The forests and woods of Fredericton were vast and deep, and all corners were claimed to be home to the White Witch. As witches go, she was generally seen as a force for good, but there were cautionary tales of crossing her, not to mention surprising her. A potent magic wielded by an inconsistant spirit that might as soon turn you into a scarecrow or make you spit nickels as bless you. So while Francis and Danny could only guess where to search for her, they took no chances in catching her off guard.

"Hello, White Witch! I say, hello White Witch!" Francis called as they walked deeper into a wood chosen at random.

"I can't believe we're doing this," said Danny.

"You're not doing anything. Help me try to get her attention."

"What can I do? I'm not very bright. And I'm incredibly lazy," Danny said - loud enough for certain magical parties to hear. "I'm practically useless and not remotely interesting!"

"He's honest though!" Francis called out. "White Witch! We need to speak with you! It's about King Victor!"

But there was still no answer, and Francis' voice was getting hoarse.

"Look," Danny said, "we've been traipsing around out here for a couple of hours. She might not even be here, and if she is, she obviously doesn't want to talk to us. We're wasting time."

"You're just scared."

"You're being stubborn. Boy, it's a sad day when a reasonable, modestly clever man can't read the signs and admit a plan has failed."

"It isn't over till it's over."

"You remind me of my friend Gil back home. He was clueless too. Once time he was in line for the privy behind Old Beans Godfrey, and when it was Gil's turn, Old Beans said, 'I wouldn't go in there if I was you', but Gil went in anyway."

Francis stopped walking long enough to shake his head. Danny tilted his face while raising his eyebrows as though he'd proven his point effectively.

"And?" Francis demanded.

"And so," Danny shrugged.

"And then what happened?" Francis asked, his voice rising like a town crier.

"Gil regretted it immediately," Danny said solemnly.

"That's it? That story is your big, relevant life lesson?"

"Well, Darnley Horner was behind him and everyone knew what a prankster that guy was. He locked Gil in there for half an hour! The point is, being brave is one thing, but when you ignore the obvious, you've only got yourself to blame."

"How have we even made it this far?" Francis said, and began his calls for the witch of the woods once more.

Deeper into the trees they went, feeling like they were marching backward through time into the dark of morning and night before. They failed to notice as they went along that the grassy floor beneath them began to rise a little to meet each step, then a little more until they were steps; a staircase of grass and earth soon transitioning to floorboards of branches high up in the trees.

Just as Francis was beginning to think they might've gone too far into a dense thicket, a pair of large boughs arched where he hoped an exit might be, their dangling leaves like a set of beaded curtains. Francis held up his hand to halt Danny. Above, some other wooden hands moved to let in a beam of daylight which settled upon the leafy drapes like a spotlight on a stage. The leaves were then slowly drawn back to reveal what Francis mistook for a white fungus at first. It was instead a bowed figure of a woman who suddenly popped up, arms held in a wide Y, and shouted "Ta-DAAAA!!!"

"WHA?!"

Francis and Danny jumped back in surprise. It was only then that they realized for the second time in the same day they were up in a tree. "AAHHH!" they shouted again, losing their footing and finding it secured by moving foliage.

"Now don't tell me," the woman said, "you were just in the neighbourhood and you'd thought you'd stop by?" She was slender, with more frame than padding, and of average height. In everything else she was an extreme. Her skin was so ghostly pale it had an undertone of blue; her hair was as stark white and fluffy as the plumes of milkweed seeds. The black lashes over her small black eyes were so thick they might have been the undersides of mushrooms, and her mouth was so overly wide there would've been enough room for her to say two things at once.

"Are you the White Witch?" Francis asked.

"I think so," she said. "But one can never tell."

She tugged at a leaf near her, expanding the perfect dew drop at its tip to the size of a mirror. "Hello there," she said to her reflection.

"Hey yourself," the reflection said back, before the dew drop dripped away.

The witch turned back to the boys, blowing a white poof of her hair from her face with relief. "Oh good! I am myself. Sometimes I'm not quite. Well, it is so lovely seeing you boys again."

"What do you mean again?" Danny asked.

"You don't remember? Oh, of course, I was wearing my scarf. I always look different in my scarf."

