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head and led me down the trail after his sister. I saw that the “him” he was referring to was a snake. His head rested threateningly on the inside of my wrist.
    Where did Chester go? Was he watching out there somewhere? What is happening? Confusion swept over me, and I began to silently panic. My heart and mind raced. How am I going to get away? What are they going to do with me?
    We soon turned down a path that led to what reminded me of a gingerbread house. It looked vastly different than Chester’s home. It had a rounded door with a small crescent window in the middle. The children opened the door to a charming cottage with doily-ridden furniture, woven rugs, and a cozy fire that cast a warm glow amongst the room.  
    The girl sat me gently on the couch. The boy closed the door behind us. I was surprised to see the three heavy-duty locks that graced the inside of the door. He pulled out a large skeleton key and locked each of them, then returned the key to his pocket, but I realized that neither of them had unlocked the door when we came in. The locks were to keep people in not out. The familiar butterfly that dwelled in my stomach scurried at the thought.
    The girl returned and tapped the snake, which instantly released its hold. It slithered to the boy and found its way back into his pocket. I sat there in silence with the gut feeling that something really bad was about to happen.  
    “Are you hungry?” she asked.
    I didn’t answer.
    “Oh my! Where are our manners?” she said while glancing back at the boy. He shrugged.
    “I’m Greta, and this is Hans. It’s nice to meet you.” She smiled and sat down next to me.
    The strangeness of being abducted and now being treated as their guest struck me as borderline psychotic, but playing nice had always worked for me. Besides, it wasn’t like I had any other options.  
    “I’m Rowena,” I said in almost a whisper, afraid to unbalance the already unstable atmosphere of our capturer/prisoner relationship.
    “Well, that’s a right jolly name. Isn’t it, Hans?”  
    He shrugged.  
    Boy of few words, huh?
      “Thank you.” The already small room was starting to feel more confining. They looked like children, but they spoke and carried themselves as adults. Chester had said that people here were ageless, I reasoned.
    “We have muffins baking in the kitchen. I’ll bring you one and some tea in a moment. Make yourself comfortable.” She scurried out of the room and left me with Hans. He stared at me like I was about to attack. His muscles flinched. He tried to give off a stern demeanor, but his ten-year-old features crippled his style.
    I stared at the fire watching every flicker while trying to avoid the wincing of Hans’ preadolescent muscles. The embers glowed and the flames danced among the brick fireplace encasing. Within moments, Greta returned with a muffin the size of the entire plate. She sat it in my lap and placed the tea on a doily coaster on the coffee table.
    I ate. That was something that my mother always harped on. My sister and I were to eat anything that was set before us when we were company at someone else’s home. “Good manners,” she’d say. Luckily for me, though, it was amazing. Best banana nut muffin I had ever tasted; although, that was admittedly few since I didn’t normally like banana nut. I nervously drank my tea and scarfed down the muffin within minutes. It was strange watching Greta and Hans sip their tea like grown-ups.
    “Your home is lovely,” I said after drinking the Chamomile tea.
    Hans chuckled, and Greta gave him a fierce glance. He straightened his back, cleared his throat, and resumed his previously dull face.
    “Thank you. It’s really a wonder that two small children can keep it up,” she said while looking around, as if mentally cataloging everything they had done in the past to the place.
    “But I thought that people here didn’t really age, so even though the two of you look young, you’re not