A/N: This story was written for the Creative Dreams Writing Club. The prompt was to rewrite the beginning of a well-known fairytale. I chose Hansel and Gretel. Enjoy!

I hadn't eaten in two days.

Nothing substantial anyway. Only scraps and half-rotten fruit I'd found on the street in the rich part of town, right before I got chased out of there.

My stomach growled loudly as I opened the low fence to my cottage. Sweat dripped down my back.

"That's mine!"

A wave of exhaustion washed over me. The twins always took things from one another. Quite impressive, really, considering they didn't even have any playthings to speak of. All they had was the toys they made themselves, out of the twigs and leaves they found in the nearby forest. What their dad had carved for them out of wood, they'd already outgrown.

If only they'd stay in the forest...

It was a horrible thing to think. I felt guilty the moment it popped into my head. They were my kids. Well, step kids, but still.

"Give it back, Hansel!"

"Hansel!" I bellowed. "Give your sister her toy back, right now!"

"But it's mine! She's lying!" came his whiny little voice.

"No, I'm not!"

Bickering broke out between them and I decided to give up. Let their dad handle it. Where is he, anyway?

"Jürgen?" I called, towing the heavy cart into our garden. I hadn't sold anything today. Nor yesterday, or the day before. All the wood my husband had chopped the past few days still filled up my cart.

"Jürgen?"

People didn't want wood with this summer heat. They wanted food. Clean water. Things a lumberjack like Jürgen couldn't sell them.

Things that were scarce this summer.

"Kids, where's your dad?"

"Daddy's not home yet. Give it back, Hansel! Klara said so!"

A groan escaped both my stomach and my mouth. Leaving the cart in the garden, I entered our little cottage. Everything inside was made of wood. The furniture, the kids' old toys, the decorations on the walls. Jürgen loved woodwork. Not just cutting it down, but making pretty things out of it too. Unfortunately, they had never been quite good enough to sell. Believe me, I'd tried...

As the sky outside darkened, I opened the cabinets. They were empty. I turned to the bowl on the table. Completely empty.

"Kids!" I called through the hatch in the kitchen wall. "Have you gathered any berries or mushrooms in the forest?"

The twins fell eerily silent. Not again...

"Erm... We... We couldn't find any."

I should've known. I should've known when I came home and they didn't immediately complain of being hungry.

"For the love of everything holy," I shrieked. "You've eaten it again?"

They flinched, but I didn't care. I was starving. Jürgen would be starving when he came home. Yet we had nothing to eat.

If only they'd stayed in the forest.

The thought hit me again as I watched them bicker and play. It had done so quite a lot lately. Without the kids, we had two fewer mouths to feed. Two fewer bodies to clothe.

Perhaps we'd actually survive the scorching summer.

Jürgen came back late that night. So late I'd already put the kids to bed. The first thing he said, with a had on his belly, was, "Where's dinner?"

I glared at him darkly. "Ask your kids."

His face fell. "By the devil, not again." He sunk onto a chair, his head in his hands. His face was pale, his arms trembled.

I stroked my fingers softly against his shoulder. "We can't go on like this, Jürgen. We have to do something."

"Like what?" he muttered into his hands.

The hunger interfered with my ability to inhibit. Before I could stop myself, I'd blurted out, "Do you know the story of Romulus and Remus?"

He looked up curiously. "The founders of Rome? Of course I know it."

"They were abandoned in a forest and raised by a wolf."

I let my words hang between us. I let them simmer in his head.

"No," he whispered.

"We will starve to death if we don't do something."

"We will not sacrifice the kids for our own lives!" he bellowed.

I shushed him, glancing over his shoulder to the door the twins slept behind. "It may not be a sacrifice." I raised my hands placatingly. "If not the wolves, perhaps a kind soul will take pity on them. We have to do something, Jürgen. Do you want us all to starve?"

"There's wild animals in that forest," he whispered. "We can't do this, Klara, they're my kids."

"I know. I love them, too," I lied. I hadn't loved them since the hunger started. "But if we go on like this, we'll all starve. All four of us. It's our best option, Jürgen, we both know that."

He stared at me for a long time. I sat down on his lap and wrapped my arms around him, rocking him back and forth. "It's okay, love," I whispered. "It'll be alright."

"We won't do it," he said eventually. "Not that. Not the kids."

I froze on his lap. My heart turned to ice, as my stomach growled once more. "Fine," I said, pushing off of my husband. "We'll all just starve to death, then."

With one last angry glare, I disappeared into our bedroom.

I lay in bed for hours waiting for the rage to die down. It didn't. Neither did my hunger. In the end, the thought I fell asleep to, was, If you won't do it, I'll do it myself.