Chapter 14

The lone call of morning came far too early for Hansel. As the rooster announced the beginning of a new day, the hunter felt as though last night should have been far more thrilling than he remembered it being. There were no casks of ale, odes of bravery, or friendly bar maidens wandring around to justify the splitting headache and the aches that seemed to have aches, just a barren bedroom and a rumpled bed. He rubbed his head and squinted against the rays of light creeping in through the old battered shutters.

It wasn't enough light to chase the shadows of night completely away and Hansel let out a curse as he stubbed his toe against one of the many discarded books strewn across the floor. Hopping on one foot he tumbled back into bed. Needing to illuminate the modest bedroom in order to traverse the cluttered floor, Hansel pawed at the side table hoping to find something to light the oil lamp sitting idly on the table.

"Son of a bitch," he mumbled, coming up empty. He wasn't prepared to deal with the day if everything was going to go wrong and he had to feel like this. Grabbing the pillow he dropped it over his face in a halfhearted attempt at suffocation. As he lay there weighing the pros and cons of actually attempting to navigate the carelessly discarded book minefield, he realized he had a solution to his problem.

The words had seemed so foreign yesterday, yet today they felt like old friends. Upon completion of the few lines, the oil lamp ignited, alleviating the darkness in the space untouched by the rising sun. A small smile graced the hunter's face as he reveled in his accomplishment. Carefully, he stepped around the minefield of strewn books to head for the kitchen for something to drink, in the hopes of maybe dulling his raging headache.

The house was still and quiet, Kaspar nowhere to be seen but the door to his room was still closed. Hansel fumbled with the knickknacks on the shelf, trying to find a cup before dipping it into the bucket of well water left from the day before. The lukewarm water quenched his parched throat and it occurred to him that the headache that had been so prominent when he woke, had completely disappeared. In fact, he felt terrific. It wasn't the euphoric feeling of yesterday, but it wasn't the 'too much ale the night before' feeling anymore either.

What he was, was starving now. It had been a long time since Hansel felt that famished. It was a type of hunger that made itself known when they siblings were too consumed in the hunt to stop to eat for a few days or the hard days when work was hard to come by and their money reserves ran too low to stay in a town and game had made itself scarce. The odd part was he had eaten the night before, in fact, the pair had feasted on wine and pheasant that Kaspar had magically captured.

He continued his rummaging through every possible cupboard in the kitchen area in search of something that would sate his hunger. The cupboards weren't bare but the jars, bottles and other vessels occupying the shelves contained questionable items that didn't look like they fell anywhere near the margins of what constituted food. "Gretel better hurry up," Hansel muttered. She wasn't due until later that night, but if she showed up early and rescued him from his relentless hunger, he would gladly take on all the less favorable chores they performed on their travels for at least a month.

Hansel flinched at a sudden and loud thud behind him. Turning sharply, muscles coiling tightly in anticipation of a fight, he glared at the intruder. Kaspar stood unfazed near the table. The hunter looked from him to the larger book he had so unceremoniously deposited on the table.

"Since you're up, I figured we could move on to something… more productive," explained the witch, gesturing to the book.

"Why not," sighed Hansel resigning himself to going with the flow. The sooner he gained control, the sooner he and Gretel could leave all this behind and get back to what they were good at and with any luck, put this whole magic thing behind them, never again to see the light of day.

The successive pop of each vertebrae snapping back into place went unnoticed in the quiet of Kaspar's makeshift library as Hansel stretched and twisted to alleviate his stiffness. The pair had been pouring over a new set of books that Kaspar had pulled from the depths of the library, complete with an healthy layer of dust adorning each, and had engaged in testing Hansel's abilities to make the spells works for most of the morning. It seemed easier today than it had yesterday. Even the words seemed less foreign, both on the page and flowing over his tongue.

Each new venture and every page turned took the sting out of what Hansel was doing. No one was getting hurt by what he was doing. Kaspar hadn't insisted they sacrifice and children or living creatures to fulfill any spell requirements. It was all seemingly harmless.

