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The Witch In The Woods

a fantasy by Alex Reynard

It suddenly struck him that when he'd escaped through his bedroom window, he'd left it open and the wind might blow away his homework assignment. He almost had to laugh at how ridiculous it was to care about that, since he didn't ever plan on going back home.

Brandon was a young wolf, having turned ten just a month ago. His fur was mostly a shiny silver grey, with white on his muzzle and tummy, and black on his feet and the tip of his tail. He got good grades in school, he had many friends, he loved to read and draw pictures. And his father hated him.

Well, maybe that was too strong a word. If anything, it seemed like more and more his father just simply couldn't care less about him. Or anything else, for that matter.

Brandon's family life had been fairly happy up until his mother's death. She died suddenly, with no warning or way to intervene, but at least she had gone painlessly. Brandon still saw flashes of himself staring at her coffin at her funeral.

As if that hadn't hit him hard enough, his father had gotten lost in his grief, and had never found his way back. He threw himself headlong into self-pity. Gradually he was unable to concentrate on hardly anything else.

Brandon felt sorry for his dad sometimes. But he'd gotten over his mother's death a long time ago. (Well, not entirely, of course. His heart still hurt sometimes, but not enough to stand in the way of his life) He didn't understand why his father was still acting as if it had just happened.

Over time, they drifted further and further apart. They had stopped doing all the fun father-son things they used to a long time ago. His father didn't even leave the house much anymore. Nowadays, they barely even spoke to each other.

Except, of course, for the only instance where Brandon's father showed any interest in his son's life; his continued insistence that Brandon be on some sort of sports team at school. It had started as just a few suggestions here and there, but had blown up into screaming fights that seemed to come every other day now. Brandon liked playing outside with his friends, true. He was pretty good at baseball and soccer, but he didn't think he was good enough to play on a team, and he knew he didn't have the time to devote to all the games. Also, he just didn't want to. It made him angry that he couldn't remember the last time his father had said 'I love you', or even called him son, but he nevertheless insisted on running Brandon's life anyway.

Tonight had been the last straw. They'd been at the dinner table, tensely eating something bland and pre-cooked and trying not to make eye contact. Out of nowhere, Dad had started in again about the sports. Brandon growled hard, his teeth gnashing. He suddenly leaped up from the table and shouted that he was not now or ever going to join a team because he didn't want to and he wished his father would just shut the hell up about it.

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Not because they weren't true, but because he knew he was in deep trouble now.

He ran from the kitchen as fast as he could. His father raged after him. Brandon had almost made it up the stairs to his room when he felt a strong paw clench around his ankle, slamming him to the floor. His father snatched him up by his shirt and bellowed at him, his muzzle an inch from Brandon's face and his spit flying everywhere.

And then he drew back and slapped Brandon as hard as he could.

The boy crumpled to the floor, barely keeping tears away, while the father looked vaguely surprised at what he'd done. He then went back downstairs and finished his meal.

Brandon slunk to his room afterwards and finally let himself cry. The pain from the slap faded from his face long before it faded from his heart. It was made so much worse because Brandon had always cherished a strong, clear memory of when he was little; he'd done something bad, and his father had very nearly hit him, but stopped himself at the last second. Then he knelt down and apologized to Brandon. Then he promised that he would never, ever hit him. _Ever_. And until now, his father had always been just in control of himself to keep that promise.

Until now...

Brandon wept because this meant there was no going back. His father had finally crossed the one permanent line. Things would never be the same between them. Things would never get any better. Brandon felt his hope drain away like water through a sieve.

And then he remembered the story about the witch.

Everyone knew about the witch. Though it was hard to find anyone who actually claimed to have seen her. Every parent in their whole town told their kids never to go too far into the woods to the east. A witch had lived there for longer than anyone remembered, and more than anything else she loved to capture little children and eat them. Many, many little furs had nightmares of being lost in the woods and being caught by the fearsome witch. Brandon was one of them.

Now, however, his nightmare was his reality. He didn't really believe in the old story. But if it was true... It would be a solution of sorts.

Brandon slipped his window open, climbed across the branches to the tree just outside his room, and shinnied down the trunk. On his bed was a note. All it said was 'I'm never coming back.'

Hours passed. Brandon was as exhausted as he was lost. The moon was nearly full overhead. Everything was tinted a cool cobalt blue. All around were hundreds upon hundreds of trees. Insect sounds filled the air. He was panting so long his breath was starting to taste like blood and pennies.

He knew now that he'd have to spend the night here. He was way too tired to even think of walking back, even if he had known the way. He'd crawl back home the next day, maybe making it back by lunchtime, and he'd have to face his father. He could feel the embarrassment in his cheeks already. He could perfectly picture himself standing there, listening to his father lecture him endlessly. Maybe he would even hit him some more. The thought of it was enough to make Brandon slump to the ground and cup his face in his paws.

Brandon suddenly felt very stupid. He let out a primal howl of rage; at himself, at his father, at everything and anything. He kicked the ground. He snatched up handfuls of grass. He picked up rocks and threw them. He hit his head against the tree trunk behind him. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

He felt his tears flow past his neck to soak into the collar of his shirt. He wished as hard as he could for some other way, any other way, than to have to go back home to that nightmare...

Eventually, he looked up. And he saw a light in the distance.

It didn't look too far away. It certainly wasn't a town light, he could tell from where the mountains were on the horizon that the direction was all wrong. Probably someone's cabin. And if the light was on, someone was probably inside. Brandon did not have to be told that curling up on someone's couch for the night was a lot better than trying to fall asleep next to a tree. The little wolf got to his feet again and headed for the light.

About halfway there, he could make out the shape of the cabin against the night dark. It looked mostly wooden, and probably had two floors. The roof slanted like a big 'A'. There was a little wisp of smoke coming out of the chimney.

All at once, a childish pang of fear rustled inside him. In his anger and anguish, he'd set off to find the witch in the woods, wanting her to just eat him up and end all his troubles. It hadn't taken him long to realize how silly that was. But what if the stories really were true? What if he had actually found the witch? And what if she really did want to eat him? Brandon took in a long, deep breath and continued walking. After what had happened tonight, he really didn't care about any of that. At least, he didn't want to care.

