"I don't think that mattered." Not his slightly oafish (and inebriated) waltz or how long they were in town. As children, they tended to linger in places the longest, then as they grew and became more self-sufficient, their stay in a town was usually no longer than it took to track down a witch and burn her to ash. A week was usual- sometimes more, sometimes less. But their teenage years had the highest concentration of near-misses, with hormones messing with their heads, and the added dangers that came from a mix of adult bodies and naivety. Also the different kind of attention each of them had to deal with. Hansel may have been clumsy, but townsfolk were much quicker to accept a teenage scoundrel than his pants-wearing, somewhat foul-mouthed sister.
Still. There were a few fun times, and that's all she wanted him to focus on at the moment. Gretel settled into another soft silence, and made the conscious decision that there were still more of them to come.
They weren't dead. They weren't in Hell. There was hope, and like he was her anchor when the fear of it all nearly swept her away, there wasn't a thing in this whole fucking nightmare that could take her from him.