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Nice is different than good
Jun. 25th, 2017 04:05 pmGreta hasn't been back to Cabeswater since she spoke to Jesse, and she's been avoiding the rest of the woods as well. There hadn't been much point to venturing out there, really -- and certainly no comfort to be had.
But she's heard some rumors of a strange cottage, and decided she needed to see it for herself. She doesn't think it'll prove to be anything from home. One heard stories there, as well, but she'd never actually seen such a thing, or spoken to anyone who claimed to. Such tales tended to filter into the Village thrice-removed, at least. Not so outlandish as to be unbelievable, but fantastic enough that you'd be forgiven for doubting some of the details.
And there are details ripe for doubting. She knows gingerbread, and she'd be the last person to suggest building an entire cottage out of it. A tiny one, perhaps, no bigger than a dollhouse. But she has a fair number of kitchen disasters under her belt, and she's yet to pull anything out of an oven that could function as well as a brick, even if it might pass for one at a glance (or, if she's being brutally honest, at a taste).
So she tromps into the forest -- the reassuringly unmagical one -- and she doesn't have to wander too far before she comes across it: a candy cottage, as advertised. She doesn't approach it, but her shoulders do slump a little. She should probably make sure Simon and Baz know about this. Goodness knows they don't need any of the children stumbling across it.
But she's heard some rumors of a strange cottage, and decided she needed to see it for herself. She doesn't think it'll prove to be anything from home. One heard stories there, as well, but she'd never actually seen such a thing, or spoken to anyone who claimed to. Such tales tended to filter into the Village thrice-removed, at least. Not so outlandish as to be unbelievable, but fantastic enough that you'd be forgiven for doubting some of the details.
And there are details ripe for doubting. She knows gingerbread, and she'd be the last person to suggest building an entire cottage out of it. A tiny one, perhaps, no bigger than a dollhouse. But she has a fair number of kitchen disasters under her belt, and she's yet to pull anything out of an oven that could function as well as a brick, even if it might pass for one at a glance (or, if she's being brutally honest, at a taste).
So she tromps into the forest -- the reassuringly unmagical one -- and she doesn't have to wander too far before she comes across it: a candy cottage, as advertised. She doesn't approach it, but her shoulders do slump a little. She should probably make sure Simon and Baz know about this. Goodness knows they don't need any of the children stumbling across it.
