Chapter Text
The Shadow Witch was poisonous to these castle walls.
Escaping her grasp was seen as taboo by the castle denizens, however.
Mentions of any attempt to escape were always talked about in a hushed whisper, laced with concern, as if it were a dangerous rumour one could only pray was not true.
There had never been a successful escapee. The Shadow Witch’s grasp was tight, too tight. The walls were too tall, windows and heights too high. How could a Cookie so small surpass them?
However, the questions inevitably arose: what would happen if someone did escape? Would they crumble on their way out? Would they, perhaps, somehow, survive and create their own life?
What was it?
It was a question Dozer had asked himself ever since the Shadow Witch gained control of the castle.
He had no incentive to answer this question himself. Dozer was not a curious Cookie - his incentive to escape was akin to a fish’s incentive to leave the ocean. His comfort resided in the castle. The possibility of seeing the Witch of Light again was high, surely, high enough for him to want to stay.
Why escape when the possibility of seeing her, his mother, again is right in front of him?
The possibility dwindled more and more, however, as the Shadow Witch made the castle a home. Cookies, who once wore smiles, wore nothing but frowns. Giggles and laughter were no longer sounds he was accustomed to anymore.
She was a breaking point for him. She truly made him and the castle’s fate feel doomed.
Hate was a strong word, but he knew he felt a similar way about her: so, on this day, he found himself running, running away from the castle until he could no longer feel its presence crawling down his back.
It was not worth it to stay. He would not see her again, his little heart shattered.
He ran, and ran, and ran.
He ran until he could no longer, eventually slowing down to a walk.
The wind whisked past his ears, the distant sun beating down on his face. A sweet, pungent smell of petrichor was apparent to him now that he had stopped running. A rain cloud reared its ugly head in the atmosphere nearby.
He coughed. These senses were overwhelming.
And then, eventually, he stopped altogether, tripping over and falling over a stone adjacent to a tree, banging his head. It intensified the slight headache he had gained from the brightness of the sun.
Instead of rising, and running some more, he looked back. He could no longer see the castle; he must've ran far enough, surely, he thought.
He crawled over to the tree and rested his back against the trunk.
A racing heartbeat reverberated in his ears as he tried his best to catch his breath. He shook, involuntarily on the cusp of hyperventilating.
Nausea overwhelmed his senses.
An anxious Cookie like him was almost always nauseated in some way - however, he knew not if this was from the sheer panic running through his jam, or from how fast and how suddenly he had run.
He's not a runner. Not in the slightest.
Leaning back and resting his head against the tree, attempting to calm himself down, he looked up, squinting. The sky was such a funny shade of blue, he thought. It was…different, more freeing, to experience it in person, to feel the wind dance around him, to feel the sun beat down on him, to feel the shade the tree so kindly offered, than it was to look at the outside through a faraway window.
He tried his best to catch his ragged breath. Tears formed in his eyes but he promptly blinked them away.
The clouds were…moving. They were travelling to the left of him, it seemed. For a moment, as he gasped for breath, he was fixated on them; he did not know clouds moved. He took a particular focus on them, for just a moment.
His body, finally understanding that it was safe and no longer running, forced the energy and adrenaline out of him. He was so, so tired, now that he realised it. It felt as if every one of his limbs was being pulled down by a ball and chain.
His gasps slowed down ever so slightly, and he let his eyes close. His heart was still racing, but now that it was no longer deafening, he could hear the faint chirping of birds nearby.
As well as this, the rustling of the tree leaves. The way the grass felt to sit on.
Is this what being outside in the fresh air was like?
As he kept his eyes closed and focused more on the sounds and sensations around him, and less on the slowly dissipating adrenaline, he felt the all too familiar feeling of drifting off to sleep. The nerves were still there, still present, but his exhaustion was more prevalent than it.
He was far away enough from the castle. Nothing was going to get him here.
He was okay.
A five minute rest was fine.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
“Wah—!”
Dozer awoke with a startled yelp, eyes wide, mouth agape.
He had heard the shuffling of feet across the grass he was sitting on. He promptly glanced around so as to find the source of it.
Another Cookie’s shadow came into view. He immediately looked up to the owner of the shadow, brown, beady eyes met with alluring red ones.
His eyes widened even more, and his heart, once again, began to race. He looked around, trying to find a way to run, but he halted in his tracks and, once again, stared at the Cookie when she began to speak with a mature voice.
“Now, now,” the mysterious Cookie cooed. Her voice rang in his ears like bells. “There's no need to panic. What is a young, feeble Cookie like you doing out here all alone? It's getting dark, you see.”
In response to her, he looked around at the sky. It was, indeed, getting dark.
“I—” He began. He looked past her, and then down at his lap, and began to bawl. “I— I don't know what to do-o-o!”
The strange Cookie’s gaze softened ever so slightly, and she sat down next to him as he cried.
He continued to ramble: “This new Witch is so, so scary…! She's not who I remember! I want to go back home but I can't, I miss my Mama, I miss the others, I miss G—”
“Oh, the Witch…” The strange cookie interrupted. She placed a hand on his shoulder, startling him out of crying more. “The terrible, terrible Witch…”
“Y-you've met her too…?”
