“I will teach you this,” she said, flicking a glance and her words over one shoulder. “I will teach you which plants to consume and which ones to avoid. I’ll show you when to cut, how to cut, and when neither of those things matters.”
The witch inched her way around the clearing, always darting a look toward its center, toward Rapunzel. The child seemed content to chew her bread, clap her hands, and track the witch’s progress. Not for the first time, the witch’s thoughts drifted to Rapunzel’s mother. How could she abandon such a child? So compliant. So calm.
“We will see how long that lasts, won’t we?” the witch said with a wink.
Perhaps it was that steely gaze, or the miracle of the hair that now hid the scars on Rapunzel’s scalp, but the witch swore the child understood more than she