Brandon found himself on the doorstep. His tail was tucked a little ways between his legs. Up close, he could see that someone was definitely living here. The light came from one of the livingroom windows. They were a bit too high for him too peek in, but he could see flower boxes on each sill. There was also a little garden to the side. Brandon actually laughed when he noticed the broomstick propped against the side of the house. How very appropriate!

Mustering his courage, and thinking about spending the night someplace warm, Brandon reached out and pressed the doorbell. He heard something move inside. Then footsteps approaching the door.

A small voice in his brain suddenly screamed to just turn around Right Now and Run Like Hell. Brandon managed to ignore it.

The door swung open. The person who answered it was not at all what Brandon expected, but at the same time he was absolutely certain he'd found the witch after all.

She was a very tall and bountifully curvaceous mouse woman. Her fur was a light tan, like brown sugar, but her hair was very orange and it poofed out all along her head in uncombed but elegant curls. She looked surprisingly young, certainly not hundreds of years old. In fact, she didn't look any older than his dad. She was wearing a dark purple housedress with white lace around the sleeves, hem, and rather low neckline. Around her throat was a thin gold necklace with a huge teardrop ruby hanging from the center. Her eyes were wide, and seemed to shift from color to color as the light moved over them. Her nose was a perfect pink triangle.

When she saw Brandon, a bright, bouncy smile sprang to her face. "Why, hello young wolf! What brings you all the way out here so late?"

Brandon was just about to speak.

She put a delicate finger to her lips in thought. "Wait... Let me guess. You ran away from home, didn't you? And you saw my house and decided to risk knocking on my door in hopes of spending the night here, rather than out in the cold woods. Am I right?"

Brandon's mouth hung open.

She reached out and shut it gently with her fingertip. "I'll take that as a yes. Why don't you come in and sit down? Your feet must be aching after walking all the way here from town." The mousewitch turned aside and gestured for Brandon to enter.

He was still scared (and amazed at how well she'd pegged him), but he was happy to find her attitude so welcoming. "Should I take my shoes off first?" he asked.

"No, that's allright. Very polite of you to ask though," she replied.

Brandon stepped into the house and she closed the door behind him.

Brandon's head swivelled all around. His first impression of the witch's house was: 'This place is cool!' He could see into both the livingroom and the kitchen from here. There was an enormous fireplace in the livingroom, big enough for him and a few friends to stand up in. A bright roaring fire was thrashing about in it. All the furniture looked very ornamental and old-fashioned, but also very plush and comfortable. There were rugs scattered all over the place; some furry and some woven with intricate geometric patterns. There were about a dozen bookshelves that reached almost to the ceiling. They were all filled to bursting with more books than Brandon had ever seen outside a library. Hiding amongst the books were all sorts of other trinkets, containers, decorations and myriad other things he'd never seen before. The remaining space on the walls was taken up with lots of oil paintings, framed photographs, large masks and hanging swords. In the kitchen, shelves swelled with hundreds of containers of strange ingredients. The sink was piled high with dishes. He noticed a refrigerator the size of his dad's car. The whole house had a scattershot, haphazard feel to it. Brandon reasoned that any adult whose place was as messy as a kid's room couldn't be all bad.

"Come, sit down. Put your feet up," the witch beseeched, patting the side of a big burgundy-colored armchair by the fire.

Brandon decided 'why not?'. He went over to the chair and fell backwards into its softness. Boy did it ever feel good to sit down! He let out a sigh of relief and pleasure. This was one of the five comfiest chairs he'd ever sat in in his life.

The witch came over and knelt down beside him. She slid over a big red footstool with wooden feet painted to look like brass. She lifted up Brandon's feet and set them down on the footstool. She began untying his shoelaces.

"Uh, that's okay. You don't have to," Brandon told her.

She just smiled softly. "I don't mind. I like to make visitors comfortable," she said in such a way as to suggest a playful hidden meaning. She popped off his shoes, releasing his sweaty socks and their powerful odor. "Peeeee-yew! Stinky!" she exclaimed.

Brandon grinned sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"Well, can't be helped. Anyone walking as long as you probably have is bound to have a touch of bhromodrosis."

"What?"

"That's the scientific name for stink-foot."

"Oh. I didn't know that."

"And now you do," she said with a motion in the air like a professor tapping the blackboard with a pointer. "Say, I was just about to get myself a snack. Would you like anything? Something to drink, perhaps?" she offered.

"Oh, no, thank you! I don't want to be..."

She cut him off. "Pffft! I was getting something anyway. I'd be glad to share. Besides, stories go well with snacks, and I wager you have one of the former and could use some of the latter. Be back in a second," she said with a flick of her long tail. As she headed towards the kitchen, Brandon noticed for the first time that she was just wearing socks too, and hers were bright green.

Brandon felt a little confused. No, more than just a little. This had to be a witch's house. It just _had_ to be! And she was definitely weird enough to be a witch herself. But she was being so nice! That's what was really vexing him. He'd always assumed that a witch who ate up little kids would naturally be mean and nasty, and probably a little ugly too. But this mouse lady was the total opposite of that. She was, in fact, rather pretty.

The young wolf sunk back into the chair and closed his eyes. He kneaded the armrests in his paws. It was hard for him to believe this was all real. It seemed so long ago that he'd run away. It seemed like he must have been walking for days, and the fight already felt like a distant memory, probably because he wanted so badly to pretend it hadn't really happened.

But it *had* happened, and he was dealing with it. Maybe not in the smartest way he could have, he had to admit that. But this way felt somehow right. He just wanted to get away from everything. He wanted to run, to work out some of his anger physically. He wanted to get himself lost. And yes, he did want to scare his father too. He imagined his father's face when he found the note. Oh, he'd probably be angry at first, but he'd get more and more scared as time passed. Brandon wasn't going to feel bad about wanting to punish his father at least a little for how he'd hurt him.

Brandon glanced to his left and noticed a small endtable with a little jar shaped like a cauldron on it. It was mostly full of some kind of rough powder that looked like grey sand but glistened like glass.

