During her lunch break, Grethel drove to the bank; she needed to withdraw a love spell.  She skidded her red Chevy Corsica into a parking space across from the First Magical Bank before a pegasus and its rider could land in it.

     She looked up at the winged horse, hoping it wouldn't leave any droppings on her or her car.  Air Rage had been a big item in the news lately.

     The pegasus and its rider flew away, looking for another place to land.

     Hopping out of the car, she climbed the concrete steps and pushed open the glass doors.  Being a payday, she saw that she would have to wait in line.  She had told her supervisor back at the weather factory that she might be late clocking back in.

     He told her not to worry.  The storm they were manufacturing wasn't due to hit Boone County for another three weeks.

     Grethel walked over to the small chest-high table to the right of the door and at the center of the bank, the one with the deposit and withdrawal slips.

     “Excuse me.”  She dodged around a tall, slender elf who headed for a line at one of the tellers.  Grethel looked over her shoulder at the elf's corn silk-colored hair.  It was so long she wondered if he ever tripped over it.

     She had heard that more and more elves had journeyed into Lebanon, but this was the first time she had seen one visiting her bank.

     She picked up the pen chained to the table and looked for the slip she needed.  At first, she didn't see it among the red deposit ones and the gray withdrawal ones; these were for cash transactions only.

     Just as she began to look for a bank employee, a piece of paper with glitter-lined borders appeared on the table in front of her.  The word 'MAGICAL WITHDRAWAL' floated above it.

     She reached for it, having to shake the pen twice before any ink came out.  She wrote Love Spell #10292 on the line labeled purpose.  Below that she wrote her account number.

     Though there were over thirty thousand spells to choose from, Grandma had said to use #10292.  She had used the spell to snag Grandpa.

     Grethel finished filling out the form and got in line.  She looked up and read the lights flashing above her head.  LOW RATES ON HOME EQUITY LOANS.  TIME:  12:16.  TEMP:  73. START A NEW CHECKING ACCOUNT TODAY.  Half of her lunch break was over.

     She had to wait another five minutes before she found her way to the front of the line.

     “May I help you?”

     Grethel laid the magical transaction slip on the counter in front of a gray-haired woman wearing thick glasses.  She grabbed one of the suckers that were there to pacify children while their parents banked.  She unwrapped the candy and looked around for a place to throw the wax paper.  Not finding any, she crammed the trash into her right pocket.

     A burst of sour apple exploded in her mouth, as she tasted the candy.  “Are you sure you want to do this?” asked the teller.

     Grethel popped the sucker out of her mouth.  “Do what?”

     “Use a spell.”  The teller sighed.  “I guess I'm old-fashioned.  I've always believed love should be magical without any--”

     “Of course, I want to use it.  Could you please hurry? I'm on my lunch break.”

     The woman looked at the slip and punched Grethel's account number into the computer.  “I see you've already deposited a pint of blood.  That's good since we'll need four drops of your blood for the spell.”

     Grethel hadn't wanted to deposit any of her blood.  It gave the financial institution too much power over her life, but she knew someday she might need a spell.  If most spells weren't drawn in blood, they all required it.

     “And we need to pluck out two of your eyelashes.”  She pulled on a handle directly underneath the cash drawer.  She took out some tiny tweezers and held them in front of Grethel.  To Grethel, they looked big enough to remove her whole eyeball. 

     The woman reached across the counter with the tweezers. “It'll be much easier for me if you'll keep your eyes open.”

     Grethel didn't listen.  “Ouch!”

     “Don't be such a baby.”  The teller slipped the eyelashes into a small plastic container.  “In just a minute, we'll have the printout giving you the rest of the spell.”  She punched a key on her computer.

     Less than a minute later, she set a piece of paper in front of Grethel. 

     “There's nothing on this,” said Grethel.

     “That's because we don't have your thumbprint on it.”  The teller pushed the inkpad over to Grethel.

     Grethel had seen people who didn't have accounts at the bank press their thumbs onto the backs of checks.  It never occurred to her that a system designed to eliminate check fraud would be used in magical transactions.

     “Just stick it in the lower right hand corner,” said the teller.

