Over the top of the hedgerow, two sparrows chirrled at each other, cavorting
back and forth and flapping upward just as they were about to snag a stray
branch, then resumed their chatter for a moment before the fog enveloped them
again and they vanished both sight and sound at once.

She could still see the house on the hill above her, so it wasn’t as though the
garden maze had her spun in any large sense of the word, but she still couldn’t
see a clear path to anywhere at all short of the twists and turns ahead of her.

It wasn’t just plain hedge either. Parts of it had thick vines snaking over the
top on woven canopies, ivy almost completely blocking the path, though if she
shuffled through, she could keep her feet on the stone. The paths were narrow,
just wide enough for her to walk and brush the branches on both sides. At least
Harald had kept the garden well. A few weeks growth would choke parts of it out
completely.

She rounded the corner and came face to face with a blank stone wall, plain
grey granite, hard and smooth.  No path forward past it, and it was surrounded
carefully by mostly well-trimmed ivy, framing it like a door. She brushed aside
a stray curl, and spotted a small keyhole.

She pushed on the stone. It was warm to the touch, warmer than she expected,
but didn’t give.

She turned back, hoping there was another path out of the maze. Ten steps. One
tight corner. She squeezed back through, trying not to break branches.

The path she had followed was gone. Just a dead end there now. She turned
again, squeezing back through the narrow corner again. The house wasn’t far
away, towering above on the hill, from this angle it looked like a castle.

A piece of white ribbon caught on her casted arm as she retraced her steps,
cleverly hidden from view, but the awkward angle of her arm had been just right
to knock it loose. Attached was a small brass key.

Now she was sure she was being toyed with, but she wasn’t sure how. It’s not
like you could move a hedgerow in a few minutes.

The key fit the lock in the stone. It swung easily once it was unlocked. The
stone was just a façade, just a thin veneer over a wooden door. She stepped
through, and found herself in a panelled parlor. She peeked back out, realizing
that the hill was part of the house, and she was right against it. 

A woman looked up from a needlepoint, sitting in an overstuffed chair and
peered at her.

“Did Harald send you in for tea?”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that. Does being abandoned, or even trapped in a
garden maze count as an invitation to whatever you find at the end?

“I ... well, I was trying to find my way out.”

“Oh, well. I could tell you how.” The woman was very pleasant, with her grey
hair piled on top of her head, perched just the same way her glasses were on
her nose, as if they might go sliding off at any moment and land in a heap in
her lap, but somehow they stayed fast.

She looked eagerly at the woman.

“But it might change on you before you get there.”

She was sure something showed on her face at that, and she wasn’t sure if it
was wonder or annoyance.

“Have some tea. I’ll fetch some biscuits and tea.”

The woman moved in a way that could only be described as bustling. Every motion
seemed hasty, but not out of place, carefully constrained. She hummed a little
tunelessly, but made a sort of cluck with every step she took.

She bustled out of the room, and it wasn’t long before she bustled back in
carrying a tea-tray.