"Take a guess."

Brandon yelped and swiveled around in a heartbeat.

"Oh my! Sorry I scared you!"

His heart was thudding. "You snuck up on me!"

"I didn't mean to. Sorry." She held out a tray to him. "See anything you like?"

Now that he'd calmed himself down, Brandon was able to notice the silver tray the witch was carrying. On it was a bunch of purple grapes, some sliced apple, several chunks of white cheese and some unidentified crackers. "Thanks. It looks very nice." He was hungrier than he'd expected and he took a little bit of everything. She handed him a paper napkin and a glass of milk.

"You're welcome, little one." The witch crossed to another armchair that was sitting opposite the one Brandon was in. She pulled it closer and plopped down in it. "Care to take a guess what that powder is?"

Brandon blinked. "Um... I don't know."

"Correct!"

"Huh?"

"Well, if you don't know what it is, than that's a correct answer!" she reasoned.

Brandon chuckled. "Okaaaay..."

The femmemouse steepled her fingers. "Now, a better question to ask is... What do you think I am?" She leaned forward with a little smirk, studying the young wolf carefully.

Brandon wasn't sure what to do. He felt like she was going to analyze whatever he answered. He thought for a bit, and stuttered a little, before deciding to be brave and give her a bold answer she wouldn't be expecting. "Are you... a witch?" he asked quietly.

She settled back in her chair and her grin got bigger. "Correct again, little wolf. Good answer," she purred.

So he was right all along. He honestly didn't know how or if that changed the situation any.

She suddenly leaned forward, the electricity of a carnival barker in her gaze, and looked him right in the eyes. "Now I'm going to use my mystical witchy powers to guess your name," she said theatrically. She put her index fingers to her temples and moved them in circles. She stuck out her tongue, looking like she was concentrating really hard. "Your... name... is..."

Brandon leaned forward in expectation.

"Is..." She built up the tension to a peak. "Is... Fred!"

"Nope," he said, a little disappointed.

"Bob?"

"No."

"Harold?"

"No."

"Jebediah, maybe?"

He burst out giggling.

The witch acted frustrated. "Well, shoot. I guess it'd be more efficient if you'd just tell me."

"Okay. I'm Brandon." he reached out his paw for a shake.

She took it and gave a firm squeeze. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Brandon. My name is Cassandra Vanessa Bloodmoon Thorpington the fourteenth," she announced regally.

"Really!?"

She grinned. "Nope. I'm kidding. I'm just plain ol' Belinda Willow. But you can just call me Belinda instead. It's been my nickname forever, and I've never really been sure why," she said, playing at being puzzled.

He couldn't resist a chuckle. "All right. I'm pleased to meet you too, Belinda." He took a bite of cheese. It wasn't a kind he'd tried before. It was strong, but tasty.

She glanced to the table beside his chair. "If you're still wondering about that powder, why don't you pick up the container and smell it?" she offered.

Brandon was understandably wary. "It's not gonna do something weird, is it?"

"Of course not! It's perfectly harmless," she reassured him.

Brandon, still not completely sure, sat down his snacks and reached over to carefully pick up the tiny cauldron. It was heavier than he expected. He didn't think that someone who'd just given him milk and snacks would try to hurt him, but it certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

He held the little container in both hands and took a tentative sniff. "It smells like peaches," he noted to himself.

"Petrifica immoblios!" the witch suddenly shouted.

Brandon had barely enough time to register that he was turning to stone before he'd completely become a statue.

"See? Nothing weird at all. That was precisely what I expected would happen!" said Belinda.

Brandon was rather surprised he could still see and hear. He was completely unable to move; even his whiskers were frozen stiff. He was further surprised by the fact that being turned into stone felt kinda nice. It felt relaxing, in an odd way.

"And I was telling the truth about it being harmless. It doesn't feel bad at all, does it?" Belinda got up and removed the container from his frozen paws. She sat it back down on the endtable and put the lid back on. "I've been turned to stone quite a few times myself. It was one of many spells my siblings and I used to constantly use on each other when we were growing up." She walked back and ran a soft paw over Brandon's hair, now turned smooth and hard. "It's mostly a self-working spell. All you have to do is get even the scent of the particles into your intended target. Then say the words and Presto! They'll be a perfect statue for as long as you want. And when you want to change them back, all you have to do is say the incantation backwards, which of course is 'soilbommi acifirtep'."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, a wave of warmth spread over Brandon as he changed back to his regular self. He shook his head and patted himself all over. "Whoa!"

The witch sat back down in her chair. "I hope I didn't frighten you, Brandon. I only wanted to show you that, yes, I really am an honest-to-gosh witch. I didn't think you'd fully believe me otherwise without a little demonstration," she explained.

Brandon took this in only partially, as he was still trying to make himself believe what had just happened. "You turned me into a statue!"

"Correct again!" she said brightly.

"How did you turn me into a statue?!?"

"I thought I explained it pretty well. You just get someone to smell..."

Brandon shook his head. "No, I mean, I know that. I mean... I don't know what I mean!!"

She nodded. "I think I understand anyway. Up until just this moment you didn't believe in magic and now you want to know if you're going totally batshit insane, am I right?"

He clamped a paw over his mouth to stifle a huge laugh. He'd never heard that particular term before. He managed to nod.

She giggled at his reaction. "Well, unless you have some other problems I don't know about, I can assure you that your brain is functioning perfectly. There really is magic all around us, but very few people know how to use it." She waggled her finger at him. "Tell me, is it logical to think that just because you personally don't know how to fly a jet airplane that it can't possibly work?"

He pondered this. "I guess not."

"Same with magic. Just because you've never seen it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. And card tricks don't count."

He laughed again. Despite having just been momentarily turned into a life-size lawn ornament, Brandon felt surprisingly comfortable around the witch. "Okay, I understand. Are all those books magic books?" he asked, gesturing towards the many bookshelves.

"Those? Oh, gosh no! I wish I had that many grimoires!" Sensing his confusion, she clarified; "Fancy name for a magic book."

