The cottage was quieter than usual, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of wooden beams and the faint crackle of the dying fire. Adelheid had been gone for hours, leaving Ruprecht, Hansel, and Gretel behind to wait. Her absence seemed to stretch endlessly, amplifying the tension in the small space.

Ruprecht sat by the window, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm on the sill. His hollow eyes scanned the treeline for any sign of movement, his lips moving in whispered reassurances. “She’ll be back,” he murmured. “She will. It’s just the forest…”

Hansel and Gretel sat near the hearth, the weak firelight casting flickering shadows across their faces. Hansel carved a small figure from a splintered piece of wood, his strokes deliberate but hesitant. Gretel leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching Ruprecht with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

“She’s been gone too long,” Gretel muttered, just loud enough for Hansel to hear.

“She’ll be back,” Hansel said, though his voice wavered.

Gretel snorted. “You sound just like him.” She nodded toward Ruprecht, who now muttered to himself, his gaze fixed on the dark forest. “What if she doesn’t come back?”

“She will,” Hansel insisted, trying to sound firm but failing.

Gretel’s expression hardened. “You don’t know that. She barely even looks at us. I bet she’s glad to be rid of us for a while.”

Hansel stopped carving, his shoulders stiffening. “Why do you always say things like that?” he whispered. “You don’t know what she’s thinking.”

Gretel leaned closer, her voice low and sharp. “I know enough. You see how she talks to Father. And how she looks at you.”

Hansel flinched but didn’t argue. He returned to his carving, his knife trembling slightly in his grip. A loud creak from the window made them both jump.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Ruprecht had risen abruptly, his hand pressed to the glass. “What if something happened to her?” he said aloud, his voice breaking. He began pacing, his steps uneven. “What if… what if she’s lost? Or worse?”

“She’s fine,” Gretel said sharply, loud enough for him to hear. Her voice carried a steely edge. “She knows the forest better than you do.”

Ruprecht froze mid-step, his face pale. He turned to her, his voice shaking. “You don’t understand. The forest… it’s not safe. Not for anyone.”

Gretel raised an eyebrow but stayed silent. Hansel shrank further into himself, his unfinished carving falling from his lap.

“She’ll be back,” Ruprecht muttered again, his voice fragile. “She has to come back.”

For a moment, the room fell silent, broken only by the wind rattling the shutters. Then the sound of approaching footsteps—heavy and deliberate—echoed from outside.

The door creaked open, and Adelheid stepped inside, her cloak damp and her face unreadable. She paused to shake the leaves from her cloak, her movements slow and deliberate. Without a word, she hung it on a hook near the door and moved toward the hearth. The air in the room grew heavier with her presence.

Ruprecht rushed to her side, his voice trembling. “What took so long? Are you all right?”

“I’m here now,” Adelheid said flatly, brushing past him without another glance. She crouched near the fire, tossing in a few dry twigs. “The traps were empty,” she added, her tone clipped. “There’s nothing out there.”

Ruprecht hesitated, his lips tightening. “Perhaps tomorrow—”

“There won’t be anything tomorrow either,” she interrupted sharply, standing again. “The forest is dead, Ruprecht. Just like everything else.”

Hansel glanced nervously at his father before offering quietly, “Maybe we could set the traps deeper in the woods?”

Adelheid’s sharp gaze snapped to him. “Deeper into the woods?” she repeated, her tone icy. “Do you think the wolves will thank you for venturing into their territory, boy?”

Hansel shrank under her gaze, his hands trembling. Gretel straightened, her voice calm but firm. “Hansel’s just trying to help.”

Adelheid turned her attention to her daughter, a humorless smile curving her lips. “Help? By suggesting foolish ideas? He should try staying quiet for once.”

“At least he’s thinking about how to solve our problems,” Gretel shot back, meeting her mother’s gaze without flinching.

“Enough,” Ruprecht said suddenly, his voice rising. He stood, his hands trembling slightly. “This arguing does no good. We’re all trying to survive.”

Adelheid turned to him, her expression cold. “Survive? Is that what you call this?” She gestured to the dim, crumbling room around them. “This isn’t survival, Ruprecht. This is waiting to die.”

“Adelheid—” he began, but she cut him off.

“You coddle him,” she said, her voice sharp. “You let that boy dream of a life that doesn’t exist anymore. You’re doing him no favors.”

Ruprecht’s face paled, his shoulders sagging as he returned to his chair. Hansel and Gretel watched silently, the firelight dancing in their uneasy eyes.