Into the Wild(27)

Julie felt as if she’d been hit in the stomach. “T-task?” she repeated.

“I have emptied a dish of lentils into the ashes for you. You must separate them out,” the witch said. She pointed to a gray pile of dust and a silver bowl. “Succeed, and I shall reward you. Fail, and I shall have you for my dinner.” And then the witch took her broomstick and leapt off the lip of the porch.





Dazed, Julie sank down on the porch. What had just happened? Did her own grandmother really just threaten to eat her? Why didn’t Grandma remember her?

Julie thought of the New Little Red, blithely picking flowers. Grandma had acted like that, consumed by the fairy tale. Was it because she was in a fairy tale?

But that didn’t make sense. Julie was involved in a fairy-tale sequence now too, but she still had all her memories. She knew who she was. Why did Grandma have this weird amnesia but not Julie? What did the Wild do to her?

Maybe the Little Red woman had just cracked under the strain, but Grandma was one of the strongest personalities Julie knew. Julie had an awful thought: if the Wild had done this to Grandma, what had it done to Mom?

She had to get out of here. She had to find Mom. Julie jumped to her feet and hurried to the ladder . . .

It wasn’t there. Dropping to her stomach, she looked over the lip of the porch. No ladder. The witch must have taken it. How was Julie going to get down?

She studied the surrounding trees. She’d never climbed a tree so tall in her life. She reached out to touch a branch. The chicken legs took a step backward, and the leaves slipped out of her fingers. She was trapped. What was she going to do?

A blackbird cleared its throat. “Ahem?”

She looked up. The bird she’d freed! The first animal helper! She was saved! “Can you help me get down?”

He ruffled his feathers, confused. “No. But you have lentils in the ashes.”

For an instant, she had no idea what he was talking about, and then she remembered the witch’s task. “Oh. Right.” She shouldn’t have been surprised: he was an animal helper, and here was his task. “Please, be my guest.” Leaning back his head, the bird caroled. Leaves shook as fluttering sounds filled the woods, and birds burst out of the branches and swooped onto the porch. A mass of feathers, the birds pecked at the pile of ashes. Lentil after lentil hit the dish with tiny pings.

As suddenly as they had come, the birds swarmed into the air and vanished in a flurry of wings. “Uh, thanks,” she said to the empty air. She didn’t know whether to feel grateful or unnerved. She picked up the lentils as the witch swooped onto the porch.

“Basted or broiled?” the witch said.

“Grandma . . .” Her throat clogged. Oh, Grandma! Seeing her like this . . . it was wrong. Yes, Julie knew the stories, but they were Grandma’s past. She’d left this behind centuries ago. She wasn’t evil anymore. She was Julie’s grandmother—fun and smart and sweet and wild.

Julie held out the dish, and the witch reached for it. Instinctively, Julie gripped the bowl. “Can you hear me, Grandma?” She searched the witch’s red eyes. Somewhere deep inside the witch was Grandma. She had to be. Julie refused to believe she was gone. “I know you’re in there. Grandma, it’s me, Julie. Rapunzel’s daughter. Remember Zel?”

Gothel’s face contorted, and Julie held her breath—did she remember?—then the expression vanished. Julie’s heart sank. The witch yanked the dish out of her hands and threw it against the wall of the house. Lentils spilled over the floor.

“There are a thousand pearls hidden on the forest floor,” the witch said. “You must gather them for me.” Grabbing hold of Julie, the witch pulled her onto the broom. Julie yelped as the broom zoomed out of the doorway and then burst up through the branches of the trees.

Julie and the witch skimmed low over the leaves. Gripping the broom, Julie tucked her feet up as branches slapped her ankles. “Ow, ow, ow!” Without warning, the witch pointed the nose of the broom down, and they dove straight between the trees. Shrieking, Julie shut her eyes as the ground raced up at them. Inches from impact, the witch pulled the broom straight and they zipped over the ground. Dodging trees trunks, they flew along the forest floor.

The witch pulled to a stop, and Julie slid over the front of the broom. She clung to the tip, and the witch rapped Julie’s fingers with knobbed knuckles. Julie released the broom. A foot from the ground, she landed hard.

Cackling, the witch flew off into the forest. Slowly, Julie’s heart rate returned to normal and her stomach settled down from her throat. She looked at the surrounding forest, silent and waiting. I could run, she thought. Grandma was gone, and she was out of the chicken house. She could escape this fairy tale and go back to searching for Mom.