"Oh."

She let her eyes wander over the hundreds of colorful spines. "No, most of those are novels, reference books, cook books, whatever. A lot of them came with the house. Most of the ones on the top shelf are just there for decoration." She winked at him. "I think you can tell I like decorations," she stage-whispered.

He gawked around at all of it too. "Yeah! You've got more neat junk hanging up on your walls than I have in my whole room!"

She tipped back her head and let out a belly laugh. "I love it! Priceless treasures from every corner of the globe, and you classify it all as 'neat junk'! Correct answer again, little one! Correct answer, indeed!"

They laughed together for a bit. It felt good to laugh so hard. He hadn't in a long time.

When he finished, he looked up to see she was looking right into his eyes. Her expression was serious, and surprisingly, almost startlingly caring. It turned his laughter to concerned interest in a split second.

"Brandon," she said in a velvet tone, "I have another question for you. I'm sure you know the answer, but it may be hard to give it nonetheless." She smiled ever-so-gently.

"W-what is it?"

When her question finally came, his whole world shrank to just her seven sad words.

"Why did you run away from home?"

Brandon felt something twist inside him. His throat tightened and his lip trembled. In an instant all his memories rushed in and clutched him.

Before he could stop himself, he was crying so hard he could barely see.

Belinda was out of her chair in an instant. The little wolf had his head in his paws, shaking all over with absolutely silent sobs. She moved his snacks to the side, and then put her arms around him tenderly. "It's okay, little one..."

He reached out to return her hug. It had been literally years since anyone had held him while he cried. He found that he missed the feeling so badly it hurt. He couldn't speak a word. He wanted to though. He wanted to pour out his whole story for her. Somehow, he knew instinctively that she would not laugh at him, or make fun of him, or think he was a 'sissy' no matter what he told her. He wanted to let it all out. Everything that hurt inside him that he'd wanted to tell someone, anyone, for so long.

He wanted to tell her about how much it killed him inside when his mother had gone away. He wanted to say how much he loved her, how much he missed her, how little he'd understood of what was happening at the time of her death, and how there had never been an answer to his question of 'why?'. He wanted to tell her how much he'd wanted to strangle that one kid at school who'd laughed when he found out about his mother's death. He wanted to tell her how hard it had been when his father had crumpled like a leaf, and it had fallen upon Brandon to keep the house from falling apart, when really all he wanted was to crawl under his blankets and escape into a dream where none of it was happening. He wanted to tell her how much his friends had helped him get through his sadness, and how little his father had done anything at all. He wanted to tell her how he didn't understand why his father had suddenly become a child and he'd been forced to become an adult. He wanted to tell her how in the weeks and months that followed, it gradually dawned on him that his dad was gone forever too, and a new man had taken his place. A weak man who could barely drag himself through the day, who spent every thought on his own misery and spared none for his son. He wanted to tell her how he'd had to teach himself how to cook and clean and do laundry and wash dishes because his father gradually stopped doing all of those things after a while. He wanted to tell her about his father's stupid, crazy fixation on him playing on some dumb sports team at school, as if his schedule wasn't impossible enough already. He wanted to tell her about the fight they'd had that night, and of all the fights that came before. He wanted to tell her how his father had broken the promise he'd kept for years. He wanted to tell her that he was scared to go back home ever again.

He looked into her eyes, and his soul told her all she needed to know.

Belinda gasped at the sorrow trapped in those beautiful brown eyes. She held the little wolf closer. "I..." There were no words she could say. She could only hold him until his tears dried up.

And, after a while, they did. A long while, longer than he'd expected, Brandon noticed he wasn't crying anymore. His foot had even fallen asleep. He sniffed back a last sob. He sighed. "Thank you," he said to Belinda in a voice that was barely a whisper.

The mousewitch heard nonetheless. "I was glad to, Brandon. You don't need to tell me anything at all yet. I know. I saw it in your eyes. I don't need anything more to be certain that you didn't just run away; you escaped."

He nodded. "I wish it could be like it was before..."

She patted his hand. "Everyone does, sometimes."

"Even you?"

She nodded. "Sometimes. I may not wish as much as you do, or for the same things, but..." Thoughts of past regrets blew past in the winds of her memory. "Sometimes, yes."

He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. His mouth was dry, and he reached out to get a sip of milk. It had gotten warm, but he didn't mind.

"Brandon..."

"Yes?"

"There's something else I'd like to ask," she told him quietly

"Okay."

"I assume you've heard the stories about what the evil witch in the woods does to little boys and girls that she captures."

He nodded.

"Did you come here on purpose, thinking that that's what I would do to you?"

It hurt to admit it, but he wanted to be truthful. "At first, yes."

And then she said something wholly unexpected. "I can, you know."

"You what?!" he barked in alarm.

"I can eat you up, if that's what you'd like."

He had no idea how to respond. He was shocked into silence.

"I have eaten many young furs before. Many of them, in fact nearly all of them, came here just like you did. They wanted to escape from a life that had turned on them. I give you my word, I have never eaten anyone who wasn't completely willing."

"A-are you g-going to eat me?" he asked, his voice shaking in fright.

She looked hurt by his fear. "Sweetheart, please don't be scared. I would never dream of harming you! If you want to, you can get up and run out of here right now and never return. I wouldn't even call out to you. Is that what you want?"

"Well..." He didn't know what to want anymore. Just a moment ago, he was sharing a gentle embrace with this mouse, and now she had admitted to being a cannibal! His mind was desperately trying to fit the two pieces together, but they just wouldn't mesh. "Why would anyone ever want to be eaten?"

"Well, for starters, it's nothing like you've probably imagined it before. The way I do it, there's no fear or pain, not even any blood."

"It didn't hurt? When you, um, I mean..."

She seemed repulsed by the very notion. "Heavens no! I know plenty of spells to prevent pain. I even cooked several of the little ones, and they all told me it felt wonderful. I've never had anyone complain. Not once. They all went into my tummy with smiles on their faces." She patted his paw. Her tone was as sincere as she could make it. "This isn't something that I do for myself. I do it because it's what they all wanted me to do for them."

