He said "I bet you don't remember me"
The woodsman chuckles warmly as Kaisel collides with his chest, one broad hand coming down by reflex to steady the boy before he can stumble backward onto the roots. There is nothing sharp in the sound at first, only the deep, easy amusement of a man who has just been run into by a child made mostly of panic and momentum. As Kaisel’s fingers clutch at his sleeves, however, the laughter fades, and the woodsman’s brows draw together with immediate concern.
"A witch, you say?" he asks, looking past Kaisel toward the path as though expecting the terrible thing to come crashing through the trees at any moment. His jaw sets. The axe shifts against his shoulder as he straightens, suddenly every inch the sort of man who chops firewood, frightens wolves from doorways, and does not permit small boys to be hunted through forests by hungry old women. "Well," he says, voice dropping into something reassuringly firm, "we can’t have that, now can we?"
Without waiting for more, he starts forward with long, purposeful strides, guiding Kaisel with him back through the trees and toward the place where the candy cottage had stood. Only when the house comes into view, it is no longer made of chocolate and gumdrops. The walls are plain whitewashed timber now, the roof thatched instead of sugar-spun, and a neat little trail of smoke curls from the chimney as though nothing frightening has ever lived there at all.
In the doorway stands an old woman. She is soft and round and kindly looking, with silver hair tucked beneath a kerchief and a shawl gathered around her shoulders. When she sees the woodsman approaching, she lifts one hand in a warm little wave, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes as though she has been expecting friendly company rather than accusations of child murder.
The woodsman slows, frowning. He glances down at Kaisel, one brow lifting in quiet confusion. "Is this who you meant?"
Behind his turned back, the old woman’s smile widens. Her eyes shift first, the gentle brown curdling into a sharp wolf-yellow gleam, and then her lips peel away from a mouth full of too many teeth. For that sliver of a moment, all grandmotherly softness vanishes, and she flashes Kaisel a grin that promises she knows exactly what he tastes like.
"A witch, you say?" he asks, looking past Kaisel toward the path as though expecting the terrible thing to come crashing through the trees at any moment. His jaw sets. The axe shifts against his shoulder as he straightens, suddenly every inch the sort of man who chops firewood, frightens wolves from doorways, and does not permit small boys to be hunted through forests by hungry old women. "Well," he says, voice dropping into something reassuringly firm, "we can’t have that, now can we?"
Without waiting for more, he starts forward with long, purposeful strides, guiding Kaisel with him back through the trees and toward the place where the candy cottage had stood. Only when the house comes into view, it is no longer made of chocolate and gumdrops. The walls are plain whitewashed timber now, the roof thatched instead of sugar-spun, and a neat little trail of smoke curls from the chimney as though nothing frightening has ever lived there at all.
In the doorway stands an old woman. She is soft and round and kindly looking, with silver hair tucked beneath a kerchief and a shawl gathered around her shoulders. When she sees the woodsman approaching, she lifts one hand in a warm little wave, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes as though she has been expecting friendly company rather than accusations of child murder.
The woodsman slows, frowning. He glances down at Kaisel, one brow lifting in quiet confusion. "Is this who you meant?"
Behind his turned back, the old woman’s smile widens. Her eyes shift first, the gentle brown curdling into a sharp wolf-yellow gleam, and then her lips peel away from a mouth full of too many teeth. For that sliver of a moment, all grandmotherly softness vanishes, and she flashes Kaisel a grin that promises she knows exactly what he tastes like.
and I said "only ever other memory"
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
