Sister and Brother

By Lisa E. Cote

There once lived twins, a sister and a brother. In the womb of

their mother, sister and brother had been joined at the chest,
sharing one strong heart. But just before she gave birth to
them, their mother called to each child using the voice of the
crow, and the two became separated, although their split hearts
still beat in unison whenever they were near each other.

One day when the twins were young, a strange fog appeared,
smothering their house and choking the children—both became very
ill. Soon after, their father, who had been hunting near a
cliff, stepped off the edge by mistake and plunged to his death.
Distraught with grief, their mother summoned the forest hag and
begged her to use her dark magic to bring her husband back.

“That I cannot do,” said the hag, “but if you see fit, I can
cure your children of their sickness.”

The fog still lay thick in the air, and even swirled in the dim
light of the cottage, stinging their mother’s swollen eyes and
making her throat raw. Meanwhile the children were wracked with
fits of coughing, struggling to breathe. Only the hag seemed
unaffected by the putrid mist. She leaned forward and touched
the woman’s hand, and with a honeyed voice crooned, “Just leave
them with me. I’ll take care of them.”

Sister, who overheard the hag and had the gift of hearing what
was not being said, cringed in her bed, looking worriedly at
Brother.

“Alright,” said their mother, who was starving for a kind word
or deed. “I don’t know what else to do, so I accept you offer.”
As the time arrived and their mother brought the twins to the
hag’s house to live, the strange fog, which had lifted slightly
for a time, again suffused the forest around the hag’s hut. “It
will be fine,” said Mother as she knocked on the door of the hut
three times and called once with the voice of the crow: “she
will take care of you.” Sister could hear underneath Mother’s
words that she knew the real fate awaiting her children, yet did
not want to know. Brother, who was more trusting by nature, just
wished to be well again, and to see his mother smile once more.
Brother hugged Mother tightly, but when the door of the hut
opened, felt her suddenly disappear, along with the fog, which
had sprouted ghostly arms and carried her away. Instead he was
clutching Sister, and Mother was nowhere to be seen. At that
moment the hag appeared in the doorway, and with the strength of
a full-grown man, the force of a hunter, she pried the two
apart, putting Brother in a cage in the corner of the hut, and
branding Sister’s left hand with a coal from the fire. “If you
try to leave this place or speak a word against me,” said the
hag as the coal seared Sister’s flesh, “you will catch fire like
a torch and burn away.” When Brother spoke up to defend Sister,
the hag turned an evil eye on him, and from then on he could
only open his mouth to eat, but not to speak. “You ugly,
misbehaving urchins,” shouted the hag, “I have cured your
coughing as promised. But because of your ungratefulness, now I
shall have to punish you.”

It was soon clear to Sister that the hag meant to cook Brother
and eat him. Each day she would order Sister to cook for and
feed Brother with meat, fish, and bread, while Sister herself
had only scraps to eat. Sister had to tend the chickens, fish in
the stream, and bake bread all day, while the hag nagged,
scolded, berated and ridiculed the girl, or practiced her other
nefarious black arts.

One day when the hag was sleeping, Sister was ushering the
chickens back into their coop and noticed that a large red hen
that she had not noticed before was taking up the rear. Before
she could think much of it or close the gate, the red hen
transformed into a red fox, snatched the nearest chicken,
breaking its neck, and darted out through the still-open gate.
Sister let out a gasp and chased the fox, who was running for
the stream. As if pulled by a magnet, the creature ran right
into a thick patch of brambles and quickly became ensnared.
Sister took pity on the animal, whose predicament reminded her
of her own and her brother’s. She tried untangling the fox, but
to no avail. She could tell the bramble patch was actually a
magic snare, placed there by the hag. Sister, forgetting the
hag’s warning, muttered to the trapped creature, “That woman is
a foul, wretched, soulless demon!” Immediately her left hand,
where it had been branded, glowed red hot and then caught on
fire. Since her hand was touching the brambles, they too caught
on fire, enveloping the fox, who, through his own magic,
remained immune the flames. Finally, the brambles disintegrated
into ash, freeing Fox. Sister, meanwhile, was still aflame. She
ran to the edge of the stream and plunged her hand in the water,
but it continued to burn.