She looked deeply into his eyes. Her own flashed green, blue and violet. "Brandon, look deep into your heart and ask yourself what you want from me. Remember; you came here by your own choice. You walked a very long way to get here. No one spends that much time and energy to reach a place and have no idea what they expect to find there."

Her words were calm and soft. What struck Brandon the most was that there was not a single iota of coercion in them. She was not trying to influence him in any way, other than urging him to be honest with himself.

'Well then,' Brandon asked himself, 'what *do* I think about all this?'

He did not think she was lying about anything. She'd shown herself to be nothing but honest so far. He had no reason to disbelieve her. She had eaten other boys and girls. And they had gone willingly. And it was their own choice. And it had not hurt. He believed all of it completely.

So then, what did he want? What did he really and truly want? Did he want to trudge back home in the morning, only to face shame and punishment? Did he want to go back to a father who was more of a child than he was? Did he want to keep on taking care of the person who should have been taking care of him?

No.

Did he want to get hit again?

_No_.

Did he want to stay here? Did he want to accept that he had indeed come here for a reason? Did he want to accept that he could have turned back at any time, and yet he hadn't? Did he want to accept that the whole reason he picked this destination, out of all the others he could have chosen, was because he was hoping for exactly what she'd told him others had come for?

Yes.

Did he want it all to go away?

_Yes_.

It hurt to admit it, but it was true, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He knew, beyond all doubt, that he didn't ever want to go back to where he'd run away from.

No, not ran away. 'Escaped'.

Correct answer.

He felt his whole body shiver. He felt himself start to speak. "If... if you did eat me... what would happen?"

She had a wise smile, as if she was not at all surprised by what she knew he'd decided. "That depends, little one. What would you like to have happen?"

"I don't understand."

"Well, there are a lot of ways I could eat you. I could cook you first. There's several ways I could do that. All of them completely, totally painless, and you'd be awake the whole time," she reassured. "I could nibble away at you, eating you up bit by bit..." She tickled up along his belly and chest as she said this, and was rewarded with a giggle. "Or I could just swallow you whole."

For some reason, that seemed to spark his attention. "Really? How would I fit? It'd be impossible!"

"It can't be impossible because I've done it before. Quite a few times, actually. It's what a lot of my meals have chosen. It's the simplest and gentlest way, actually. You just glide down inside, like slipping into a sleeping bag."

Something about that thought sent pleasurable chills up Brandon's spine. His tail wagged a little.

"Does that sound nice?"

Hesitantly, he nodded.

"Brandon, I'll respect any decision you make. I will not force you to do anything. If you're uncomfortable with the tiniest part, we can stop." She took his paws in hers and gave them a light squeeze. "Brandon, honestly, would you like me to eat you?"

He'd already decided, but still it was near impossible to say it. Finally, he just made his mind a blank and let it blurt out before he could think about it too much. "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" More confidently now.

"Would you like me to swallow you whole?"

"Do you promise it won't hurt?"

"I do. I promise. If I'm lying, you can bite me all the way down!"

He smiled. "Okay, then. You can eat me."

She pulled him close into a loving hug. "Thank you, Brandon. I'd love to eat you! I'd love to make you feel as happy as you can be!"

He relaxed into the hug. For the first time, he noticed that her hair smelled nice.

Suddenly, he giggled.

"Hmm?"

"I just realized how funny it is; you're a mouse and I'm a wolf, yet you're the one who's going to eat me!"

She laughed too. "Well, I'm all for equality. Cute little wolves should have the opportunity to be prey if they want to!"

He smiled brightly. "I do want to." He was surprised at how good it felt to say that. "How is it going to happen?"

"Well, first you have to drink a few potions I have laying around somewhere so that it won't hurt any. I need to drink one too, to make sure I can stretch enough to fit you in my tummy."

Her saying that made Brandon's heart give a little jump. He was really going through with it! He was really going to let her eat him! True, he was a little frightened, but an even bigger part of him was excited.

Belinda leaned in to give his nose a nuzzle. "Let's go to the kitchen, and I'll whip us up some magic, okay?"

"Okay."

She took his paw in hers and they walked together to the kitchen.

As Belinda busied herself trying to find all the necessary potions and components, Brandon was content to just look around at all the neat stuff. He was half expecting to see some of the ingredients moving, there was so many strange things filling the shelves.

The mousewitch plopped an armful of stuff down on the counter. She turned back to Brandon for a moment. "Why don't you hop up on the table there," she suggested. "I don't want to eat off the floor," she kidded.

He giggled. He pulled himself up onto her big wooden table. The top was smooth and waxy. "Do you have a big plate I could lie on?"

"Actually, I do. Do you really want to?"

"No, that's okay. I was just joking."

She nodded and went back to mixing up her various potions.

He kicked his feet back and forth and tried to see around her what she was doing.

"Ah, there we go." She held up a measuring cup full of some gooey grey substance. "Potion numero uno."

It did not look at all appetizing. In fact, it looked like something he'd use in art class. "Do I really have to drink that?"

"Huh? Oh, no! This one's for me!" And with that, she tipped it over and chugged the whole thing. He was impressed. She finished and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "Ahhhh! It actually tastes a lot better than it looks."

"Are mine like that?"

She turned around and came back with two small cups. "Nope. The first one I mixed in with some cola, and the second one doesn't taste much like anything."

He eyed them suspiciously. "Oh well." He took the first cup and downed it. If he hadn't known different, he would have assumed it was just regular cola. The second one was a very light blue. He hesitated a bit, then downed it as well. She was right; it wasn't any worse than tap water. "How long do these take to work?"

"Not long. Just a minute or so. Long enough to get your clothes off."

"What?!?"

"Well, geez, I don't mean to embarrass you, but clothes are rather hard to digest. Especially pants. And, to be honest, I do not want to eat your socks!" They both giggled.

"Don't worry, it'll be like going to the doctor's office."

Considering that he was about to let her eat him, it did seem kind of silly to worry about her seeing him in the fur. "Allright." He pulled off his socks first, then his pants. She helped him pull off his shirt. He was more than a little reluctant to take down his underpants, but he finally got up the courage to, and they joined the little pile of clothes on the kitchen floor.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I guess not."

