“I have it! I have it!” The girl witch bounced. “I have the answer!”

  “Then tell us!” said the prince. Siouxsie whipped off her hat and pitched her head far enough forward that her little orange gel, Pumpkin, plopped into her hand.

  “We’ll use gelcraft!” She explained with a wide grin.

  “Our gels? Asked Morell with come confusion. “How would that work?”

  “It should take a bit of tinkering but I believe I can make it work! Morell, go to your pack and retrieve as many of your empty mushroom sample jars as you can manage. After you have them, run some water through them so that they’re very clean. Go, hurry!” Morell didn’t hesitate and bolted from the room. “The rest of you,” she said to the group. “Search your packs and give me your gels. I’ll need as many as we can get. Quickly, quickly!” Everyone followed her orders and came back with the supplies she needed. Once all the colorless gels, Morell’s purple one, Jam, and Siouxsie’s Pumpkin were corralled, they watched the witch begin diligently kneading and shaping Pumpkin into the approximate shape of a breast. She borrowed a sewing needle from Morell and pushed it all the way through the gel. Pumpkin didn’t seem to be showing any discomfort, and she’d managed to move it around enough to make a small hole all the way through its head while holding a type of cone form, it had become the perfect shape needed. Once she was ready, Siouxsie held the gel in one hand and played a few notes on her witchle with the other. The gel remained in its pressed form. She then held the rigid gel for everyone to see; it had become as an artificial breast, nipple and all.

  “That’s remarkable!” exclaimed Hoxley. “How do you do that?”

  “It’s something inherent in the gel.” She replied. “Pour some milk into the sample bottle and hand it to me.” Once the bottle was half filled, Hoxley handed it over, to which Siouxsie capped the jar with the gel, squeezed the base around the edges and proceeded to turn it upside down where only a tiny bit of the milk wept through the needle sized hole.

  “You’ve done it!” The prince said in amazement. “You’ve fashioned a breast for the infants to feed upon!”

  “Quickly, quickly. More jars with milk!” Said Siouxsie as she set the bottle down and grabbed another gel. She held it against the rigid gel and played the tune once more. The second gel immediately began to tremble before making a tiny “pop” sound and duplicating the first! Time and again she repeated the process until they had a table full of milk bottles with functional nipples. Once finished, the doppelgangers of the shadow girl divided into pairs, one fetching a baby while the other grabbed a bottle. Wanting to help, the prince picked up a bottle and found a copy of the shadow girl already holding a babe within its arms. Everyone watched as the pair gave the first child the milk. The infant wasting no time in latching onto it and suckling greedily. Around the room, the process repeated. Babes sucked their fill. Bottles were emptied and refilled and passed onto the next hungry mouth. No child seemed to reject the fake breasts.

  “They’re taking it.” Hoxley sighed, parking her hind legs on the floor with relief. “They’re going to survive. Well, done, Siouxsie. Well done, everyone. I had my doubts, but I’m glad I was wrong. These are miracles and blessings if I ever saw one.” The party watched as the children were fed one after another in quick succession. Before long, the job was finished, and all the owners of full tummies settled in for a post meal nap. “Look lively, everyone.” Hoxley said, getting to her hooves. “This is just the start of our work. The rest of the people still need food as much as these babes. We’ll divide into pairs where we can, but the witches will need to be our eyes on keeping everyone in line. They’ll be our eyes in the sky and keep us from double feeding or missing anyone. If we fail, the consequences may be…fatal. Enough people have perished from this mysterious affliction. I will give every effort to not let anymore have that fate befall them.”

