full moon time now, don’t think I won’t do it!"

"What are you talking about?" the old man said, shaken, but not deterred from his goal. "The witch is at her well. When she stopped and occupied herself there I took the opportunity to sneak in ahead of her. I didn’t see any sign of you or Tony, so I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Owhhh," Wolf cried, shaking his head against his own thoughts, "I - I’m sorry. I know you were trying to help." Struggling to take over from his instinctive self, he began muttering again. "Bad Wolf - there you go again, turning on the people who try to help you."

At that moment the witch walked in, taking both of them by surprise. Before either could react she had swung at Hansel with her walking stick, striking him firmly above the ear. He fell to the floor with a hollow thud. Cursing himself again, this time for not letting his wolf instincts lead him, Wolf lunged at the witch, but she was remarkably nimble. She sidestepped him and he landed only a glancing blow. She reached around the corner and pulled a large knife off of a hook on the kitchen wall and wielded it at him, holding him momentarily at bay. He took a step back and she took the opportunity to slash at Hansel, missing his throat by mere inches and cutting a gash in his shoulder. Hansel didn’t notice. He lay on the floor, motionless. He did not appear to be breathing.

Wolf went wild. With a savage snarl that even he didn’t recognize as his own, he threw himself across the room, tackling her to the floor. For the first time in his life he let the full force of his rage loose. She was a murderer and a witch. She had killed Hansel. She had devastated the one person he’d come to fully trust and the only person who had ever loved him for himself, and she had attacked his unborn child. He wanted her to die. He wanted her to pay for the pain and persecution he’d suffered his whole life. She represented now, to his crazed animal mind, all the children who’d taunted him when he only wanted to play; all the farmers who’d hunted him; shot at him and beaten him when he only wanted to eat. She represented the mob that had tortured and killed his parents before his eyes. And she represented the destruction of all that he had built in overcoming the pain - the destruction of his family and his marriage, as he was sure that Virginia could never love him again after all he’d done. At that point his human heart may have given up and died, but a wolf doesn’t give up while he still has breath. Survival in the wild sometimes means killing the attacker.

As he brought her down, however, he heard Virginia’s voice. He heard her calling out. He pinned the witch to the floor, assuring himself that she could not get away, then he cocked his head and listened. It was Virginia, and she was calling his name, pleading with him to tell her he was okay. The realization came over him that she still cared, even after all he’d done. This whole curse was his fault. And he was sure that Tony had told her about the mutton. She had waited for hours and hours for him to come rescue her while he was out eating magic mushrooms. She’d heard how miserably he'd failed when he'd finally came to save her, and yet she still cared about his well being. He looked down at the witch who, moments before, he’d been on the verge of tearing to pieces. She looked back at him with sheer terror in her eyes and he no longer hated her. In fact, realizing that his Virginia still loved him, he looked at her again and the only emotion he felt was pity. She noticed the change in his eyes and smiled, but before he recognized the change in hers they heard a low moan come from the doorway. Hansel was alive!

He had pulled himself up and was leaning against the doorframe, clutching a handkerchief to his shoulder. The lonely old witch forgotten, Wolf called out to Virginia that all would soon be well, then he ran to help his friend. But somehow halfway there he felt faint, lost his balance, and fell to the floor. Looking back, he saw more blood. Shaking his head, he tried to work it out. This blood hadn’t come from Hansel. It hadn’t come from the witch, either, as he hadn’t really harmed her. It was way too much to have come from his hands…. He rolled over onto his back and looked down. He saw that the front of his shirt was soaked in blood, and it dawned on him. When he’d leapt at the witch and tackled her to the ground, she’d still been holding the knife. He’d jumped right onto it. He sensed the light fading, and as he did, he looked up - the witch was standing over him, the walking stick in one hand and the knife in the other. Her first swing was directed at Hansel. Wolf couldn’t see where it hit, but he heard Hansel go down again. Her second swing was aimed at him.

The witch stood over Wolf, a small frown of regret on her face. "You would have made such a good servant," she said softly, raising the cane over her head. "It’s a shame you can’t be trusted."

Just as she was bringing the cane forward to rid herself of this nuisance, she was hit by several tiny blows all at once. Startled, she stepped back slightly and looked up. From the doorway small stones were flying in. She heard glass breaking and more came in from the windows. She was being pelted from all directions now, and she could not locate her attacker. The blows were slight, causing more frustration than pain, but they made her angry and her anger drove her toward the attack.

She stumbled over the barely coherent Wolf and pushed toward the door. Peering out, she saw no one at first but felt the blows begin to hit with more force. She would have bruises, she thought - how upsetting. Looking down, she finally recognized her attackers - there were at least a dozen little elves positioned around the house with slingshots. Each was armed with a pouchful of ammunition. Laughing, she gestured as if to wave them away with a hand when one of their stones hit her in the forehead. Crying out, she raised a hand to her head and found the skin had been broken. Her ire was ignited more strongly now and she shouted at the little men - telling them to get away from her or she would turn them all into pigs.

Inside the cottage, Wolf struggled to clear his mind and get to his feet, but the more he tried, the weaker he got. The bleeding did not seem to be slowing, and he knew that if it didn’t stop soon he didn’t have much of a chance. Pressing one hand to the wound he tried to pull himself up with the other, but the witch noticed the motion from the corner of her eye and thew her cane at him, knocking his hand out from under him. He fell back to the floor. He struggled weakly for a few moments, but the room was spinning and the light was getting dimmer. He made one last effort to crawl toward the cellar door, but he never made it. As the lights went black, he had a vision of Virginia, still locked in the cellar, crying out in pain. He let out a whimper, and was still.

