Actions

Work Header

The Witch’s Shack

Summary:

Somehow, Robin found himself standing outside of the creepy old witch’s shack in the forest. And it was all Maria’s fault, of course.

Notes:

I didn’t know Moonacre Week was a thing, but the second I found out, guess what I did?
Well, I wrote a one-shot.

So here’s my little contribution to Moonacre Week. :)

Work Text:

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Oh, come on, Robin,” Maria scoffed, turning to look over her shoulder at him. The dappled autumn sunshine glowed on her hair, setting it ablaze in shades of copper and gold, much like the changing leaves overhead. “Don’t tell me you actually think all those stories are true?”

“What, and you don’t? After all the weird stuff we’ve seen?” He lingered at the edge of the small clearing, not wishing to set one foot closer to that decrepit old shack. 

 Rumors around town were that a witch had lived there — an evil one, not an animal-loving, tree-hugging, plant-collecting type like his sister — and even in death, she lingered and cursed anyone who ventured inside.

 “Magic pearls ring a bell?” He added, crossing his arms.

Even from this distance, he could see her roll her eyes. “You’re ridiculous. Witches aren’t real.”

 It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Have you met my sister?”

Turning to him completely, Maria put her hands on her hips. “Loveday is not a witch. She just knows a lot about plants, and animals.”

 Okay, so Maria had a point, Robin realized that. But that didn’t mean he was going into that creepy shack. No sir.

 “So, are you coming or what?” She demanded impatiently. Even in the tall grass, she was tapping her foot.

 He planted his own feet firmly. “No. I’m not.”

“Humph,” said Maria, “have it your way, coward. I’ll go in myself.”

“Fine.”

Fine.”

She marched off. He watched her cut a trail through the knee-high grass, and tried not to worry about it when she stepped up on the crooked porch and disappeared into the dark doorway.

 He tore a piece of grass out of the ground, picking at it. He placed a bit in his mouth, chewing absently. He watched the doorway. He blew out an agitated breath, sending the curls hanging over his forehead askew. He tore up another piece of grass. He threw the stalk back on the ground.

 “Don’t know what I’m worrying about her for anyway,” he muttered bitterly for no one to hear.

 Maria was annoying, and meddling, and always getting him in trouble with her schemes. More trouble than she was worth, really. He didn’t understand why he continued to put up with—

 “Aaaaaaaaahhhh!!” Maria screamed from inside the witch’s shack.

“Maria?!” Robin took off running, all thoughts of curses or hexes or old witch ghosts thrown aside in favor of one, singular thought: Maria. “Maria, I’m coming!”

 “Robin!” Her cry was shrill and frightened.

He tore through the doorway, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darkness. It was a small space, gray with dust and bare of any furniture. The windows were boarded up, and cobwebs hung in the corners. But he didn’t see Maria.

 “Where are you?!” He called, coughing a little on the cloud of dust he had kicked up.

“Up here!” Came her muffled reply.

He looked upwards, and hollered in surprise. Above his head was a foot. Not just any foot, mind you: it was Maria’s foot. Stuck through the ceiling above him.

 “I’ve gone through the floor!” She wailed.

 “I...I can see that.” It really was peculiar, a single foot sticking out of the ceiling like that. “How did you get up there?”

 “I used the ladder, you dolt!” She yelled, and he heard her sniffle loudly.

He glanced around again, and saw the ladder this time, almost completely camouflaged by cobwebs and dust. He scaled it, and found himself in a low, damp, and horribly, dismally cramped attic.

 “Whatever possessed you to come up here?” He demanded as he hurried over to her hunched little figure. He nearly had to bend double to make it across without smacking his head on the roof. Actually, it was surprisingly sound for such a decrepit building.

 She sniffed. “I...I was just ex-exploring.”

Her usually defiant eyes were filled with tears that spilled down her cheeks, and her lips trembled. So did the rest of her.

 “Are you much hurt?” He asked, crouching beside her.

“I...” She gulped, swiping at her eyes. “I believe I’m more frightened than hurt.”

 He nodded. That was understandable. He wasn’t too happy to be here, either, and he hadn’t even gone through the floor. Speaking of which, he probably needed to get them out of there before the whole thing collapsed beneath them.

 “Do...do you think it was the witch?” Maria trembled. “Do you think she made me go through the floor?”

 “I thought you didn’t believe in witches.” In the low light, he gingerly moved aside her skirt enough to get a look at her trapped leg. He had to figure out how to pull her free without getting splinters stuck in her skin.

“Oh. Right.” She sniffled again, and he gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

He straightened up as much as he could, his hatted head mere inches from the roof. Might as well just go ahead and get it over with. There weren’t a whole lot of different ways to go about it, anyway. “All right, Maria, I’m gonna pull you free. Ready?”

 She nodded, seeming a bit braver now that she was about to be freed. He grasped her under the armpits.

 “What are you doing?!” She shrieked.

“Freeing you! What do you think?” He just wanted to get this over with already. Half bent over with his hands stuck in a girl’s armpits was not a position he wanted to be in for long. Especially in a quite possibly haunted shack with an unreliable floor.

 “I didn’t think anything! I just — you just surprised me,” she stammered, her tears forgotten. At least they had that going for them.

 “Okay. Are you ready now?”

“Yes,” she replied impatiently.

He pulled her up, but she didn’t come free as easily as he would have thought. 

“God Maria,” he grunted through clenched teeth, “either you’re stuck in there real good, or you’re a right lump. And with the way you eat all those treats Marmaduke makes for you, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter.”

 “Robin!” Maria gasped, affronted. “Do be quiet!”

 He let out a sound of indignation. “Just use your other leg to push up when I pull, all right?”

 “All right!” She shifted slightly for better leverage. “Just don’t call me lump.”

“Okay.”

 With their combined efforts, Maria came free. It happened so suddenly that they both tumped over backwards, Maria landing squarely on top of Robin and sending the air from his lungs in a whoosh. He was too busy getting his breath back to give much thought to her close proximity.

 Then there was a very loud creak.

“Oh, God,” Robin muttered, before shoving Maria off. “Go, quick! The floor’s wanting to give out!”

 Maria scrambled onto her hands and knees, crawling over to the ladder, Robin not far behind her.

 They couldn’t leave that horrible attic fast enough, and scurried down the ladder with great speed, Maria practically sliding down. When they reached the ground floor, they both breathed a sigh of relief.

 “That was terrible Maria,” said Robin, giving her a dirty look. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Oh, save your ‘I told you so’s’,” snapped Maria, brushing off her skirts. “You only thought it was a bad idea because you believe in evil witches.”

 The walls around them groaned.

Robin sent a wary glance at the farthest, darkest corner. “Let’s just go, all right?”

Maria, surprisingly, didn’t argue. And that was enough to make anyone believe in the supernatural.