  “Well said.” Echoed a voice from behind. Everyone turned to see Ignatius enter “We will all do what we can. And if our shadowy friend can manage things here in the palace, we can’t wait a moment longer to begin. Everyone, follow me.” The companions and the prisoners met in the kitchen and loaded themselves up with as many containers as they could carry. “We’ll start on the outermost point of the kingdom and work our way back to the palace.” Ignatius said as he divided up the kingdom into equal parts and gave assignments. “That way, as we tire, we’ll have to travel less distance to return to the kitchen and refill our stores.” Just as he finished, Robert came soaring in on his broom and dropped to his feet. His hands and sleeves were dusted with dirt.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “How goes it?” asked Morell.

  “The innocent have been buried.” Robert said coldly as he walked past him to find water. He turned up a cup of wine by accident and spit it out before dumping the rest. Upon finding water, he turned it up and drank. During no part of this did anyone see anything of his face save for the shadow beneath his wide brimmed hat. “It’s not just magic that killed the babes. They might have survived if their parents were not struck dumb by magic and dropped them or fallen on top of them. Someone owes me for fifteen graves. When I find them, I’m going to put their insides on their outside as payment, and when I do it. I’m going to do it slowly, so it hurts more. Give me a container with broth so that we can save more of the living.”

  “We’ll have to move quickly.” Said Ignatius as he handed his brother a pot. “Dusk quickly approaches and night will not be far behind. Make haste, everyone. It’s going to be a long night for all of us.”

  And through the last of the sun’s radiance and into the darkness of the evening the companions canvassed the kingdom as best as they could manage. One would cradle a townsperson upright while the other gently fed them a ladle of Morell’s concoction. There wasn’t much behind the eyes of the victims, but basic movements like the desire to feed fortunately remained. None spoke or moved, but they sipped and swallowed, usually coughing some before returning to their languished state. For hours upon hours, it was this way through the night. The companions occasionally found each other, alerted by a torch or noise.

  Hoxley managed to move a sizeable pot to a cart and hitched herself to it to deliver resupplies to the others. The cart was heavy and difficult to pull, but her determination and care kept from spilling. As she tugged and pulled, she thought herself mad for finding herself in such a bizarre situation. Her previous life of delivering messages paled in comparison to whatever it had become as of late. When the cart’s wheel became stuck in a rut she yanked and strained with all her might to get it free. Try as she might on her own, the weight was too much to manage.

  “Come along, you miserable cart.” She grunted as she cursed it. “I have work to do.” She pulled and yanked twice, three times. But it was no use. She’d almost resigned herself to having to leave it in place when an almost undetectable flutter found her ear somewhere overhead in the night air. Hearing it, she produced her witchle and gave it a few puffs. Siouxsie instantly appeared out of the blackness to hover overhead.

  “You summoned?” she asked.

  “The wheel of the cart is stuck in a rut.” Hoxley pointed. “See if you can help me get it out.” Siouxsie put down her broom and planted her shoulder against the back of the cart. The pair strained together but the rut between two stones in the path seemed to be the perfect depth to keep them from pulling it free. After a few more attempts to rock it back and forth seemed futile to continue as more shifting would only spill the pot of broth.

  “You wedged it in there good and tight.” The witch huffed. “I think we’re going to need another three strong backs to work it loose.”

  “Perhaps I can assist you ladies.” Said a low deep voice form the darkness that almost made Siouxsie jump from her skin.

  “Who’s there?” asked the witch, her hand reaching for the dagger in her waist belt

  “Just someone who wants to help.” A hulking form of said as its mass moved close to them. Hoxley squinted and strained to discover the trudging mass of Atticus stepping out of the shadows. The man cradled a pot as big as the witch with one arm. Siouxsie unconsciously backed away from the man who looked large enough to run her over like a horse drawn carriage. Atticus stepped into Siouxsie’s place. Without disturbing the pot, he bent at the knees and lowered his right arm straight down so that the back of his right hand was against his thigh as he gripped the tail of the wooden cart. With a grunt and a shrug, the cart’s wheel was not only high enough to get out of the rut but another two hands higher! It landed with a “clack” and Hoxley almost lost her balance before his sizable palm held it still. “That should be enough I think.” He rasped.