"By the way, you are a very handsome little wolf."

He blushed. "Um, thanks."

She slipped off her ruby necklace and, after looking around a little, hung it on the handle of a nearby pot. "Well, I think mine's working. My jaw feels all tingly. Ever seen a snake eat an egg on TV or somewhere?"

Something about that question tickled his memory, but it passed quickly. "Yeah, they showed us a science video last year that had that in it. I couldn't believe how wide he could stretch his mouth!"

"Well, I will soon prove to you that mice can do it too," she said with a musical inflection. "Just let me get my jaw loose here..." She then took hold of her lower jaw and moved it all around in a truly cringe-inducing performance.

"Eew."

She popped it back into place. "Everything looks to be in order. Now to check on you." Without warning, she reached over and gave his arm a hard pinch.

"Hey!" he said reflexively. "Wait, do that again."

She did.

Brandon was amazed. "Wow! It doesn't hurt! Not even a little bit! It worked!"

Belinda clapped her paws happily. "Great! Well then, I guess I'm ready to eat you. Or did you want to wait a while first. I should have asked beforehand. I just assumed..."

"No, it's okay. I'm ready," he said without hesitation.

She tussled his headfur. "Allright then. Headfirst or feetfirst?"

"Huh?"

"Which way do you want to slide down my throat?"

He thought about it a bit. "Ummm... Headfirst, I guess."

"Okey-doke." She came closer and put her paws on his shoulders. "Thank you again, little one."

"You're welcome. You said it wouldn't hurt, and I believe you."

"It makes me feel good to know you trust me so much. I promise this will feel very nice."

He smiled bravely. "I'm ready. Eat me. I hope I taste good."

She leaned close to give him a little kiss on his forehead. "I'm sure you will."

The witch closed her eyes and opened her mouth wide. Brandon found himself looking right down her throat. She gave his nose a little lick and he giggled. She cupped the back of his head in a gentle paw and began to press forward. She took his whole muzzle into her mouth with ease. The smell of her breath was very strong. Her saliva drizzled onto his fur. He heard a small pop from each side of her jaw, and it opened wider. His tail was wagging wildly. This was surprisingly exciting!

Belinda savored the delicious flavor of the young handsome wolf boy. She felt her lips begin to slide up his face and down towards his neck. She knew he would make an excellent meal. She couldn't wait to revel in the feeling of him tucked safely away in her tummy.

Her lips slipped past his eyes, and all he could see was a reddish darkness as his face moved towards her throat. He felt his ears pop past her lips. In one gulp, his whole head was in her mouth. She moved her head down nice and slow over his. His muzzle lined up perfectly with her throat. The twitching muscles took hold of his nose and began to guide his muzzle in. He was trembling all over. It was a little scary to let himself be pulled down inside. But it really did feel nice. And it was fun to just let go of his life and trust in the pretty witch.

She took hold of him under his armpits and began to lift him up more into her mouth. His head was quickly enveloped by her throat. That left the most problematic part of swallowing a little fur; the shoulders. She had an idea though. She took one of his paws in hers and guided it to her mouth.

Brandon wanted to be cooperative and slipped it inside. He reached all the way down her throat as far as he could. Without having to be asked, he moved his other paw to her lips and wiggled it in as well. Now he had both arms over his head like he was stretching. He could feel the muscles of her esophagus rippling along his arms. It felt like a massage. He was really looking forward to going in deeper.

Belinda held him up while she knelt down on the floor in front of him. she figured the easiest way to ingest him would be to let gravity assist her. Brandon had to lean forward a little. She snaked her tongue around to taste and tickle his armpits. She felt his laughter vibrating inside her and it felt wonderful. She so loved making her meals happy!

Brandon giggled and squirmed inside the nice warm throat. He tried to wriggle in time with the throat muscles so that he would go down quicker and easier. He wanted to be as helpful as he could be. The witch took his hips in her hands and began to push them forward. Brandon felt himself sinking deeper inside of her. He felt her lips and mouth around his chest, and the small added tightness when he took in a breath. He was surprised to find that he still was breathing, and he wasn't struggling to do it either.

The boy's fluffy grey tail was whipping back and forth in delight as Belinda gulped him down past his chest and then his tummy. Soon, his round little butt was in her mouth. She made soft growly noises and bit down playfully. He giggled and squirmed some more.

He was almost all the way in now. Belinda took his ankles and began to guide his legs in. Somewhere in her middle, Brandon's arms had passed through a tight ring of flesh and then his head popped through as well. It was dark inside, but he could somewhat make out an open area around him. 'This must be her tummy,' he realized. He'd expected it to be sorta stinky, but it wasn't too bad. It looked warm and comfy inside. He really wanted to be all the way inside of her!

Finally, all that remained of him was his paws sticking out. She glanced at her reflection in the chrome refrigerator and giggled in delight. She absolutely adored how she looked with cute little feet sticking out of her mouth! She couldn't resist tickling them. She flicked her tailtip back and forth across the padded soles. Peals of laughter rang from her stomach. The little paws wiggled all about. All of a sudden, they popped into her mouth and slithered down her throat. She hadn't even needed to swallow. Brandon had finished all by himself.

Brandon grinned ear to ear as he felt his legs slide down her throat. He turned himself around, doing his best not to hurt his mouse friend, as he got himself into a comfortable position. He'd done it! He was all the way inside! She'd really eaten him, and it had felt wonderful! "That was fun!" he cried out.

"Oh thank you, little one!" Belinda replied. They could hear each other just fine through her tummyflesh. "You were very tasty. A terrific meal!"

"Thanks! It was great getting eaten! I liked it a lot. It's really comfy in here." He squirmed about a bit, just enjoying how the tight, moist, warm chamber held him. It was like a big all-over hug.

Belinda patted her big swollen belly. "I'm so glad to hear that. Full bellies are nice, but bellies full of happy little boys are the best!" They both giggled. Belinda started out of the kitchen.

Brandon felt his little room shaking. "What's going on?"