     Grethel did as the teller had said, and words began to appear on the page.  She didn't take the time to read them, folding the paper and putting it into the pocket of her jeans.  Her lunch was over.

     Since she was already going to be late getting back to work, she made a detour to where they would be making lightning bolts for the coming storm.  She wanted to watch Hansel, the man she planned to cast her newly purchased spell on.

     She looked through the Magiglass window at the where they were testing the lightning.  The window was there to protect any spectators from the occasional stray lightning bolt that escaped an employee's hands.

     She saw Hansel on the other side of the testing area, throwing his bolts into potted trees that had been wheeled into the room on wagons.  He would release the bolt with the flick of his wrist, flinging it into the center of a plant. The same person who had wheeled in the trees wrote something onto a clipboard after each throw, making sure the damage was at the appropriate level for the upcoming storm.  She thought the clipboard person was a woman, but Grethel couldn't be sure about the sex of any of the people in the room.  All of them wore huge bulky suits that protected them from the electricity; they all looked as if they should be walking across the landscape of some faraway planet instead of doing the mundane factory work of making lightning bolts.

     Grethel didn't know how she knew which one was Hansel. Maybe it was in the way he released the lightning bolt.

     Already late, she wandered back to her own department. Her supervisor smiled at her as she walked over to the machine that mixed the rain.  There wasn't much for her to do.  Rain was the easiest part of the storm to make; they needed to wait for the thunder, wind, and lightning departments to finish their products.  All Grethel had to do was make sure that the rain stayed mixed right, checking the pH factor and seeing that no foreign objects made their way into the water.

     After an uneventful day, Grethel drove home to her small efficiency apartment and took the spell out of her pocket, unfolding it on the small wooden table in the center of her kitchen.

     STEP ONE: Spread butter over your entire body at the stroke of midnight.  Do not substitute margarine.  Leave the butter     on for at least twenty-four hours.

     STEP TWO:

     Grethel didn't have to read more to know that First Magical Bank had reduced love to a recipe.  She understood why the bank teller had thought it best finding love the old-fashioned way.

     She didn't know if she could walk up to Hansel and ask him out without stuttering or acting stupid; she kept the spell in reserve in case the old-fashioned way didn't work.

     Besides, she didn't know how her supervisor or fellow employees would feel if she came to work smelling like butter for the whole day.  Probably wouldn't notice.  Or worse, somebody might have used the same spell or have known someone who had.  The person could let the whole plant know, and everybody would know how desperate she was to find a mate.

     The next morning she waited by the weather factory's entrance for Hansel to show up.  She hoped he wouldn't be with any of the other workers in his department.

     She watched him stroll up from the parking lot.  She had hoped to see what kind of vehicle he drove, but somehow she had missed it.  Maybe he was one of those who rode a bicycle to work.

     He stopped to talk to someone else headed in her direction.  She wasn't going to get to talk to him.  She turned around to enter the factory, giving one last glance over her shoulder.

     She saw that the other man with Hansel had returned to his car to retrieve something, and Hansel continued towards her.  She decided it was best if she waited until Hansel passed her.

     He made it to her without acquiring any other company to talk to.   “Um, Hansel?”

     He stopped and looked at her.  “Do I know you?”

     “Not really, but I was wondering if.…”  She took a deep breath.  Come on.  Get me off the hook.  Tell me you need to be inside.

     Hansel stood there, smiling down at her, and waited for her to finish.  “...you would like to go out Saturday night?”

     “No, sorry, can't.  Got plans Saturday.”

     She should have known she'd never have a chance with a hunk like Hansel.  “I'm sorry to have bothered you.”

     “It's not that I wouldn't like to go out with you, but I have to be in Tree City Saturday.”

     “I understand.”

     “But you're welcome to come along with me.  Bring some food and we'll have a picnic.”

     “What are we going to be doing in Tree City?”

     “We're going to be finding out why the elves are leaving. Don't you think there's too many of them coming into the city?”

     Had she gotten Hansel all wrong?  Was he one of those bigots who thought elves and men should remain separate?  But if this was true, why was he going to Tree City?  “I saw one at the bank yesterday.”

