Grady thought that the house looked surprisingly normal for belonging to such a strange old woman. It was sparsely furnished and there was pink flower print wallpaper in the living room.
"Nice place," his nerves spoke through him--trying to make conversation.
"Thank you. I just moved in, actually," the old woman honoured his attempt at conversation as she went into the the kitchen, pausing again to beckon him forward.
He followed very cautiously, no tree to push him this time, only his own curiosity to propel him forward. When he entered the kitchen, she was rummaging through the tall wooden cupboards. The room was an absolute disaster with boxes half unpacked and bottles and tins and packets of things everywhere. And very little of it looked like food. Who was this lady?
"In case ye are wondering--I brought ol' Willow with me. He's a loyal kind'a brute and would follow me to the ends of the earth, if I ever bothered to go such a place." She seemed to think her last comment was funny and began chuckling away to herself as she rummaged.
"Ah! There it is. The very thing I need!" She produced a bottle of dark liquid from the dishwasher--that clearly wasn't being used for dishes these days. And before Grady could protest or run away, she had grabbed him, tilted back his head with her clammy, knobbly hands, pinched his nose shut, and poured the strange liquid down his throat.