Otto Tattercoat and the Forest of Lost Things

by Matilda Woods

  The old woman edged inside. Before she closed the door, Nim noticed what she was wearing.

  “Wait. Please,” Nim called out. “We won’t hurt you. You won’t even notice we’re here.”

  “All right then,” the old woman said. “You’ve convinced me. Come inside. I’m just serving dinner.”

  “Are you mad?” Blink whispered as Nim walked towards the door. “It might be dangerous.”

  “Just trust me,” Nim whispered back.

  When Nim and Blink entered the cottage they found the table already set for three. It was like the old lady had been waiting for them.

  “Please, have a seat and eat with me,” the old woman said. She introduced herself as Islebill.

  Nim and Blink sat down at the table. Even though the bread was slightly stale and the soup was slightly cold, they were grateful for both. The food tingled in their mouths as they ate. Nim was eating the last bit of her soup when Islebill asked them for a favour.

  “Could you two dears help an old lady clear the table?”

  Grateful they didn’t have to sleep outside, Nim and Blink did as they were asked. But the requests didn’t end there. After clearing the table, Nim and Blink had to wash and dry the dishes and then wash the table itself. Just when they thought the chores were done, Islebill asked Nim for another favour.

  “Be a dear, little Nim, and sweep the floor. My back’s too old and crooked to clean it myself.”

  While Nim swept the floor, Islebill asked Blink to clean the windows. He scrubbed every window inside the cottage and was about to clean the outside when he realized he couldn’t. He pulled at the doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge. The front door was locked. Blink’s sense of dread grew. He wondered why Nim had been so eager for them to come inside. He hoped it was worth it. And he equally hoped she had a plan to ensure they would be able to leave.

  “I always keep it locked at night,” Islebill said when Blink continued to pull on the handle. “There are evil, wicked things out there in the woods. Wicked things you must keep out at all costs. You can wash the outside of the windows tomorrow.”

  By now Nim had swept the entire floor except for a small patch near Islebill’s feet. As she went to brush around them, Nim noticed her toes were covered in hairy warts. Nibbles, who had poked his head out of Nim’s pocket to inspect her work, squealed with fright.

  “Yum,” Islebill said when she saw Nibbles. She smacked her lips together. “I love rats, particularly their tails.” She made a strange slurping sound with her tongue. “Back in the golden years of these woods you’d see hundreds of them scampering up into the trees. When true winter fell they started to run into the houses to keep warm. I lived off rat stew for a good twenty years.”

  Nibbles shuddered and retreated into Nim’s pocket.

  “Well, you won’t be eating Nibbles,” Nim said. “He’s a special rat: not at all for eating.”

  “That’s a shame,” Islebill said. “You wouldn’t think it, but rats are awfully tasty. And I’m sure the special ones are even tastier. Now, I think that’s enough cleaning for tonight. You can help me with a few more chores tomorrow. I’ll be offering breakfast and tea in the morning and a small meal –” she glanced at Nim’s pocket “– in the midst of the day.”

  Nim and Blink spent the night sleeping on the floor in front of the fire. Islebill snored in the room beside them.

  “She snores worse than a man,” Blink whispered to Nim. “Worse than a man who snores really loudly.”

  It was true. The snores were so loud they almost drowned out the sound of the wolves howling in the woods.

  “I don’t think this was a good idea,” Blink said. “What if she keeps us locked in here for ever?”

  “We had no choice,” Nim replied.

  “Yes we did. We could have left, walked away, before we even came inside.”

  “No, we couldn’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Blink hissed.

  “Because of her coat.”

  “Huh?” Blink hadn’t expected that answer.

  “What colour is her coat?” Nim said.

  Blink searched his memory. “Red?”

  “Not just red. Red with a white fur trim. Islebill was wearing Otto’s mother’s coat. How did she get that? Maybe it’s not just Otto who needs our help. Maybe his mother does too.”

