Snowdrop, collected by The Brothers Grimm page 2/4
The land sloped upward after a mile or so, and someone had built three stones steps into the earth to account for this. Above them, two rows of dead trees lined the path, and nailed to the first tree on either side, an ancient wooden sign:
STATE PROPERTY
NO TRESPASSING
River wondered for a moment what these words meant before he passed between the trees. He could see up ahead that the woods thickened, and before them stood a tiny shack like some sort to gate to whatever lay beyond.
He didn’t think he’d made a lot of noise, but the snap of twigs and other dead things beneath his feet lured out the occupant. A hag with long, greasy gray hair and too-big clothes that hung like empty sacks from her skeletal frame. He could barely see her face for all the wrinkles, and tumors that sprouted from her forehead and cheeks.
The witch.
“Well look at you,” she cawed. “Better fed than most, it seems! Come inside, child, you look tired! Perhaps I have some goodies inside to help keep you plump…”
River did not leave the path though his bare feet ached. He glanced down at the ground in front of the shack, and saw something white half-buried there. The harder he looked, the more fragments he saw strewn about, small pieces of bone that might have come from an animal. Many people survived by eating rats and mice.
More and more chose larger fare.
“No, thank you. I have to be going.”
“Not even a few moments to spend with a lonely old woman? Come in, warm yourself by the fire…”
“I have to go,” he insisted, edging his way toward the other side of the path, further from her.
“Why?” she shrieked. Her fingers turned to claws reaching for him. River ran up the path, into the shelter of the trees that closed in around him. Her cries, like that of a dying bird, echoed in the gloomy forest.
The path tracked uphill, and River could see that some distance above him the trees began to thin out. He thought he could detect the shape of a building behind the bleached husks, flashes of red brick. River’s lungs clenched as he ascended the hill; when he coughed he spat out a clot or two of blood onto the dry and barren ground.
At the top of the hill River coughed again, and bent over to catch his breath. Then he looked up, and as if before his very eyes all the stories he had read came true, for a monstrous castle made of red bricks rose above the trees before him.
River stared in awe at the turrets and towers and arches of the fortress. Though the windows had been blown out and many of the roof’s slates lay shattered on the ground, the rest of the structure sustained surprisingly little damage. He walked up the long, cracked asphalt path, his stomach fluttering with thoughts of what--or who--might wait inside. Had they left their stronghold since the stars fell? It looked like they could have stored enough supplies to last all these decades within the vast brick walls.