     “My point exactly.  Listen.  I grew up on the outskirts of Tree City, and my best friend is an elf.  You know how elves are, right?”

     “No, I don't.”

     “Too proud to ask for help.  Hell, all of Tree City could be on fire and they wouldn't call the Lebanon Fire Department.  I have to help my friend.”

     Oh, great.  He was a hero, not a bigot.  Grethel wasn't sure this was any better since heroes married beautiful women, leaving their spouses to go off and save the world. And the worst thing about heroes is that they think they're immortal as if they were a character in some fairy tale.  But the truth is heroes die as easily as anybody else.  "I would love to accompany you to Tree City on Saturday."  Grethel bowed, and the work buzzer sounded.

     Grethel saw a paper taped to the side of the rain machine.  She took a quick glance at the top and saw the word MEMO.  Seeing that it was an interplant memo that probably announced somebody's wedding or the birth of a child, she decided to wait to the end of her shift before reading it.

     It took forever for Saturday to arrive.  Grethel couldn't count the times she had reread Step One of Love Spell #10292. She couldn't get herself past the butter thing.

     Early Saturday morning, Grethel packed a cooler with ham and cheese sandwiches and a few sodas.  Hansel showed up in a brown Cavalier that had been bonded together.  Grethel had hoped that he would show up on a huge pegasus to carry her away, but this was not to be.  She knew the weather factory didn't pay him enough to afford a pegasus.

     He opened the door of his car for her, throwing the cooler into the back seat, and they drove out of Lebanon to the edge of Tree City.  “You better hold my hand.  I don't want you getting lost.”

     “What's going to stop you from getting lost?”  Grethel had heard the gossip about humans getting lost in the woods of Tree City.  There were rumors stating that people couldn't be found because they journeyed to other worlds.  Worlds where there weren't any woods, no Tree City, northeast of Lebanon.  Worlds without any magic.  As if anybody would believe that.

     “Don't worry.  I've been here before.”

     Holding hands, they stepped into a city made of elms, oaks, and maples; Hansel carried the picnic lunch.  They had only traveled a few yards before the canopy above blocked out most of the sunlight.  Grethel looked around for the elves, but didn't see any.  “Where are the elves?”

     “They're watching us,” said Hansel.  “Don't worry.  You'll get to meet my friend, Tanz, soon enough.”

     They traveled farther into the woods.  Grethel kept thinking she saw the tree houses of the elves in the upper branches of the trees, but she couldn't be sure.

     Hansel made enough twists and turns that Grethel found herself wishing that she had some way of marking their path. She thought about opening the cooler and taking the bread off one of the sandwiches.  She would use the crumbs to mark her way back to civilization, but that seemed silly.  The birds would eat the bread crumbs, leaving her just as lost as she already was.

     Hansel stopped in front of a huge oak.  “We're going to have to climb.”

     Grethel stepped closer to the tree.  “How?”

     “There are handholds carved into the bark.  They're kind of hard to see, but they're there.”

     Grethel's nose was an inch from the bark before she could see anything to grab onto.

     “I'll be right behind you,” said Hansel.

     She looked at him and smiled before climbing the tree. The bark of the tree was rough against her palms, and she couldn't stop herself from looking down. 

“Don't look down,” said Hansel.

     “That's easier said than done.”  Just as Grethel's arms began to tire from dragging her weight up the tree, she saw it: a magnificent home built into branches that didn't look big enough to support the weight of this wooden palace.  She inched her way to the door and looked at Hansel.

     “We're here.”  Hansel knocked on the door, three quick taps.

     The elf who answered the door had hair midnight black, flowing down his back.  “Hansel?  Who is this you've brought with you?”

     “This is Grethel.”

     “Hello, Grethel...Doesn't the human speak?” said Tanz.

     “Do you ever trip over your hair?” asked Grethel.

     Tanz laughed.  “Please, come in, my friends.  And no, I've never tripped over my hair.  Or anybody else's.”

     His home appeared bigger on the inside. He led them to a table.  A huge bowl of apples sat in its center.  “Have some fruit, if you'd like,” said Tanz.