With a whirl of her hand she produced an ugly brown kerchief. She placed it on her head and tied it under her chin and at once she was the old, bent woman who had rewarded the boys near Frederic's fortress.

"Aahh!" Danny shouted again.

"Do you like it? Tobias made it for me. He makes all my clothes, including this dress." She removed her headscarf and once again appeared as she had moments ago, in a sparkling gown with white corn silk-like fringes. "Tobias, say hi to the boys," she said, gesturing to nothingness off to her side.

Danny's eyes stretched to meet Francis'. Witches are bad enough when they're sane. He cleared his throat and decided to make nice with a tree.

"Hiya, Toby! Hmm? No. Just passing through. That's right."

"Who are you talking to?" the witch asked. "Tobias is down there."

The sunny spotlight moved to the very small knuckle of a very small tree branch where sat a teeny-tiny white worm.

"Tobias is a silk worm," the witch said. "He can do the most amazing things!"

As if to demonstrate, the small worm created the shadow puppet of another worm in the light. Francis and Danny weren't exactly impressed.

Suddenly the witch gasped and scrunched her nose, about to sneeze. Quickly, Tobias spit out a raw silk handkerchief, so delicate that with one carefully aimed worm breath it floated up to where the witch could snatch it to cover her nose in time.

"Thank you, pudding," she sniffed. "Don't know what I'd do without him. He's just a genius. He made that cloak I gave you, you know."

"Boy did that come in handy. I could sure use another," Danny said.

"And did you use the whistle?"

"Yeah! Just in time too."

"Good. And you, Francis? Do you still have that key?"

"I'm sure glad I had it, but I'm afraid I've lost it."

"Well, here. You'll need another one."

The witch twirled her wrist and held out her closed fist, waiting for Francis to give her his palm. When he did, she opened her fist to reveal an empty hand, but still mimed placing a small object in Francis', closing his fingers around it. "Hang on to this one," she said, with a playful tap on his cheek. "It's the key to the whole thing."

"So you do know what's going on?" Francis asked. "About Robert and the princesses and ambushing the king?"

"Of course I do. In fact, it all started..." she started to say, but stopped. She just gazed upwards, without finishing her story - not out loud, anyway. Her eyes darting side to side hinted at her following some invisible action or train of thought wherever her mind had wandered. It wandered longer than most would be comfortable with.

"Is this some kind of fit?" Danny whispered to Francis.

"Madam? Madam, what, uh, what are you looking at?" Francis tried gently.

"It's a flashback," the witch said. "Aren't you watching?"

"I don't see anything. What's a flashback?"

"You know. It shows you what happened previously."

"We know what happened."

"As do I," the witch said, returning her focus to the present. "The Hag of Hook's Quay has been filling me in."

"The who of where now?"

"She's a real blabbermouth." The witch waved her hands and various vines and branches bent and twisted to create a table and three chairs. She then produced a tea set from out of thin air and begged her guests make themselves comfortable while she served.

"Not like the Crone of Cayman," she continued. "Your secrets are safe with her because she turned herself into a rock."

The witch made the smallest thimble of tea for Tobias and served him on the nearest leaf.

"So, let's see. the Red Baroness of the Scarlet Moors told the Well Wisher of Whistler's Well, who told the Banshee of Balmoral, who told the White Witch, who, by the way, is an absolute kook!"

"I thought you were the White Witch?" asked Danny.

"Aren't I? If I'm not, I should be."

The witch looked down into her teacup and her reflection said, "Hello, you!"

"Phew! I am me," she said. "I'm certain of it. Anyone care for sugar?"

While branches shifted beneath him, Francis leaned closer and risked a slightly accusatory tone. "So if you know about Ivan and Robert's plot to use the princesses to overthrow Victor, why don't you do something about it?"

"That's what I have you two for."

"Hey. I thought you liked the King," said Danny.

"I simply adore him! However, I make it a point to have as little to do with regular human matters as possible. It weakens the magic and enlarges the pores."

"But if Robert and Ivan succeed in their scheme, we'll be back in the dark ages but good!"

"Now Francis," the witch said,

"Nothing helpful can come from worry and fear.

To rage and despair, makes things, well, unclear.

You have to have faith in what's good and what's right.