  23

  THE RED COAT

  “That’s a lovely coat,” Nim said to Islebill the following morning over breakfast. Despite their having watched Islebill prepare their porridge fresh, the goop which was served to them tasted over a week old.

  “It is,” Islebill replied as she shovelled more porridge into her mouth. “Though, if the woods weren’t so cold I wouldn’t need one,” she added grumpily.

  “Did you make it yourself?” Nim asked as she took a hesitant mouthful of the porridge. It made her mouth tingle even more than the night before.

  “It doesn’t matter how I got it, only that I have it,” Islebill snapped. “And it does a good job of keeping me warm. Now, up you get. You’ve got more chores to do.”

  At Islebill’s urging, Nim and Blink continued to clean the cottage. Islebill even made them climb on to the roof and scrub the tiles. When they were finished they returned inside.

  “Islebill?” Nim called. The old lady was nowhere in sight.

  “Maybe we should leave,” Blink whispered. “Get out of here while she isn’t looking.”

  “We can’t just leave,” Nim said. “Somehow she’s got Otto’s mother’s coat. She might still be here. Otto as well.”

  “If Otto’s mother was still here, she’d still be wearing her coat,” Blink said. “Something bad must have happened. If we stay it might happen to us too.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” Nim said.

  Nim entered Islebill’s bedroom. Blink reluctantly followed. There was no sign of the old lady. Her bed was made and two cupboards stood in the corner.

  “She must have gone into the woods,” Nim said. “Come on. Let’s search her room.”

  Nim looked under the bed. There was nothing there. She opened the first cupboard. It was crammed with clothes. She pulled the clothes out and laid them on the bed.

  “I don’t think those belong to Islebill,” Blink said. When Nim had finished laying the items out, eight outfits – coats, pants and shoes – lay before them. They were men’s clothes and looked very old.

  As Nim looked at the eight sets of clothes, a sick idea came to mind. “Do you think these clothes belonged to those woodcutters?” she asked. “The ones who disappeared?”

  Blink studied the clothes. They looked just the type to be worn by woodcutters: thick, fur-lined coats; chunky boots; and an extra piece of leather sewn in the pants to hold an axe. Judging by their condition, they could very well have been fifty years old.

  “What do you think happened to them?” Blink asked.

  But before Nim could answer, the second cupboard moved.

  Nim and Blink jumped with fright.

  “Do you think they’re in there?” Nim whispered.

  The cupboard door flew open. Islebill stepped out into the room. When she noticed the two children standing next to her, she, too, jumped with fright. Then, her eyes narrowed in on the clothes.

  “Put those away,” she said. “And get back to work.”

  “We’ve already finished the roof,” Nim replied. “We thought we’d clean your room.”

  “I don’t want you to clean my room. Put those clothes back in the cupboard, or I’ll lock the two of you in there instead.”

  Nim and Blink did as they were told and hid the clothes away. As Nim crammed them in, she glanced at the second cupboard and swore she saw a light inside. Islebill noticed her line of sight and quickly kicked the other cupboard closed.

  “That’s better,” Islebill said when the clothes had been put away. “Now, out you go and clean the walls. I’ve got work to do in here.”

  Nim and Blink went back outside. Instead of cleaning the wa
lls, they peered through the bedroom window. They were just in time to see the old lady climb back into the second cupboard.

  “What do you think she’s doing?” Blink asked. “You can’t do much inside a cupboard.”

  “It isn’t a cupboard,” Nim replied. “Before she closed the door I saw inside. There are steps in there. They must lead down to a cellar. I bet that’s where she’s keeping Otto’s mother. Maybe the woodcutters and Otto are in there too.”

  That night, when Islebill was snoring loudly in her bed, Nim and Blink sneaked into her room. They crossed the floor and opened the second cupboard.

  Nim climbed in first. A thin staircase led down into the earth. Nim used Blink’s lantern to light the way. Slowly, a room came into sight.

  “Are they in there?” Blink whispered as he climbed down behind her.

  “I don’t think so,” Nim said. “It looks empty.”