It was that sentiment that directed Hansel's thoughts as he sat there alone, Kapsar having muttered some excuse to excuse himself for a moment. Mena had used her powers for good, to help Hansel even though she knew his feelings on witches, Mena, who he had misjudged in all aspects from the very beginning. Perhaps he had misjudged the fate that had befallen him. Gretel had used magic to fight witches and she was still the same sweet soul he had always known. Letting go and embracing what he had inherited from his mother, as long as he could control it might not be as horrific as he had imagined.

Still there was a voice inside his head, growing smaller by the hour but relentless nonetheless, that screamed that he shouldn't be doing this at all, let alone so freely. It was muted by the euphoric rush that washed over him every time he gave into the ever increasing need to let his power free into the world. It was a rush, like hanging by a rope over a ravine, the intoxicating thrill of defying death while being precariously perched upon its sword. He could pull himself up or slip and plummet to his death; either way it would be momentarily exhilarating.

"Here," offered Kaspar, plopping a plate with something resembling meat wrapped in pasty in front of Hansel. "Have some dinner."

"Dinner?" questioned Hansel. "When you walked out of here it was noon."

Kaspar scrunched up his face. "That was several hours ago."

Confused, Hansel turned to peer through the small crack in the shutters over the window. The small stream of light that had curled its way in with the morning sun had since vanished, leaving the murky darkness of early evening in its wake. The hunter paused for a moment, wondering how time had seemed to escape him so easily and with a task that he normally abhorred and struggled with. More importantly, he wondered how he could have missed Gretel's return for keeping his nose glued in a book. This wasn't him; he was usually more focused on the things going on around him, a hazard and life saving skill developed from years of hunting things that could use any moment of distraction to their throats out. It should have bothered him that he didn't quite feel like himself but he couldn't place a finger on what was different either.

Keeping his concern and little voice of concern to himself, he asked, "Where's Gretel?" He peered around Kaspar, trying to get a glimpse of his sister beyond the door.

"She's not back yet," corrected Kaspar. He sat down across the table to begin working on his own plate of deliciously smelling dinner.

A moment of panic flared in Hansel. He tried to think of why that news was troubling, but anything that didn't involve his recent studies seemed to be blanketed with a thick layer of fog that his mind had trouble traversing. "But," he protested ineloquently and gaping slightly while gesturing towards the plate of food," there wasn't… there's no food in the kitchen." It wasn't the point he wanted to make, wasn't the nagging dread burrowing deep in his gut but the point still stood.

A devilish half smirk appeared on Kaspar's face as he snorted in derision. "You'll never want for anything when you have mastered the mystery and art of magic."

Hansel froze in his movement to grab the cutlery on his plate. He may have been more willing to embrace his magic as long as it created momentum towards controlling it, but both men knew he wasn't yet willing to partake in indulgent and apparent forms of personal gain.

Rolling his eyes, Kaspar divulged, "It's called baking. You mix ingredients in a bowl then put it in a pan and cook it in the oven. I hear you're familiar with ovens."

"Right," mumbled Hansel, shoving in a huge mouthful of food.

"I had to produce something, your sister isn't going to make it back tonight." Before Hansel could swallow his bite and declare his intent at some fool hardy attempt to track Gretel down, Kaspar elaborated, "A storm has been blowing in all afternoon. It hasn't hit here yet but I bet it did hit the village early enough that if Gretel was smart, she'd stay there for the night and make the journey tomorrow in better weather."

It made sense. The siblings were no strangers to poor weather condition, often changing their plans to accommodate the worst Mother Nature had to offer. Another day wouldn't even be the longest the two had spent apart and Gretel was capable of looking after herself. "She'll be here tomorrow then?"

"I would imagine," confirmed Kaspar. He gestured to the book Hansel had gotten half way through. "We should keep going."

Hansel let out a long breath. He couldn't find a fault in Kaspar's logic, but there was something within him that demanded he toss the book aside, grab his coat and march down the mountain to meet Gretel. With every spell uttered and small magic conjured the nagging feeling began to die behind a rush of euphoric bliss.