Then what you think takes a miracle, has an answer in sight.

You've got to have faith what should happen shall be.

After all, the universe wants har-mo-neeey."

She held the last syllable of the last word like an elongated note, so long Francis and Danny thought she might be having a fit again. She finally dropped it and blinked in their direction.

"Where was I?" she asked.

"I think you were about to sing us something," Danny said with a curled lip.

"What? Sing? ME? Oh forget it! I couldn't carry a tune to save someone's life!" A little laugh at herself ended with a shrug. "I still feel bad about that...but...!"

"So you will help us warn Victor and stop Robert and Ivan?" Francis asked.

"Aren't you here? And aren't I magic? Say that's right, I am!"

"Terrific. The first thing we have to do is break into that fortress."

"No, no. Sorry, that fortress is impenetrable. I made it so and I am just that good. Of course, there is one tiny loophole. And I do mean tiny."

"What is it?"

"You mean where is it? It's the only place that remains open, unless someone tells a lie."

"The hole in the wall!" Danny cheered.

"And if I make you small enough to fit through, you'd have no problem getting inside. Tobias, would you please hand me my apron?"

The little silk worm puffed up his cheeks and spit out a silk apron just the witch's size. She tied it on and with a number of quick hand gestures conjured up a mixing bowl, a spoon, a worn recipe book, and a pair of glasses which hung in the air in front of her face until she was ready to put them on. Seeing the reflection of her eyes in the lenses she asked them, "Well, what are you looking at?" The other eyes blinked innocently. "Give me some space, would you. I have work to do."

She arranged things neatly in front of her on the table and began turning pages in her recipe book. "Ah-ha! Here it is. My family's shrinking potion. Now concentrate, boys. Pay close attention. If the ingredients don't go into the bowl in the right order, the thing just doesn't work."

Francis and Danny nodded and took steps back to stand behind her. As she read from the recipe, the trees around her delivered the ingredients one at a time.

"Arbre elbow, moss of pete, truffle crust, a squinch of reed."

"What's a 'squinch'?" Danny asked.

"It's like a pinch but you squish it. Now shhh. Lady's bedstraw, ear-drop and slipper, aril of yew, forget-me-not, a tiny titch of myrtle mud – "

"What's a titch?"

"It's like a touch but thinner. And a little bit of – oh, here Tobias."

The witch handed the worm the hanky he'd spun for her so he could blow his nose in it and hand it back. Into the bowl it went, much to Francis and Danny's disgust.

"Need any warts for this thing?" Francis asked, pointing at Danny's neck.

Danny examined his skin with panicked hands for anything wart-like.

"Just one big worry-wart," Francis said with a smirk.

"You're proud of that joke aren't you? That's sad," said Danny.

"No wart required!" the witch said, waving a finger to shush them. "Fig-fir, juniper, sundial minute..." Here the trees leaned apart to allow only a sliver of sunshine through to touch the bowl. "Thank you," said the witch, sealing extra light in a jar and trying to find room for it on the overcrowded table. "...and now a spider web with something in it."

She spotted and plucked a spider web from a nearby branch. The spider wasn't home and there was only some indiscernible fluff stuck to its ropes. Danny gulped, repulsed.

"Wart's the matter?" asked Francis.

"No eye of newt? No salamander saliva?" Danny asked.

"Goodness no. I'm a vegetarian. Last but not least a sprinkle of alum. There! Now we just mix it up and add a little heat."

"Ooh can I do it? Let me do it?" Danny said, and in his excitement, elbowed his way to the bowl and knocked it off the table. It shrunk his chair.

"Gee, I'm sorry," he said. I'm not even going to tell you what Francis said.

"Gee, I'm sorry, but look at this way, at least Toby has some place to sit."

"The potion doesn't work forever, but at least we know it works," the witch said. "All right boys, let's do it again. Do you remember how it goes?"

"Not really," Francis admitted wearily, "but we trust you."

The witch gave a little jump of alarm. "Well I don't! My memory's awful! Look at these things all bunched up. They have to go in the exact order."

"You've got the recipe book right there," Danny said.

"It's a shrinking recipe. It shrinks!" Before their eyes the book shrank to half its size. "Quick! We have to put this together before it disappears entirely."