  A table stood in the centre of the room. Bundles of dried flowers and herbs covered the surface. Shelves lined every wall. The shelves were full of bottles.

  “What do you think is inside?” Blink asked.

  Nim approached the nearest shelf and looked at the bottle. It was full of a purple liquid. The label on the front said Owl.

  “What does that mean?” Blink asked when Nim read out the name.

  Nim shrugged and moved on to the next bottle.

  “Wolf,” she said, reading out the label. “And this one here” – she picked up a bottle containing a green liquid – “is called Mouse.”

  Most of the bottles were labelled with the names of animals. Some were labelled with other words like Honesty and Death. Nim was just picking up a small bottle which contained a clear liquid when she realized someone else was in the cellar.

  “Hello, dears,” Islebill said.

  Nim jumped and dropped the bottle. The glass smashed. Liquid spilled on to the dirt. It sizzled, and the ground beneath it turned black.

  “What are these things?” Blink asked Islebill, nodding towards the bottles.

  “They’re my potions. I can magic up ten a day.”

  “Magic?” Nim said. “Magic isn’t real.” But even as she said the words, Nim was starting to doubt them. While there wasn’t much that was magical about Hodeldorf, she was beginning to realize there were quite a few magical things surrounding it.

  “Yes it is,” Islebill said. “I’m a witch: the magical witch of the woods.”

  “Prove it,” Nim said.

  “I will,” Islebill replied. “Once you finish your chores, I’ll gobble the both of you up. I think I’ll make you a wolf,” she said to Blink, “for a hearty wolf stew. And you” – she nodded to Nim – “will be a chicken. You can’t beat a bowl of fresh chicken soup.”

  As she looked at all the potions stacked around her – potions that turned humans into animals – a horrible feeling fell upon Nim.

  “Is that what you did to Marta?” she said. Had Otto’s mother been eaten months ago?

  “Marta?” Islebill frowned. “Who’s that?”

  “The woman whose coat you stole.”

  “This old thing?” Islebill held out the skirt of her coat. “I didn’t steal this. I traded it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Every full moon the travelling salesman stops at my cottage. I give him some of my potions, and in return he gives a few little things to me.”

  “So, you didn’t eat Marta?”

  “Eat her?” Islebill said. “I’ve never even heard of her. Now, get out of my cellar and go to bed.”

  “Forget bed,” Nim said when Islebill had shut the door to her room. “We’re getting out of here.”

  Now that they were certain Otto and his mother weren’t in the yellow cottage, it was time for them to leave. Islebill was not a kind old lady. She wasn’t even a nasty old lady. She was a witch: a witch who wanted to magic them into animals and then gobble them up. She’d probably gobble up Nibbles as well when she was finished eating them. They grabbed their things and headed towards the front door.

  “It’s still locked,” Blink said when he tried the handle.

  They checked the windows. They were locked too.

  “We’ll have to break our way out,” Nim said. She grabbed the fire iron from the fireplace and slammed it against the window above the sink. Nothing happened.

  “Here. Give me a go.” Blink took the fire iron and drew it over his shoulder. Then, he swung it forward with all his might. Again, the window remained unbroken. It didn’t even have a scratch.

  “Why isn’t it working?” Nim asked.

  “Because it’s a magic window.”

  Nim and Blink spun around. Islebill stood in the doorway to her bedroom. She was wearing Marta’s coat.

  “Well, open it,” Nim said. “We want to leave.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Islebill remarked. “I haven’t had wolf stew in over fifty years, and it’s been over a decade since I had chicken soup. The cold might be making me weaker, but I’m still strong enough to eat the two of you.”

  Nim snatched the fire iron from Blink and ran towards Islebill. She raised it above her head. Forget hitting the window: she was going to hit the witch. But as she drew the iron down, it flew out of her grasp and into the open hand of Islebill.

  “That wasn’t very nice of you, dear,” Islebill said. “Not very nice at all.”

  Nim backed away from Islebill. She stopped when she stood beside Blink.