     “Oh, no.”  Grethel had been taught to never take apples from strangers, knowing the fruit could be poisoned.

     Hansel held up the cooler.  “We were planning on having a picnic, and thought that you might like to join us.”

     “A picnic?  Since when do you do anything as simple as a picnic?  Why are you really here?”

     “Why are the elves entering Lebanon?”

     “They probably need to do some shopping,” said Tanz. “What does it matter to you?”

     “I've got a lot of friends here, and I don't want to see any of them hurt.  Tell me the truth; why are the elves leaving Tree City?”

     “There's a new tree here, my friend,” said Tanz.  “They say a witch lives there.”

     “Surely you don't believe in witches.”

     “I most surely do.”

     “Where can I find this witch?”

     “Where can we find this witch?” said Grethel.  “Don't forget about me.  I'm going with you.”

     “I think it best if I took you home,” said Hansel. “Whoever or whatever this witch is, she could be dangerous.”

     “I don't care if she is dangerous.  I came here to spend the day with you, and that's what I'm going to do.”  Grethel couldn't believe what she had just said.  It hadn't been that long ago she'd been frightened of stuttering if she talked to Hansel.

     “Since we don't know how to handle the witch, it's better if all of us go meet her,” said Tanz.  “Let's hope she hasn't moved.”

     “Wouldn't that be a good thing?” asked Hansel.

     “I don't mean move out of Tree City.  The house she lives in hops around on two large trunks.  There's no telling where it is from day to day.”

     “It's so big it needs two trees to support it?” said Hansel.

     “That's what I've been told.  I've never seen it myself.”

     “How are we going to find it?” asked Grethel.

     “If it's big enough to fit on two trees, it shouldn't be too hard to find,” said Hansel.

     “First we'll eat the picnic lunch you've brought,” said Tanz, “and we go out and ask.  Somebody will have seen the witch's house.”

     After lunch, the elf and the two humans climbed back down to the forest floor.  Tanz sang to the trees in slow, haunting melodies.  Grethel knew it was the elves above answering Tanz's queries about the witch, but it seemed as if the trees sang back to him.

     Tanz guided them through the forest until Grethel bumped into a giant chicken leg.  “Gross.”

     Hansel stared up into the sky.  “Those don't look like tree trunks to me, but I think we have found what we're looking for.”  Two chicken legs ended at the bottom of the small hut with a roof made of straw.  The door swung up and a rope ladder fell down for them.

     Everybody waited for somebody else to make the first move.  “Shall we?” said Tanz.

     Hansel grabbed the end of the ladder and began to climb. Tanz and Grethel followed.

     Like Tanz's house, the hut looked bigger on the inside. A shower curtain divided the dwelling into two sections.  A woman with her back turned had a knife out to cut a huge cake sitting on long table surrounded by six chairs.  A refrigerator and a large black oven leaned against the wall on the other side of the table.  The woman turned around and smiled, the knife dripping icing onto the floor.  “It's my birthday, and you're showed up in time to help me eat dessert.”  She wore a plain brown dress covered by a blue apron, a huge pocket sewed to the front of the apron.  Her teeth had jagged points and appeared to be cultivating a mold.

     “Sorry, I'm stuffed,” said Hansel.

     “Me, too,” echoed both Grethel and Tanz.

     “Yes, you soon will be,” said the witch.  “I mean that's too bad.  Is it okay if I eat in front of you?”

     “It's your birthday,” said Tanz.

     “Please, have a seat.”  The witch pointed to the chairs surrounding the table.  She waited for the others to sit down before taking a seat herself.

     Grethel couldn't see how the elves could be frightened by this polite old woman.  Oh, sure, she had ugly teeth, but that was no reason for the elves to want to get rid of her. Grethel thought about seeing if the witch would like a job at the weather factory; the factory had an excellent dental plan.

     That's when the witch spit out the bone.  “That's the problem with elves.  Too many bones.”

     “What did you say?” asked Grethel.

     “Elves.  They have too many bones.”

     “I think it's time for us to go.”  Tanz stood up and turned towards the door.