The mousewitch kept her balance admirably as she made her way down the hall. "I'm going up to bed now, sweetheart. I always feel sleepy after a big meal, don't you?"

"Yeah. I remember how we'd all fall asleep on the couch after thanksgiving dinner when I was little."

Belinda held her round belly with care as she hefted herself up the staircase. "I really should have my bedroom on the ground floor, what with all the little kids I eat!" she remarked to herself.

Finally, she made it to her room. Her whole tummy shook as she fell back onto the bed.

"Yipes! Did you fall down?" Brandon asked, both alarmed and concerned.

"Just onto my bed. Everything's fine."

"Oh, okay."

She pulled off her dress, glad it was enchanted to stretch over her wolf-swollen stomach, and hung it on her closet doorknob. She took off her socks and panties and flung them across the room to the hamper. Then she slid herself to the center of the bed and shuffled under her nice thick fluffy covers. She rolled onto her side and caressed her tummy. "This feels so nice..."

"It sure does," he replied, sounding drowsy already.

She traced a finger around her bellybutton. "Tell me what it's like, sweetie."

His voice was calm and dreamy. "Um... It's kinda like being inside a giant water balloon. It's all rubbery and soft in here. Nice and warm, too. I thought it would be full of acid, but I don't feel anything like that."

"That's because I won't start digesting you until later. Not until we're both asleep."

"Oh, okay. And it won't hurt?"

"I promised it wouldn't," she said earnestly.

"That's right." Brandon turned over onto his other side and curled his tail around himself. This was the comfiest place he'd ever been in. It made the armchair by the fire seem sharp and pointy in comparison.

He heard her mutter something softly to him, but he couldn't make it out. "What was that?"

"I said I love you, my little prey," the mousewitch told him.

That felt like a ray of sunshine on Brandon's heart. It had been so long since he'd heard those words. "I love you too. I'm glad you ate me. Thank you for being so nice to me, Belinda. And I think you're very pretty."

She gave her tummy a loving pat. "Thank you, little one. I hope tonight that you have the most beautiful dreams."

Brandon smiled warmly. He yawned. "I hope you have good dreams, too. Goodbye, Belinda."

"No, not goodbye, Brandon," she said softly. "Just goodnight..."

And together, they drifted off to peaceful sleep...

* * * * *

Brandon woke up the next morning feeling more relaxed than he had in months. He stretched and yawned. He blinked his eyes. Bright happy sunlight was coming in through the window.

And suddenly, he was hit with the terrible realization that it must have been all a dream.

It must have been! There was no way he could fall asleep in a warm comfy tummy and then wake up in his own...

But it *wasn't* his own bed!

He spread his arms out. This bed was much wider than his, and the blankets felt different.

He was almost afraid to open his eyes. But when he did, he found himself in a room he'd never seen before. Yet he was certain he knew which house this was.

Brandon jumped out of bed and let out a cry of joy. Somehow, through some magic, he was still alive! And more than that, he felt wonderful. He felt stronger and healthier than he had just the day before.

He spotted an ornate floor-length revolving mirror and went to admire himself in it. There he was, wearing nothing but a smile. His fur was shiny and fluffy and his smile was as big as the blue sky outside. He thought he heard something rustling downstairs. He dashed out of the bedroom.

Brandon took the steps three at a time, sounding like someone was dropping a bowling ball down the stairs. He tore down the hallway. Standing in the kitchen was the pretty mousewitch, cooking up some breakfast with a sunny grin.

"Belinda!!"

"Brandon! You're up already!"

He ran to her, jumped up, and gave her a great big hug. She happily returned it, and gave him a kiss on the cheek as well.

"I can't believe it! I'm alive! What happened? Did you spit me out?"

"Not at all! I digested you and you were very filling and nutritious," she said, and gave her tummy a pat.

"But..."

"Oh, it's quite simple. See, that second potion I gave you was actually to keep you safe while I digested your body. You were asleep the whole time and didn't even notice. When I woke up this morning, I simply crafted a new body for you with magic. And here you are!"

"Wow! That's cool!" His tail swished joyfully to and fro behind him. "But why didn't you tell me I'd be okay? I thought I was going to die in there."

She gave him a caring smile. She ran her dainty fingers through his hair and scritched behind his ears. "I didn't tell you because that wasn't what you wanted to hear. Last night you were so sad, and I could see that all you wanted was to escape, from everything." Her smile turned more serious. "You wanted to die in my tummy, didn't you?"

He felt just a little ashamed. "Um, yeah. I guess I did."

She leaned closer to give him a kiss on his forehead. "Don't feel ashamed, little one. You should have seen yourself last night. I've seen a lot of sad little boys and girls before, and you were right up there with the most miserable of them. And I don't blame you at all for feeling that way, either. You can tell me why you were so sad, if you want to, but I already know it was for a good reason."

"It was," he affirmed quietly. Although he knew a lot of that sadness was already gone. Not all of it, not by a long shot. But having so many things now to be happy about at least put his sadness in the background for a while.

"Would you like to tell me later, after breakfast? I'm making pancakes. You can have as many as you like," she promised with a grin.

That swiftly brought a smile to his face. Not many young boys do not perk up at the thought of unlimited pancakes. "Oboy! Yum!"

"I'm sure they won't be half as tasty as you were, though," she said with a swish of her tail.

He giggled at that, and was sure she was telling the truth. He went over to her kitchen table and pulled over one of the chairs so he could sit and talk while she cooked. "So, all the other kids you ate, they all were okay the next day too, right?"

A tiny flicker of sadness passed by her face. "Well, nearly all. I won't lie to you now, and I hope I never will. There were two young ones who chose not to come back. You, I could tell, wanted an ending, but not a truly permanent one. Those two..." She sighed sorrowfully. "Without breaking any secrets, I can tell you that they both escaped from very bad situations, ones I would never have even considered sending them back to."

"So they chose to die?"

"Yes, but I could never go that far, not even for someone who wanted me to. So instead, I let them stay as guests. I still have their souls tucked away somewhere safe inside me. Maybe they'll chose to wake up some day, but for now they live within their dreams."

