The rocky terrain of the broken mountain trail was lit in a dim blue hue from the pale moon over head. It was barely enough to keep the shadows at bay but gave enough to light their way, at least one footstep in front of them. Hansel's slow nonsensical ramblings had ceased half an hour ago, though the slow trickle of blood down the side of his head did not.
Gritting her teeth, Gretel hefted her brother's arm further over her shoulder to support his increasingly growing dead weight as they mechanically put one tired and aching foot in front of the other. The numerous cuts and scrapes that littered her body burned and pulled with every breath, but still they had to go on. She just wasn't sure what they were going to accomplish except putting off the inevitable.
Gretel was hopeless. She knew helplessness when their father left them in the woods. She knew it again when a witch chained them up in her candy house and again when Hansel became ill before a gypsy passing through town taught them how to keep the sugar sickness at bay. It was the only thing she felt when she watched Hansel fall through the hole in the floor at their childhood home after Muriel stab him and yet again when Andria had taken him. This was different; this was undoubtedly hopelessness in all its ugliness. The Lamiae were relentless, unlike any enemy they had faced before. At this rate, Hansel and Gretel would be the story parents told their children at night. A cautionary tale for those who thought to stand against the monsters that hid under the bed. One day these stories would have happy endings but as she continued on, she was hard pressed to think of any modern tales that didn't end in death and misery; theirs would be no different.
The journey had been difficult and the terrain unforgiving. The beaten path had long since detoured from them, leaving a broken trail of birds carved into trees. They couldn't even say if the symbols really meant something or if they were chasing an illusion until fate could finally catch up to them. The symbols were based on stories and legend about the one they seek, passed down with gossip about neighbors and relatives until most of the story had been lost, except that the symbols lead the way. With no other options available Gretel had forced them to continue on, to follow a path to nowhere.
The Lamiae weren't deterred by the difficult path chosen. The silver creatures continued their raids against them, inflicting more damage with each attempt. The hunter's weapons had little effect, nor did their skills which were rapidly decreasing as injury and fatigue set in. Gretel had even resorted to trying magic. Like spells cast by witches against the siblings, it had no effect. The only thing that seemed to hurt them was the unpredictable and uncontrollable magical outbursts exhibited by Hansel.
Each time it happened, it bought them precious time and distance, but the toll it was taking on Hansel was undeniable. They were getting beat, both physically and mentally from the Lamiae and Hansel was being torn from the inside out by something Gretel knew he never wanted.
Gretel never had any feelings towards magic, sure there were spells she hated but the craft itself wasn't the problem. She hated witches and all the other things that went bump in the night. It was the uses and the innocent lives that were affected by them that hit home for her but not the craft itself. Maybe it was her then unknown heritage that tempered her view on the subject from such a young age or maybe it was the distant memory always lurking at the back of her mind of her mother using it to protect her and Hansel.
Hansel hated magic and its users. He had always been vocal about his feelings towards it from the get go. In his eyes it was the enemy, the reason bad things happened to good people. After Muriel's revelation, Gretel watched his hatred for it grow even more. There was no denying the roll it had played in tearing apart their family, it set them on a course that given the option, neither one would have picked for their future. Now the thing he hated the most was flowing in his veins to and Gretel could do nothing to ease that pain, like there was nothing they could do to escape their fate.
The pounding thud of their pursuers echoed like a drum behind them but still Gretel kept putting one foot in front of the other, dragging Hansel along with her. They were out of ammo, not that it had been effective when they had it. It pissed the Lamiae off but there was a certain level of satisfaction in firing a few rounds into the silver devils. They weren't in any physical condition to offer more than token protest and Gretel was the only one still fighting mentally.
If they were going to die, they were going to do it on their feet, working towards a goal. The hunter let out a long breath before steeling her determination to keep moving. They started this together and if she had anything to say about it, they would end this together, as a family.
Gretel cried out as a pair of claws sliced into her leg. The sheer pain and force of the blow knocked her off balance bring both her and Hansel to the ground. Out of the corner of her eye she could see three pairs of feet circling them like vultures, poised and ready to feed off of the dead.
Two descended on the pair, quickly subduing Gretel's wild, frantic punches and attempts to claw, bite and kick with the last of her reserves. An animalistic cry tore from her lungs as she felt Hansel's hand be pried from her steel like grip. She had given it everything she had and it wasn't enough; she had failed to protect her brother.
The fear and sense of loss was lost in a river of pain and blinding light. The once dark mountain side lit on fire under the harsh and all encompassing golden glow that swept through it. It was so bright, Gretel had to squeeze her eyes shut and still it did nothing to lessen the intensity of it. The cries and screams of agony from the Lamiae, sweet as music, were lost against the pounding of her heart. If the creatures were scared, then what was coming was something to be feared. Gretel clawed at the dirt in a feeble attempt to get away from the light.
The screams stopped and the light faded back into darkness but the slight buzz in the hunter's ears remained. She waited, tense for a blow or a fight that didn't seem to be coming. Slowly, Gretel lifted her head and blinked away the spots dancing before he eyes. Her hand frantically glided over the ground searching for some part of Hansel to latch onto. She came up empty, like the night.
"Hansel," she croaked, barely above a whisper as he throat burned with the effort. The silence swallowed up her plea and offered nothing in return. Gretel tried to suck in a deep breath but her lungs refused to cooperate, nothing wanted to cooperate except the tears curling down her face. She wanted to howl and rage at the loss but her body was too stunned and too numb to full process how completely alone she was, just how much she failed.
A soft thud near her head helped ground her in the present. With a sly smile curling her lips, she snapped her head up to greet Hansel only to be confronted with a pair of unfamiliar shoes. Her smile disappeared in a flash, replaced with confusion and resurfacing agony.
The cloaked figure stood there like a statue taking in the broken woman on the ground. The brown hood provided enough shadow to mask the stranger's features from view before bending over to get a good view of Gretel.
The hunter strained her eyes to get a good look at the person before her, not quite sure what to make of the discovery. The man looked to be in his mid forties with soft brown hair and eyes that seemed to have seen more than his years would suggest. The thing that stole Gretel's breath was the thin black line that coiled its way across his face like a rouge vine. It was a start to the tell tale sign of witchcraft. "You're a witch," she breathed. The world suddenly began to swim as darkness rippled over her vision.
"So are you," he replied before Gretel lost her fight to stay conscious.