     “I don't think you're going anywhere.”  The smell issuing from her mouth forced everyone to hold their breath, and Tanz to fall back into his seat.  "You haven't even told me why you're here."

     “I wanted to find out why the elves are leaving Tree City,” said Hansel.  “Apparently you're the reason.  If you could let my friends go, I'd be willing to stay with you.”

     “You act like I was going to bake you into a cake, but you're all too skinny.”

     “Can you tell us why you're here?” asked Grethel.

     “I had to leave my home in the east.  They didn't care for me back there.”

     “As far as I'm concerned,” said Tanz, “you can go back to Noblesville, or wherever it is you came from.”

     “I came from much farther away than Noblesville.”

     “Where?  Ohio?  New York City?”

     “From even farther than that.  I had my hut hop all the way from Russia.  I'm Baba Yaga.  I know you've heard of me.”

     “Nope,” said Hansel.

     “Doesn't ring a bell,” said Tanz.

     “Baba who?” asked Grethel.

     “Baba Yaga.  Creator of nightmares.  Devourer of children.  Seeker of all that is evil.”

     “Wait a minute.  Did you say something about eating children?”

     “Not anymore,” said Baba Yaga.  “I'm afraid they tend to upset my delicate digestion.  I tend to eat elves now.  There are so many of them.”

     “We must be going,” said Tanz.

     Baba Yaga smiled.  “You can't go, sweetie.  You may be too skinny for a cake, but I can't let you tell your friends about me.”

     “Run!” said Hansel.  He stood between Baba Yaga and the door of the hut.

     Grethel and Tanz did as he commanded, scurrying down the rope ladder to safety.  “Come back!  You didn't even have any cake!” shouted Baba Yaga.

     Grethel looked up to see if Hansel was going to escape the witch.  It hadn't been a great first date, but it would suck if Hansel died.  She saw him climbing down the ladder, and Baba Yaga sawing through the rope at the top with her knife.  “Hurry,” said Grethel.

     Baba Yaga finished cutting the rope, and Hansel fell, but he was close enough to the ground that he wasn't hurt.  “Keep running,” he said.

     That's when it started raining.  Fierce beating sounded on the leaves above.  The chicken legs of Baba Yaga's hut moved, hopping their direction.  The canopy of Tree City didn't block any of the rain.  Grethel couldn't see where she was headed.  She made out the shape of a man and followed it, hoping it was Hansel.  We're going to get eaten.

     She caught up with the shape and found out it was Tanz. 

“Where's Hansel?”

     “I'm right here.”

     Grethel looked in the direction of Hansel's voice.  “How can there be a storm?  It’s not supposed to ready for three weeks.”

     “They said they might have to start it earlier, but I didn't think it would be this soon.”  Lightning struck nearby.  “Didn't you get the memo?”

     Grethel didn't want to admit that she had seen that memo and hadn't read it, that she had been too busy daydreaming about him.  “It never made it to me.”

     “It's too late to do anything about that,” said Tanz. “Let's get out of here.”

     Before anyone could move, a chicken foot nearly squished Tanz, leaving a large imprint in the mud.

     “We better get out of here,” said Grethel.

     “You two go,” said Tanz.  “I'll stay here and slow her down.”

     “I can't allow that,” said Hansel.

     “It's elves she wants to eat.”

     “I won't let her eat you,” said Hansel.  “Let's go.”  He turned from Tanz, but before he could start to run, Baba Yaga flew down on a broom in front of him.

     “Surely you didn't think my house was my only means of transportation.”

     Trapped between two large chicken legs and a witch on a broom, there was nowhere to run.  “I think you better climb back into the house,” said Baba Yaga.

     Grethel was first to grab the rope this time.  Before she entered the hut, she saw where Baba Yaga had tied the rope ladder back in place.

     Once everybody had scaled the ladder, Baba Yaga ordered them to return to their seats at the table.  She sat down and smiled.  “Are you sure you don't want any cake?  I baked it today.  It's nice and fresh.”

     “No thanks,” said Hansel.

     “Me either,” Grethel.

     Tanz didn't answer.