Brandon just thought about that for a bit, and imagined what it would be like. He thought that if he had nowhere else to go, staying in Belinda's heart might not be so bad at all.

The mousewitch flipped some of the pancakes, and smiled again. "But all the rest woke up the next morning just like you. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. In fact, several of them fully expected to. I told them they'd be safe beforehand."

"They weren't running away?" he guessed.

"Some were, but they weren't running as hard as you were, if you know what I mean."

He nodded.

"Others were just lost, or went exploring. They found their way here and I offered them a nice cozy place to spend the night." She patted her tummy and they both grinned.

"It sure was nice and cozy!" He couldn't resist asking; "Um, could you maybe eat me again sometime?"

"Of course! I'm so happy you asked!" She whirled away from the stove long enough to give him a little squeeze. "I actually have several young friends who visit occasionally, and who usually spend the night inside me. Has anyone else ever asked you if you've ever seen a snake swallow an egg?"

Hearing the question again made the memory he'd tried to remember the night before come back. "Hey, yeah! My best friend Shawn asked me that once."

"Shawn... Is he a little skunk; great big tail; likes to skateboard; very adventurous?"

"Yeah, he's... Oh wow! You ate him before?!" That was too cool!

She nodded. "Yep. Several times. He's delicious! I remember the first time he came here. He'd heard terrible tales about the evil witch of the forest and decided to find her and slay her like in the storybooks. Well, he found me all right, but there wasn't any slaying going on that day. He almost seemed disappointed that I was so friendly! We sat down together and had a nice talk. In fact, when I told him that I could eat him and he'd be just fine afterwards, he was surprisingly eager! And we both had a lot of fun getting him inside. When he left, I told him what I tell all my meals; if you ever want to know if someone else has visited me, just ask them the question about the snake and the egg. It's my little code phrase."

This was such a nifty turn of events, Brandon could hardly believe it. His best friend had been dinner for the pretty mouse as well! "So that's why he asked me that... Wow! And I remember he seemed kinda disappointed when I didn't know what he was talking about. I can't wait to tell him!"

"You're welcome to both visit sometime. My tummy has room for two; I've tried it many times before. I had a brother and two sisters growing up, and we'd eat each other all the time. We'd even compete to see how many of our friends we could fit inside at once! My brother always won since he was the biggest. I can't tell you how many times mom would call us for dinner and find one of us as round as a blimp with the others inside!"

Brandon burst out laughing at picturing that in his mind. "So can I come back whenever I want?"

"Of course! You're welcome anytime. And you don't even have to get eaten if you don't want to. We can just chat, or play games, or there's all sorts of other strange and interesting spells I can cast on you!" she wiggled her fingers in a play-creepy manner and he shivered deliciously, just imagining what those spells could be.

He blushed a little. "Could you turn me into a statue again?"

"Sure! 'Petrif-"

"Not now!!!" he shouted. "Just some other time. It felt kinda cool."

She chuckled. "Oh, don't worry. I was just teasing you. It wouldn't work now anyway. You got a tiny dose, and that only works once. Now, if I was able to trick you into eating some of it, then I'd be able to petrify you at any time, just by saying the incantation."

All of a sudden, Brandon got a great idea...

Brandon and the witch shared a delicious breakfast together. She had three different kinds of syrup, and Brandon tried them all. They chatted about all sorts of things. Belinda told him about several different spells she could try on him, and he thought they all sounded exciting.

After breakfast, they went outside and sat under the shade of a huge weeping willow. It took a little while to get up the courage to start, but eventually Brandon told her his whole story. Everything he'd wanted to say the night before, he did. And more. He went into great detail, reaching deeper into himself than he ever had. He found that just talking about it made him realize things he'd never even seen before. He even remembered a few things he'd forgotten until now. It was hard, yes. So very hard. It made his heart ache to let it all out, and he cried more than a few times. But it was easier than he'd expected; mostly because Belinda was such a good listener. By the middle of the afternoon, he'd said all he could think of to say, and he found himself leaning on the pretty mouse with her arms around him, holding him gently.

He knew he had to go home soon. As much as he just wanted to stay and have fun with his new magic friend forever, he knew that running away from a problem wasn't the right thing to do. Even with all the pain in their lives, he still loved his dad, and knew that somewhere inside, his dad still loved him. Plus, Brandon knew that as frail as his father was, he was liable to do anything if his son went missing. He had to go home and face his life. He had to be strong.

He really didn't want to have to walk all that way though. But the witch had another trick up her sleeve for him. She pointed out a tree a few yards from the house with a large hollow in it. She said there was another tree not far from town with a similar hollow. When any of her friends wanted to visit her or to go home, all they had to do was climb into the tree and say an incantation, and they would be whisked from one tree to the other in a flash. Brandon thought that was incredibly cool.

When it was time to go, Brandon gave Belinda the biggest hug he could. She gave him a kiss and told him he was always welcome, day or night. She said she was always there for him, and would do her very best to help him solve any problems he had. In fact, she had one more solution for him already...

* * * * *

The tree transport had felt very bizarre. It was kind of like being stretched all the way across the woods and then snapping back like a rubber band. It hadn't hurt though. He was sure he'd get used to it eventually.

It had brought him pretty close to where he needed to go. Close enough to walk to and from, but not so close that someone was likely to spot a little wolf magically appearing out of a tree.

Now here he was on his doorstep. Inside was his father, and Brandon had no idea what to expect. His father could be furious and start screaming at him. He could sweep him up in a hug. It wasn't even unlikely that he wouldn't care much at all.

But regardless of the uncertainty of the situation, Brandon knew he could handle it. He knew, because now he had a way to defend himself. Now he had a way to force his father to sit still and listen to his every word.

He would not abuse this power, he promised himself. He would only use it to do his best to try to get them to understand each other so that maybe they could try to get back to where they'd been before.

Brandon would offer to cook dinner tonight to make up for being gone so long.

He patted his pocket, and felt the little packet of powder there.

And he knew how to pronounce 'petrifica immoblios' forwards and backwards *perfectly*.

The End

for now...