In the cellar, Tony was preoccupied with trying to pile up rubble near the window to try and climb out. Virginia clung to the ladder and listened intently to the commotion from above. She recognized Wolf’s snarls and cries of pain. She didn’t like it - not one bit - but she’d given up calling out to him. For some reason he either wouldn’t, or couldn’t, answer. But now things had grown quiet. She had heard two great thuds, then glass breaking and the witch shouting. Then she had heard some sort of clatter, and one final thud. She felt as if an icy hand had just reached into her chest and was squeezing her heart. She was gripped with the worst feeling of dread and terror she’d ever encountered. The pain it caused her was truly physical. Wolf! Something was terribly wrong! She let out a cry of pain, and lost her grip on the ladder. Tony caught her just in time.

The witch was enraged at the audacity of these tiny elves - thinking they could come to her home and harass her like this. When she saw that neither Hansel nor Wolf were moving anymore, she stormed out of the cottage and into the swarm of little troublemakers who had surrounded her. Screaming in rage she grabbed the nearest elf by the shirt collar, lifting him off the ground.

"Didn’t you hear me?" she bellowed. "If you don’t leave at once I will turn every last one of you into pigs!" She shook the little elf mercilessly; he was like a rag doll in her hands. The elves closest to her backed away, and one or two ran off into the woods. She laughed her condescension onto them.

"Did you really think you could defeat me with your little slingshots?" She tossed the now dizzy elf she’d been holding back onto the ground and clucked her tongue at them all. "Maybe I won’t turn you into pigs - you might be better off that way."

Finally Linn, the bravest elf, spoke up. "Release our friends or we’ll never go away. We’ll… we’ll tear your house apart!" At that he reached over and ripped a piece of licorice trim off of the windowsill and began gnawing on it - smiling brazenly up at the witch and hoping that she couldn’t see his hand tremble.

The other elves followed his lead, and soon were tearing at the house all around. The witch began grabbing at them, throwing them aside off of the house. She needed her pesticides, she thought. She had powders that really would turn them all into pigs, but she feared that wouldn’t do her quickly deteriorating cottage any good. She had an atomizer full of spray that would render them all blind and deaf, but that didn’t seem to be the right thing either. Snapping her fingers, she remembered - her zombie dust would turn them into her own private, albeit tiny, army. It was in her pouch, hanging on a hook in the kitchen. She turned to go retrieve it, tossing aside several elves on the way.

Art grabbed her around the leg and bit her knee. "This is for my father!" he cried.

She shook him off and entered the cottage again, climbing over a motionless Wolf, shaking her head at the shame of loosing such a powerful slave, and made her way to the kitchen, preoccupied with saving her beloved cottage. In the kitchen, she reached for the pouch on the wall, but before her hands could fall around it, she felt a jolt and something akin to pain. She stood stunned for a minute, then fell to the floor. Looking up, she saw Hansel gazing down at her. He was leaning heavily on the walking stick, and clutching the wall with his free hand. Recognition dawned in her eyes just as she blacked out.

Art, who had followed the witch into the cottage, looked up at Hansel. "Who are you?" they said, each to the other.

"Nevermind that now," Hansel said quickly. "I’m about to fall over. I need to sit down; can you tie her up?"

"No problem!" Art said, and called out to the others to come inside. Linn came in first, and seeing that the witch was unconscious, the others followed. As they busied themselves finding rope and tying up the Gingerbread Witch, Hansel sat gingerly back onto the floor next to Wolf. Reaching out, he held his hand to Wolf’s face, feeling for breath. He was breathing - barely. Hansel’s own bleeding had all but stopped, the wound being superficial. Tearing off a piece of his ragged coat, he pressed it to the wound in Wolf’s gut. His shirt had stuck there, and seemed to have slowed the bleeding considerably, but Hansel knew he needed to stop it completely if Wolf were to survive.

Art and Linn left the other elves to finish securing the witch, and came and stood at Hansel’s side, and each explained to the other their role in the mess they’d all shared in. As Hansel attempted to tend to the wound, Linn sent one of the elves to get water from the well. They found cleaner rags in the kitchen, using one to sooth his fever and another to dress the wound. The witch was well bound now and the other elves gathered round, helping out as much as they could. Now that things had calmed down they all noticed the pounding and yelling coming from the cellar.

Art rose to let his friends out, but Hansel waved him back. "Let me clean him up a little first. His wife shouldn’t see him like this."

Art agreed, and they set about clearing the blood from his face and hands. He began shaking violently, which Hansel took to be a good sign - at least he really was alive. They removed his soaked shirt and covered him with the witch’s quilt, and his shaking calmed some.

"What we really need to do," Hansel said, "is get him into the bed. Go ahead and open the cellar. Tony and Virginia can help us now."

Art ran and opened the cellar door, from which Virginia emerged immediately, falling over herself trying to get free and find Wolf. When she saw him, a strangled sob escaped her and she rushed to his side. She began pushing away the elves who had gathered around to help and threw herself over him, weeping.

"What happened?" she screamed. "What did she do to him?"

Tony stood behind her, a tear in his eye. "Is he dead?" he asked Hansel softly.

Hansel put a finger to his mouth, shaking his head reassuringly. He laid a hand on Virginia’s shoulder, gently pulling her away from her beloved husband.

"She stabbed him, Virginia," he said quietly, motioning to the elves to move away so that Tony could come closer and comfort his daughter. Tony came to her and she clung to him desperately. She hadn’t held on so tight since she was seven and he'd had to explain to her that her mother was gone.