Mama Grizelda's Arc

Chapter 5 of 11

The witch's threat hung over the marsh like smoke. Grizelda knew she could not sit on the turtle forever. The purple witch would return, stronger, and Grizelda could not both guard the buried shell and hunt the enemy who circled it. She needed someone she trusted at the water while she moved. There was only one such person left, and Grizelda had not spoken to her in twenty years. She found the old woman on the path to the beanstalk cabin, leaning on a cane, one dark eye fixed on the mud. Mira Blackwood. Grizelda's oldest rival. The one who had returned to help bind Gregor, then gone quiet again. Under her black shawl the purple dress showed. She did not look up. "You've lost the color in your face," Mira said. "So the witch came back." "Not yet," Grizelda said. "But she will. I can't watch the shell and find her too." The words cost her. "I need you to hold the water while I hunt." Mira's one eye rose slowly. "You ask me now." A thin smile. "After twenty years of pretending I was dead." "I'm asking," Grizelda said. Jack splashed up between them, wet to the knees. "She's watching the tree line," he said. He pointed toward the far reeds. "Been there since dawn. Purple hat." Grizelda's stomach dropped. The witch had already come. There was no time to argue old grief. "Mira. Yes or no." Mira planted her cane in the mud. She walked to the buried spot and lowered herself over it, joints cracking, until her shawl spread on the black water. "Go," she said. "I remember the old rites better than you ever did. The shell stays down." Grizelda ran. Jack ran beside her, quick through the reeds. They cut wide, circling the witch's blind side. Grizelda found the bootprints, then the witch herself, crouched over a fresh charm of bone and green thread. She was tying a new lure, stronger than the cloth. "Now," Grizelda said. She threw a fistful of salt across the charm. The bone charm cracked. The witch spun, staff up, but Jack was already at her belt, cutting the pouch loose with a stolen knife. Charms spilled into the mud. The witch screamed. She swung the staff and caught Grizelda across the shoulder. Grizelda fell into the water. But the salt had ruined the fresh lure, and Mira's grip held the shell down behind them. The witch had nothing left to pull with. She backed toward the deep, empty-handed. "You've only bought a season," she spat. Then she was gone into the mist. Grizelda rose from the water, shoulder throbbing. The witch had fled again, but this time driven off her charms and her plan. And Mira knelt over the anchor, holding it fast. For the first time in twenty years, Grizelda was not guarding the marsh alone.