     Baba Yaga sliced off a square from the cake, putting it on a plate in front of him.  “It's good to see somebody here has enough etiquette to accept what their hostess offers.”

     Tanz pulled what looked to be a finger out of the cake.

     Baba Yaga reached out and took it from him.  “I'm so sorry.  I'm never able to get all the bones out.”

     Tanz's body made a dull thud when it hit the floor. Grethel rushed over to him.  “Is he dead?” asked Baba Yaga. “I sincerely hope not.  I was beginning to enjoy our conversation.”

     Grethel looked at the witch.  Thunder rocked the hut.  “I think he's fainted.”

     “Could you please place his body over there out of the

way?  Behind that curtain?”

     Grethel looked at the curtain that divided the witch's hut.  The shower curtain had yellow tulips printed on it. Grethel saw red spots that looked like bloodstains at the bottom edge.  She pulled the curtain aside.  Behind it was an iron cage.  The door to the cage was open. 

“Go on.  Drag him inside,” said Baba Yaga.

     Grethel grabbed Tanz from under the armpits and pulled him towards the cage.  She didn't want to do it.  What would Hansel think of her if she helped a witch eat his best friend?  She looked at Hansel, but all he did was stare back.

     Grethel managed to get Tanz's body into the cage.  “Now if you and your boyfriend will join the elf, I'll start the oven,” said Baba Yaga.

     Hansel got to his feet and walked towards the witch.  “I won't allow you to hurt my friends.” 

Baba Yaga took her knife and sliced the tip of her finger.  A lightning bolt flew from the cut and knocked Hansel off his feet.  Lightning and thunder from the storm outside struck at the same time.

     “Did you think me to be without power?  Don't you know

I'm a witch?  Get in the cage.”

     Grethel did as Baba Yaga commanded, and Hansel reluctantly followed.

     Baba Yaga shut the door.  Taking a large key from out of the pocket of her apron, she locked up her three guests.  She went to her refrigerator and her cupboards, and laid out eggs, milk, flour, and a large pan on her table.

     “What are we going to do?” asked Grethel.

     “If she intends to bake us, she'll have to unlock the cage,” said Hansel.  “That's when we fight our way out.  I hope Tanz is awake by then.  We'll need his help.”

     It didn't sound like a good plan to Grethel.  She had seen the witch's lightning bolt.  She didn't want all of them to get fried.

     Grasping the bars of the cage, she watched Baba Yaga work.  “Would you like some help?  I'm very good at baking things.”

     “Oh, no, my precious, you want me to let you out of the cage, and I can't allow that.”

     “Don't you want to know how to keep the bones out of your batter?”

     “You can teach me that?”

     “I can't believe you're offering to help her,” said Hansel.  “She plans to eat us.”

     That's it, Hansel.  Play along with me.  At least, she hoped he was playing along with her.  She wasn't sure Love Spell #10292 would work if Hansel thought she would help a witch cook him.

     “You think you can help me get rid of the bones?”

     “I know I can,” said Grethel.

     “I hate it when a bone gets caught in my throat,” said Baba Yaga more to herself than to Grethel.  “I'll let you out to help, but you better not cross me, young lady.  I'm not powerless, you know?”

     “I know.”

     Baba Yaga moved over to the cage and pointed at Hansel. “You go over to the corner.  I'm only willing to release the girl.”

     When Hansel hesitated, Grethel was sure that he was going to ruin her escape plan, not that she had a plan.  She was making everything up as she went along.

     Hansel backed into the corner, never taking his eyes off the witch.  Baba Yaga unlocked the door, and Grethel stepped out and headed for the table with the witch following her.

     “I need to check the oven and make sure it's hot enough. If that's okay with you.”

     “How is that suppose to keep elf bones out of my cake?”

     “Well, the oven has to be very, very hot.  Let me check before I explain how it works.”  Grethel made her way over to the oven.  She opened it up and looked inside.  “This definitely isn't hot enough.  Did you turn it on?  Is it working okay?”

     “Of course, it's working okay.”  Baba Yaga marched over to Grethel and looked at the oven controls.  “I don't see anything wrong.”

     “Maybe it's inside the oven itself,” said Grethel.