“Quick, say something nice about the hag, and that will put out
the fire,” said Fox, chasing after sister. Sister looked stunned
as her sleeve caught fire. “Quick—say anything!” the Fox
ordered, “but it has to be honest.”

“Uh, she has some of her jagged, rotting teeth left,” said
Sister stumbling over the words, “and . . . her stench is weaker
in the mornings.”

“Excellent!” said Fox, and the fire was indeed magically

extinguished.

“Now to thank you for your help,” said the Fox, who retrieved
his prize and then broke a wing off the dead chicken. “Listen
closely: soon the hag will want to test your brother to see how
plump he has become. She’ll ask him to hold out his finger, and
then she’ll feel it to see if it’s skinny or fat. So for now,
you must take a slender chicken bone and give it to your brother
to hold out to the hag instead of his finger. That way she will
think he is still too spindly to eat. She hides it well, you
see, but the old biddy is nearly blind.”

“Good thinking!” said Sister, impressed with Fox’s cleverness.

“Why thank you,” Fox said grinning deviously, chicken feathers

stuck between his teeth, “Now let’s you and I make a bigger plan
to take care of that old hag once and for all.”

Sister mirrored Fox’s devious smile, and the two began to scheme
together.

A short time later, Brother dutifully stuck out the chicken bone
in place of his finger when the hag demanded to test it. “How
can you be getting so thin, you miserable boy? Don’t I feed you
all the best meat, fish and bread? And you refuse to eat! Well,
I warned you before about being ungrateful. Now you shall have
to be punished again. And you,” she barked at Sister, “run out
to the stream and fetch water for the oven. You’re going to make
me a stew.”

Unbeknownst to the hag, like her mother, Sister could speak with
the voice of the birds. And so the hag didn’t notice when Sister
opened the door of the hut, and called three times with the
voice of the wren. She then placed the bucket outside the door
and slammed it, pretending to leave the hut. Brother began
beating his chicken bone against his cage, distracting the hag,
who screamed at him. Meanwhile, Sister snuck into the far corner
in the shadows and hid there, silent. Fox, who had heard
Sister’s wren signal and assumed her likeness, swiftly entered
the hut with a bucket of water.

“Finally,” the hag sputtered angrily, “Now crawl into the oven
to see if it’s hot enough.”
Sister spoke up from the corner.

“Whatever you say,” she said, signaling to Fox, who crawled into
the flames of the oven, then out again. “It’s not nearly hot
enough yet,” said Sister.

“What do you mean?” said the hag, stunned. “I’ve been stoking it
all day.”

“See for yourself,” said Sister from the corner.

The hag squinted at Fox-sister. “What’s wrong with your voice,

it sounds like you’re bending it. And what’s that bristly thing
peeking from your skirt?”

Fox tucked his tail under his Sister-cloak disguise, and Brother
stomped in his cage, rocking it two and fro, which enraged the
hag.

“Quiet that infernal noise!” she ordered, covering her ugly,

oversized ears with her wizened, claw-like hands.

“Well, since I am such a stupid girl,” said Sister, “perhaps I

didn’t check it right. I couldn’t really fit all that well
inside the oven.”

“You idiot,” said the hag, “I’m three times as big as you, and I
can get inside easily. Look, this is what you need to do—any
fool can do it.”
As the hag demonstrated how to properly crawl into the oven,
sticking her head and shoulders in, Sister rushed out of the
corner and heaved her inside; just before she shut the oven
door, Fox-Sister reached inside and grabbed the key to Brother’s
cage from the hag’s apron, and quick as lightning, freed him.
The flaming hag, summoning once more the strength of a hunter,
wailed and cursed and beat herself on the oven door—but Brother
and Sister held it fast, and Fox transformed into a heavy chair
and propped himself up against it. Finally the hag let out a
long, piteous moan and a bilious vapor seeped out of the oven.
Once it cleared, Brother, who could speak again, let out a shout
of joy and the brand faded from Sister’s left hand.

“Stench indeed!” said Fox, resuming his natural shape. “Let’s

clean and air this hut, cook ourselves some chickens, and then I
will show you where the hag hid her treasure. The three of us
are going to do very well for ourselves, that’s certain.”

Sister and Brother then embraced each other, and their hearts,
although still separate, were magically restored as one strong
heart.