In woods where the woodsmen told lies, maybe it was the wolves who told the truth.
Anne UrsuA sick-hued darkness overtook Hazel. There was ground, somewhere, and somewhere beyond that there was a palace, and somewhere beyond that was a witch, and somewhere beyond her was a boy who did not want her to come, and she would not come, could not come, because she could not defeat the winter. She was going to collapse here. She would fail.
Anne UrsuThe witch raised one careful eyebrow. “I? I want nothing,” she told Hazel. “Don’t you see? I want nothing.
Anne UrsuHe remembered that part like you’d remember a story someone told to you once, like you might nod in sympathy but it wasn’t like it happened to you.
Anne UrsuNow, Hazel was not stupid. She knew that just because you see a piece of cake and a sign that says EAT ME doesn’t mean you should actually do it. And just because two giant ravens point you in the direction of a path doesn’t mean you should take it. But it was the only path she had.
Anne UrsuYou can’t just kill a swan and wrap yourself in its skin, you know. It takes something from you. In her case it took the thing that she wanted most.
Anne UrsuShe came in thinking she would rescue him, like some sort of story, like a little kid pretending to be a brave knight. He needed saving; therefore, she would save him. This was the way it used to work. It used to always be so simple, it was just the two of them and they could make shacks into palaces. But things change.
Anne UrsuHe wanted to leave his mom and her unseeing eyes. He was the invisible boy looking for the place where no one could find him, where he did not have to feel invisible anymore.
Anne UrsuI believe that the world isn’t always what we can see,” he said. “I believe there are secrets in the woods. And I believe that goodness wins out.” He gave Hazel a serious look. “So, if someone’s changed overnight—by witch curse or poison apple or were-turtle—you have to show them what’s good. You show them love. That works a surprising amount of the time. And if that doesn’t save them, they’re not worth saving.
Anne UrsuShe understood. They were plastic flowers of words—but they looked nice on the surface.
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