     Baba Yaga bent down and looked into the oven.  Grethel had planned to give Yaga a kick to the behind, shoving her into the oven.  That's when the lightning hit the roof.

     Baba Yaga backed away from the oven.  Flaming pieces of the roof fell around her and Grethel.  Seeing that her plan didn't work, Grethel rushed the witch, reaching her hand into the pocket of the witch's apron and searched for the key to unlock the cage.  Having found the key, she turned and ran.  “Come back with that!” screamed Baba Yaga.

     Grethel ignored the witch, sure that a lightning bolt or some other magic would slay her before she reached the cage.  She looked behind her and saw a large piece of the roof land on Baba Yaga's head.  The witch dropped, and the floor began to burn.

     Grethel unlocked the cage and looked over at the unconscious Tanz.  “Do you think you can carry him out of here?” she asked Hansel.

     Hansel walked over to Tanz.  “I can try.”

     Grethel knew that trying wouldn't be good enough; they had to wake Tanz up.  She looked around and saw the carton of milk on the table.  As she grabbed the milk and returned to the cage, she heard Baba Yaga moaning.

     She strolled up to Tanz and poured half of the milk in his face, stopping when the elf began to gag.  Hansel reached out his hand and pulled his friend to his feet.  “We have to get out of here.”

     “You're not going anywhere.”  Baba Yaga blocked their way.  She began to raise her hands and point them at Hansel.

     Grethel wasn't going to allow Hansel to be hurt.  She did the only thing she could thing of; she threw the rest of the milk into the witch's face, and the witch laughed.

     What was Grethel thinking?  How could she possibly think some cold liquid would stop the witch?  But it gave Hansel a chance to attack the witch.  He got to use his original plan, knocking Baba Yaga off her feet.  Grethel and Tanz followed him out of the cell.  All three ran to the door of the hut, running through the flames.  Grethel made it down the ladder first with Tanz following, then Hansel.

     Baba Yaga made it to the door of the hut and shouted at them, but she didn't follow.  The hut burst into flames; the witch disappeared.  Somehow the fire demolished the magic that maneuvered the chicken legs.  The hut toppled over.

     “You two have destroyed the witch and saved my people,” said Tanz.

     “I don't think we've succeeded yet.”  Hansel pointed up into the sky.  Baba Yaga flew above them on her broom.

     A lightning bolt from her fingers missed Hansel.  The fire from her hut spread into Tree City.

     Baba Yaga flew down beside her hut.  “Did I tell you I

raised my hut from when it was a baby?”  She waved a vial of blood in the air, and the rain above her hut increased, extinguishing the flames.  She had saved Tree City from the fire, but who was going to save Tree City from her?

     She turned and faced Hansel, Tanz, and Grethel.  She dripped her cut finger on the chicken legs, and they sprang to life, standing up.  “I think killing you would be a good idea.  Yes, definitely a good idea.”

     “Don't you want to eat us?” asked Grethel.

     “Don't encourage her,” said Hansel.

     “Yes, eating you will make my victory so much sweeter.”

     “You better look behind you unless you plan to eat us raw,” said Grethel.

     “Don't try anything stupid, like running away or attacking me.”  Baba Yaga turned and looked at the remains of her hut.  The oven lie a few feet from her, the door off its hinges, caved in on one side, damaged beyond repair.

     Baba Yaga turned back around; nobody had tried running away.  “I've never tried eating raw elf.”  Tanz jumped behind Hansel.  “And I'm not going to start.”  Using her blood, Baba Yaga drew symbols on the oven.  It floated into the air and attached itself to one of the chicken legs.  “I'll be back to eat you some other day,” said Baba Yaga as she headed out of Tree City, two giant chicken legs hopping in front of her.

     “I thought she would never leave.”  Tanz looked at the

two humans who were looking at each other.

     “I can't believe you made her think you were helping her cook me and Tanz,” said Hansel.

     “I can't believe you attacked her when she stood--” Grethel didn't finish her sentence; Hansel was kissing her.

     She never found a use for Love Spell #10292.  As for Baba Yaga returning to Tree City…well, that's a different story.