The jingling stopped and heavy pounding shook the cottage. Gretchen squeaked with fright and dodged behind Mami's skirts while Papi went to answer the door. Karsten, Gretchen's older brother, stood next to the stove trying to look brave. Hoder, her younger brother, stuck his fingers in his mouth and wriggled on old Oma's lap. He was too little to know what Mother Night was about.
Gretchen's heart was going bumpity-bump and she didn't know whether she wished Papi would open the door quick or slam down the bar to keep it firmly shut. She was a sturdy child, with red braids Mami had coiled special just above her ears for the Mother Night celebration. Mami's skirts were rough between her strong little fingers, but they wouldn't save her from Mother Berchte.
Papi took a deep breath and opened the door. Snow swirled into the room, making the candle flames dance like little ghosts, and Mother Berchte stomped into the cottage, muttering and complaining under her breath. Gretchen swallowed hard. Mother Berchte was tall, taller than Papi, and she had horns on her head and fangs in her mouth and claws on her fingertips. A tail dragged the ground behind her and she carried a sack flung over one shoulder. She smelled like smoke and old meat. Behind her stood a huge white goat, the biggest Gretchen had ever seen. It was as big as Papi's plowhorse, and it followed Mother Berchte into the house with a clattering of hooves and a jingling of bells.
"Good evening, Mother," Papi said respectfully. He closed the door. "Enter and welcome."
The goat sank to its knees in the corner closest to the stove and Mother Berchte glared angrily about the room. Gretchen hid her face in the folds of Mami's skirt, but eventually she couldn't bear it any longer and peeped cautiously around to look.
Mother Berchte was staring right at her.
Gretchen tried to hide her eyes again, but found she couldn't. Mother Berchte's glittering black eyes held hers for long time, and Gretchen almost stopped breathing, she was so frightened. Was Mother Berchte going to stuff her into the sack and take her away? That's what happened to Katja last year. No one had seen her since.
Then Mother Berchte grinned a wicked grin and opened her sack. "All right, then--gather around."
Gretchen let her breath out with a whoosh. Once Mother Berchte told you to gather around, it was safe. That's what Papi said. It didn't matter if you were good or bad or hiding in bed. If Mother Berchte took a child, there was nothing anyone could do about it.
Gretchen let Mami nudge her forward as Mother Berchte began pulling brightly-wrapped presents from her sack. Gretchen quickly forgot her fear as she unwrapped a new rag doll--how had Mother Berchte known her old one had fallen into the well?--and a new dress and new shoes and new mittens. Karsten got a shirt and leggings and boots and mittens and--best of all--a real, sharp-bladed knife that caught the firelight and made it glitter. Karsten's eyes shone with pride as he strapped it to his belt and strutted importantly around the cottage. Gretchen felt a surge of jealousy and Mother Berchte opened her sack again.
"All right, then--gather around."
Gretchen's eyes grew round, jealousy quickly forgotten, as Mother Berchte handed out food. Sweet little cakes and decorated cookies and red apples and purple plums and--oh my--even strawberries. Everyone, including Oma, thanked Mother Berchte nicely, and Gretchen, remembering her manners, did not gobble up every strawberry Mother Berchte laid on the table, but instead offered to share with Oma and little Hoder.
Mother Berchte, meanwhile, pulled a large cauldron out of her sack, drew her knife, and turned to the goat. "Nassirskaegi!" she spat. "Come here, you old goat!"
Nassirskaegi, forgotten in his corner by the stove, slowly rose to his feet and clattered across the floor to Mother Berchte. A hush fell over the room and Gretchen paused with the last strawberry halfway to her mouth. She had heard stories about this, but she had never seen it. She threw a quick glance at Oma, who winked, and that made Gretchen feel better as Mother Berchte yanked Nassirskaegi's head back by one horn and, with a swift slash of her knife, cut Nassirskaegi's throat.
Blood ran into the cauldron at Mother Berchte's feet and Nassirskaegi collapsed without a sound. In no time at all, Mother Berchte had him skinned and butchered. Gretchen couldn't believe her eyes. Not even Papi, who butchered pigs every fall for the neighbors, could work so fast. An impossibly short time later, the cottage was filled with the thick, savory smell of goat stew. Gretchen felt rather sorry for poor Nassirskaegi, but hadn't Papi always told her that animals were meant to be eaten?
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