Free Gretel by Christopher Coleman Page A

kept her eyes riveted to the cloaked figure and watched intently as the woman walked toward the corner of the room opposite the bed and set the tray on a thin black wrought iron table.
    The woman paused for a moment at the tray, making sure everything was just so, and then stood erect, turning toward Anika and lowering her hood. “Which question would you like answered first?” she said pragmatically, without emotion.
    Anika was surprised at the normalcy of the woman’s features, expecting something closer to a stereotypical hag from the fairy tales, decrepit and grotesque, slightly green perhaps. In fact, Anika guessed the woman was maybe only twenty years older than she, though her skin appeared more weathered-looking and hardened than that. Anika supposed she would have described the woman as homely, and rather unremarkable in every way, though with a little effort she would have probably cleaned up decently. She did notice, however, her mouth seemed a bit large for her face.
    A glint of recognition flashed in Anika’s mind, but it was subtle, and Anika hadn’t the luxury to pursue it at the moment. “Why am I chained?” she answered.
    Without hesitation the woman responded, “You are chained because I don’t know you. And though, admittedly, you don’t look like much of a threat, I have been robbed by nicer-looking creatures than yourself. With no intended insult of course.”
    Anika detected an aged quality to the woman’s voice, and perhaps an accent that had diminished over time. “So you keep an anchored chain in your bedroom—just in case you meet any strangers?”
    The sarcasm wasn’t lost on the woman and she smiled, picking up the plate of food and carrying it to Anika’s bedside. “This room was at one time used as a slaughterhouse. Some of the instruments remain.”
    Anika was skeptical of this answer, but decided she would be well-advised not to challenge it; besides, the approaching plate of food quickly became the main subject of her focus. She had literally never been this hungry before, and tears filled her eyes at the prospect of eating.
    The woman set the tray down at the foot of Anika’s bed and then turned and walked toward the door as if to leave the room.
    Anika’s eyes were locked in on the three small pies that sat neatly on the tray, the smells arising from them suggesting a combination of both meat and fruit. Anika’s throat convulsed in hunger, but as the door opened, she resisted her desires for a moment and said, “Why did you hit me?”
    The woman stopped at the threshold of the door, as if surprised at Anika’s restraint, and turned back toward the bed. This time the woman did not smile, but instead looked sympathetic, caring. “We all need to eat,” she said, and then walked out.
    Anika watched her leave, and then dug her fingers into the pie closest to her, shoving irregular pieces into her mouth, barely swallowing between bites. The tastes were delicious, and though Anika realized her hunger probably clouded her judgment, she could think of nothing else she had ever eaten that tasted quite this good. Moments later, before Anika had devoured the last pie, the cloaked woman entered the room again, this time carrying a large black pot.
    “Your toilet,” she said placing it beside the bed. “Summon me when it needs emptying.” The woman turned to leave.
    “Wait.” Anika shoved the last piece of crust into her mouth. She swallowed the last morsel without chewing it, and then, “Thank you, these were delicious. You’re quite talented.” Anika was still unsure of the woman’s motives, but she figured flattery couldn’t hurt. And the pies really were amazing.
    “You’re welcome.”
    “I’m feeling much better. Food and rest: what better medicine is there?” Anika paused, waiting for some reciprocation to her attempt at rapport. The woman stayed silent. “Perhaps you could show me back to the road.” Anika looked down at the chain around her ankle. “Clearly