“Oh, yes,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I have met many witches. Truly terrible, hm?”
“S-some of them…mhm…”
“And how soulless of this Witch to go after such a feeble Cookie as yourself,” she said, looking at him. “I am ever so glad you got away from her safely…”
“Y-yeah… it was hard! So hard! But…but now that I'm here, I don't know what to do…I can't go back there, even though I wanna…” he whimpered, tears beginning to spill once again. The strange Cookie noticed this, and began to dry some of them, rubbing her thumb over where they fell, lulling him into a subtle sense of security.
“You needn't worry about that. You're safe here, far away from the Witch…” She spoke with a certain earnest tone in her aged voice. It almost lulled him to sleep, once again, but he resisted. She continued: “You will be safe with me. I’m trying to get revenge.”
“R—” he cleared his throat before speaking again. “Revenge…?”
“Oh, yes.” She affirmed.
“How…?”
“The Witch has wronged you…such a poor little boy…and the Witch has wronged the companions you so dearly miss.”
“Yeah…” he whispered. “She threatened to eat me…! ” His voice teetered on a yell, tears falling down his face yet again.
What a weepy one, she thought. However, she softly got rid of those tears with her thumb once again.
“Oh…I'm so sorry.” She began, a hint of sorrow apparent in her voice. “The Witch has wronged me, too.”
“She…she has…?”
“Oh, yes. Many witches have. The awful, awful things they have put me and the ones I hold dear to me through…” She shook her head as she spoke, an almost sing-song tone sprinkled throughout.
“I'm…so sorry…” Dozer whispered.
“Oh, no, oh no, don't be. Revenge is the best medicine, as some Cookies say.” She said, smiling. “As do I.”
She stopped speaking for just a moment, and shifted so as to be directly in front of Dozer. She sat in front of him, on his level, staring directly into his brown eyes, prompting him to stare right back. Nerves immediately struck him once he did so, but he, for once, ignored them.
She placed a hand on his shoulder.
“What do you think about joining my efforts to overthrow the Witches…?” She proposed.
Immediately, Dozer’s eyes widened, and he pressed his back against the tree even more. “What…!? But— but— I don't know if I can, my M—”
“Hush,” she levelled her voice down to a whisper. “Think about it, boy. You could be free. Free from the Witch’s grasp, as would your friends. You will never, ever have to worry about being threatened by the Witches again. You will be safe under my wing as I do what I know is best. You can help me.”
Dozer thought for a moment.
More than anything, there was one Witch he needed in his life. He missed her more than anything, more than the amount of stars in the endless sky. All he longed for was her embrace again.
But…
There are many Witches , he thought. Many witches that had been wronging Cookies around them for Fortuna knows how long.
Fortuna knows what GingerBrave, or the other Cookies who accompanied him, had to endure before he met them, knowing that the Witch he had encountered prior was, more than likely, their creator.
The concept made him shiver.
And it immediately hardened the scarce, trembling look in his eyes.
He looked at the strange Cookie. “I don't want…I don't want the one in my old home to scare anybody else…”
“And I'm sure you don't want any other Witch to cause problems, now, do you?”
“No…”
She smiled softly. “Good…would you like to come with me?”
He, faintly, returned said smile. “Yeah, I just…—”
“What's your name, boy?” She asked, brow furrowed slightly.
Dozer, taken aback by the interruption, stayed silent for a moment. He was almost tempted to continue what he was going to say before, but he did not do so.
“I'm…GingerDozer.”
The moment he uttered his own name, he noticed the other Cookie’s expression harden. It was as if she was suddenly irritated, hatred shining through her eyes. It was as if she realised something. Something disturbing to her.
What happened?
This made him uncomfortable. He tensed up.
“You can…just…call me Dozer if that’ll be easier, um…” he answered, hushed down to a whisper, a nervous laugh involuntarily escaping him.
“Dozer,” she began, averting her gaze and standing up. “This was a wonderful decision you have made. It will be nice to have a like minded Cookie with me to aid me on my journey to freedom. And I, of course, want to keep you safe. Safe from the Witch in your old house.”
She began to help him up, taking his free hand as she did so.
He felt…strange. He felt a voice in his head yelling, pleading at him to not go with this strange Cookie. Perhaps it was the pomegranate-red tone of her entire body, or her slightly unsettling alluring voice…
But she had a view similar to his own. An uncomfortableness, a fear, almost, around Witches that were not his mother.
Maybe taking up her offer of safety and revenge was a good idea.
He took her hand, and looked away from her.
She looked away, in the opposite direction, and smirked.
This will be very, very interesting, she thought.
Dozer uttered something she could not decipher.
“Hm?” She turned to look at him. He was now looking up at her, beady eyes glistening with anxiety.
“I didn't catch your name…” He uttered.
“Oh,” she responded, taking a moment to think.
“My name is Dark Enchantress Cookie.”