  “Please let us go,” Nim said.

  Islebill cackled. “Not a chance.”

  She raised the fire iron to her mouth and whispered something to it. Then, she threw it in the air.

  The fire iron twirled across the room. As it moved, the iron it was made from began to change. The iron grew thinner and longer until it resembled a long piece of grey string. Then, it threaded itself back together in the form of a cage. The cage fell down around Nim and Blink. It hit the ground with a heavy thud. They were trapped. A final piece of the iron broke off and flew back into Islebill’s hand. It was a key.

  24

  BACAWK!

  Nim and Blink pulled on the bars of the cage. Even though the bars were as thin as string, they were strong and heavy. They tried to lift the cage off the ground, but it wouldn’t move.

  Islebill laughed.

  “You won’t be getting out of there without this.” She held up the iron key before slipping it into her pocket.

  Certain the children couldn’t escape, Islebill went to fetch some things from her cellar. When she returned, she held two potions. One was labelled Wolf the other was labelled Chicken.

  “I’ll be having a very fine feast tomorrow,” Islebill said as she walked past their cage. She put the potions on the kitchen counter, next to the porridge she had left soaking overnight.

  “I’ll have sweet dreams now: sweet dreams of eating the two of you.” She smacked her lips together and went back to bed.

  “Are you regretting coming to this cottage now?” Blink whispered when the witch was snoring in her bed.

  “Of course I am,” Nim snapped. “But there’s no point whining about that. We have to get out of here.”

  The cage had trapped not only them, but also their bags. They searched through these now, trying to find something which would help them escape.

  Just then, Nibbles pulled on Nim’s sleeve. “Not now,” Nim whispered to Nibbles, as she searched through her things. “We don’t have much time. Islebill will be awake in a few hours and then she’ll eat us.”

  Nibbles kept pulling on Nim’s sleeve. Nim was about to tell him off again, when she realized something. While the bars of the cage were too close together for herself or Blink to slip through, they were easy for a rat to get past.

  “That’s what you were trying to tell me, wasn’t it?” Nim said to her furry friend.

  Nibbles nodded.

  “What are you talking about?” Blink whispered.

  “Nibbles can get through the cage. He can save us.�
��

  “How’s he going to do that? If he tries to steal the key and Islebill catches him, she’ll kill him and eat him as well.”

  Nim knew Blink was right. They would have to figure out a different plan. She looked around the room. When her eyes fell on the potions and the porridge sitting beside them, she had an idea. She didn’t even have to say it; Nibbles knew exactly what was on her mind. He gave a sharp nod, and set off for the kitchen.

  Nibbles scurried along the floor of the cottage and up on to the counter. Using his teeth, he pulled the stopper off the first potion. Then, he carefully poured it down the sink. With a lot of effort, he dragged the bottle over to one of the buckets of water Islebill kept beside the fire. He rinsed the bottle out before filling it with clean water. It was a hard task for Nibbles – far harder than snatching a few coins – and it took him almost half an hour to complete the job.

  “Great work, Nibbles,” Nim said. “Now do the same to the other one.”

  Nibbles removed the second stopper. Just before he poured the potion away, Blink had an idea.

  “Don’t pour it in there,” he said. “Pour it into the porridge.”

  Nibbles twitched his whiskers and looked at Nim. Nim nodded an OK. Nibbles tipped the potion into the bowl of porridge. Then, he rinsed the bottle out and filled it with water. He pushed the lid back into place, gave the porridge a quick stir and scurried back to their cage.

  “Yum. Yum. Eat up,” Islebill said to Blink the following morning as she held the bottle labelled Wolf beneath his nose. “Don’t be frightened. It’s very tasty.”

  Blink pretended like he was scared. He clamped his mouth shut and looked away.

  “Don’t make me force it down,” Islebill said.

  Blink slowly opened his mouth and the witch poured the liquid into his mouth.

  Islebill placed the empty bottle on the counter. She picked up the second one and held it out to Nim.

  “You too, dear. Drink away.”