Bronach's Cabin
The home of Bronach, Moriath's younger sister.
Coffee sprayed as Gavin choked on a mouthful.
“I was kidding!” I stared at him, appalled. “Wolf boy, please tell me we’re not actually hiking toward a gingerbread cottage. I’m not that sick of cricket bars.” I considered the empty carrot cake wrapper. “Actually...”
“The Lichen Gate is guarded by an old and powerful fae named Bronach. You could call her a witch, yes. She uses the gate to steal away children from your world. Bronach bewitches kids and sells them to be raised in Faerie as...whatever their buyer wants. Don’t try and nibble on her house though. It’s not candy.”
From The Books:
“Right, too mossy.” I tapped my finger on my chin as Gavin took another sip of coffee. “Evil witch in a gingerbread cottage?”Coffee sprayed as Gavin choked on a mouthful.
“I was kidding!” I stared at him, appalled. “Wolf boy, please tell me we’re not actually hiking toward a gingerbread cottage. I’m not that sick of cricket bars.” I considered the empty carrot cake wrapper. “Actually...”
“The Lichen Gate is guarded by an old and powerful fae named Bronach. You could call her a witch, yes. She uses the gate to steal away children from your world. Bronach bewitches kids and sells them to be raised in Faerie as...whatever their buyer wants. Don’t try and nibble on her house though. It’s not candy.”
***
Later that afternoon, we peered out from behind trees dripping with strands of lichen at a charming little cabin in a clearing. When I was a kid, we called lichen witch’s hair. That had seemed hilarious, back when I thought witches only existed in Halloween movies. A low stone wall surrounded the cabin, and a tall stone gateway arched over the path leading to the front door. More lichen covered the arch.
***
I stood in a tidy kitchen, with herbs hanging from the ceiling and a wood stove topped with a bubbling pot in one corner. A smooth wooden table sat in the middle of the room, and shelves lined the walls.
***
I padded through the doorway leading away from the sound of conversation, toward the back of the cottage, and found myself in a room lined with cages. They were built of black, twisted iron, and each had a gold lock on their doors. Varying in size, nearly all sat empty, apart from a couple of sad-looking birds and a sleeping badger. One empty cage held a pink sock, and another a dirty stuffed llama. I shivered. This must be where the witch kept the children she stole from the human world.
***
I moved as quietly as I could, clutching the cloak around me. The painting hung above the mantle, a cruel-looking man with antlers sprouting from his brow. - The Wolf Gate