Each tried to commit the recipe to memory, each trying to arrange the ingredients from first to last, but as each was standing and reading from a different spot, the bowls and jars and webs were shuffled to suit no one's order perfectly before the book shrank to an unreadable size.

"Oh dear," the witch said, looking at the mess in front of her.

"What happens if we get it wrong?" Danny asked.

The witch just gave a guilty little laugh and began to call out ingredients as best as she could remember their order.

"Arbre elbow, moss of pete..."

"Crusty fluff!" Francis said.

"Crusty fluff? Must be the truffle."

"A squinch goes in next. I remember that," Danny said.

"Lady's slipper, myrtle..."

Francis shook his head. "No it was lady's earwax. And a haybed."

"No," Danny was adamant, "it was slippers under the bed and something gross that made us say 'Eww'."

"You mean lady's bedstraw , ear-drop slipper and yew." The witch, at least, seemed confident.

"That's what I said. Eww, as in silk worm snot."

"When did that go in?" Francis asked, concerned.

"Why's the better question."

"Then mud, then the wart..."

"No wart," Danny said, slapping Francis' pointing finger away.

"Then the fig, then the gin, excuse me, juniper, then,,,then,,,"

"Sunshine and disgusting spiderweb!"

"Just so! Now I'll mix and add a little flame under this baby to speed it up and we should be in business.

There was a little awkward silence while they waited.

"So," Francis said. "We met Rupret."

"Lovely isn't he? How is he? How's your horse?"

The blood drained from Danny's face and his jaw dropped. "Oh my gosh! Barley! I forgot all about him!"

"Shame on you," Francis tsked.

"I'm sure that Fred is keeping him comfy and well fed," the witch chuckled.

"Oh my gosh, BARLEY!"

When the brew seemed ready, the witch conjured up a rock and let a few drops of the potion fall to it. The rock burst into flame.

"Did it work?" Danny asked.

"Don't worry. That wasn't the Crone of Cayman," the witch said. "I don't think."

"What do we do now?" Francis asked.

"We'll try again. Have a little faith Francis."

"But...yeah, but..,"

As Francis' sentence trailed away, there came a shrill little sound, as if from far away, like someone blowing a grass kazoo. It was so odd that everyone heard  it, yet so small everyone ignored it.

"How long until the book's big enough to read again? Danny asked, and the noise followed again.

"Hard to say," said the witch. "But better keep trying in the meantime. Now, moss and myrtle..."

The shrill whistle blew again, this time loud enough to create goosepimples to climb and make teeth hurt. It was Tobias, trying to get everyone's attention. He held up a sheet of silk proudly. Embroidered on it was the shrinking potion recipe.

"Why Tobias! You clever thing! What on earth would I do without you?" The witch carefully picked up the recipe by the corner and held it up to read with motherly fuss. "We really should frame this and hang it up," she said.

She handed the recipe to a pair of branches which bent to frame it perfectly. They retracted to a plant wall where some of the little silk worms' drawings already hung. She directed them to place it next to some gold-painted noodle art and admired it with clasped hands before getting back to work.

Once again the witch combined ingredients, (and really ticked off that spider), and when the mixing and heating was done, she poured her potion into two separate vials and gave one to each man.

"Here we are! A double batch of extra potent shrinking brew. Remember, it doesn't last very long so don't take it too early. Certainly not until you're back at the fortress. Now you'd better get going. Good luck."

"Thank you, my lady," Francis said.

The witch looked behind her. "Oh did your lady help too?"

"Come on, Francis," said Danny. "Let's go if we're going."

"Have fun! The moss will show you the way!"'

The White Witch and Tobias waved the boys off with silk hankies, bidding farewell and fading into the trees as the strong arms of the forest helped them find footing on moss steps which shortly returned them to the grass and ground and the path back to the fortress.

*July 17, 2023
So normally I don't cast my stories, but since I sort of did in my prologue, you might find it interesting to know that the inspiration for the White Witch was Broadway and film star Carol Channing. She was a quirky, stylish, talent with a one-of-a-kind voice and personality. Look her up if you don't know her and prepare to be dazzled, lol. Btw, I'd love to hear if there was anyone else you pictured as the character ;D