An aggravated voice pulling her attention, the queen stood with care and made her way to the window, watching the residents of the cabin emerge through the
trees. Trying to conjure an ounce of strength, she had none from which to draw. The stone, she wore around her neck, but without blood the stone was
nothing, and she had no blood left to spare, nor time to use that of Snow White.
Watching them approach, the queen realized with some embarrassment she could not even defeat seven dwarves. Pulling the bandana back over her face, and the
hat lower across her brow, Queen Ino spared a last lingering glance at Snow White before wrenching the door open and rushing into the fleeting evening.
"Hey!" Big Papa shouted as he watched a stranger run from their cabin, but the stranger did not stop and he knew his legs would never catch the long
strides of the fleeing bandit.
Turning instead toward the cabin, Big Papa wondered what the stranger had come to take.
Their home!
, he thought.
Their loot! Their...
"Snow White," he heard Baby G utter as he reached the door.
Pushing the dwarves aside, Big Papa stepped past them into the cabin, eyes coming to rest on Snow White's unmoving form.
"What's wrong with her?" Mo asked in a whisper.
"Well, I suspect she had a..." Big Papa began authoritatively, keeping his distance from the unmoving girl. "Clearly, she has a sleeping... needing...
sleep... need. Clearly."
"She is not moving," Baby G said with a sniff.
"Is that right?" Chauncy threw an aggravated hand into the air. "You must be a smart one to have noticed that."
"Be quiet, Chauncy," Big Papa said, taking the smallest steps he could in Snow White's direction, wondering how close he would have to get to see if she
would move, as the others huddled together in the door way.
Almost within touching distance, Big Papa reached out. Another tiny step forward. One baby step more.
"Why are we standing in the door?"
Jumping to twice his height, Big Papa screamed with the rest of the dwarves, but tried to appear unflustered as he looked back to find Cinderella jostling
the dwarves aside. Tripping over Esteban's feet, Sponk fell to the floor as Cinderella and Rapunzel rushed passed them.
"What happened?" Cinderella asked, dropping to her knee next to Snow White.
"We found her this way," Big Papa answered.
"Yeah," Esteban added. "Where were you?"
"Us?" Cinderella countered. "Where were you?"
"You were supposed to be with her."
"You were supposed to be here."
"We were working."
"Oh. Is that what you call it?"
"If you had stayed with her," Esteban declared, "she would be all right."
"We saved her the first time, remember?" Cinderella countered.
"What were you two doing off alone in the forest anyway?" he demanded.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Cinderella bit out, and Esteban growled at her.
"Stop, please," Rapunzel wearily pleaded, her hand resting upon Cinderella's arm. When Cinderella relented at once, Big Papa wondered how the girl had such
power that she always seemed capable of calming the beast within Cinderella. "There does not appear to be anything wrong with her."
Hand resting upon Snow White's heart, Cinderella leaned close to her light blue lips. "She is not dead," she said, and Big Papa risked a step closer to see
for himself.
"She is not exactly alive either," Rapunzel uttered, gently shaking Snow White's shoulder as if she might be woken as simply as from sleep.
"If she is not alive, she cannot stay in here," Big Papa firmly stated.
"Where do you suggest she go?" Disbelief darkened Cinderella's tone.
"We will build her a bed outside," he offered, nodding. "A safe one, with sides and a top to protect her. She can sleep there."
"A bed with sides and a top?" Cinderella scoffed. "That is a coffin. She is not dead."
"We will give it air holes," Mo assured Cinderella, but Cinderella looked decidedly unassured.
With a small laugh, her head shook. "She honestly believed you her friends," she said, and Big Papa felt the affront like a punch to his belly.
"Friends build their not-alive friends coffins, Girl. They do not live with them," he argued. "But if you two would like to take her somewhere else." He
gestured the way. "You are welcome to Snow White and the door."
The look of anger that flashed through Cinderella's eyes made Big Papa worry he might be the one to go through the door, but glancing across Snow White at
Rapunzel, Cinderella at last nodded her concession.
"Very well then," Big Papa stated. "Now that's settled, let us get to work."
On the rise behind the cottage, Snow White lay as still in the coffin as the dwarves slid the lid atop it as she had on the cabin floor.
"It is made of glass," Esteban stated.
"So that is what the translucency is all about," Cinderella countered, but she had no vigor to give him, and he must have realized it, because he said
nothing in return.
"She is so afraid of the phantoms of the forest," Rapunzel said softly, leaning into Cinderella's shoulder.
"She will not know they are there," Cinderella whispered past the tightness in her throat.
"Well, that is that," Big Papa declared, taking a deep breath and patting his hands together as if he just finished any ordinary chore, before turning to
face them.
"I suppose you should like us to leave," Cinderella said quietly, meeting Big Papa's gaze, Rapunzel's hand in her own the only thing that felt at all real.
"I, uh..." Big Papa grunted and looked around the darkening wood. "I suppose this late hour is not the time for such a trip." He puffed out his chest. "You
can leave tomorrow."
Spinning on his heel, he led the dwarves down the slope to the cabin, and, glancing toward Snow White, still and alone in the coffin, Cinderella clutched
more tightly to Rapunzel's hand as they followed the dwarves back inside.
While Chauncy and Mo pushed the door closed at their backs, Cinderella dropped down next to Rapunzel at the table, staring at the wood top for some time,
before two bowls of lumpy, strangely-colored porridge and two glasses of weakly-brewed tea slid across the table toward them.
Looking up at the dwarves gathered on the other side of the table, Cinderella tried but failed to smile, as she watched Rapunzel's hand slide across the
table to give Sponk's hand a gentle squeeze. "Thank you," she said softly, and the dwarves nodded before settling down with them to eat.
It was only later, lying in the darkness with Rapunzel's weight against her, an anomalous silence cloaking the room, that it occurred to Cinderella the
dwarves had finally demonstrated true kindness and Snow White was not there to see.
C
inderella sat hunched, elbows resting on her knees, ginger hair shielding her face as her eyes locked on tufts of grass, still brown and brittle from
winter's hold. The pine stump was rock-hard beneath her, but, for hours, she had not moved, accepting the discomfort as due penance.
It had been two days, two mornings in which Big Papa announced what time the dwarves would be home instead of telling them it was time to go, effectively
ending the discussion as to whether Cinderella and Rapunzel would leave the dwarves' cabin. Two days, and Snow White still lay half-dead in the coffin.
Straightening, Cinderella winced at the snaps, crackles and pops that traveled down her spine, and glanced to Snow White, eyes protesting as light glared
off the glass. Turning to find the source, she found nothing but trees at her back, until, eyes roaming upward more in curiosity than anticipation, her
gaze stopped on the great sphere that dotted the gap between two towering oaks.
It was too early in the season for a sun so high and warm and bright in the sky. It did not belong there. But, then, she was coming to recognize, neither
did she.
Upon Rapunzel's approach moments later, Cinderella was aware of the presence at her back before Rapunzel spoke.
"Keeping vigil is not going to change anything." Her soft voice carried through the clearing.
"We should have stayed with her," Cinderella whispered.
"What would we have done?" Rapunzel reasonably asked.
Shaking her head in response to the question, Cinderella dropped her chin into her hand, knowing there was no answer. Behind her, she could hear Rapunzel
moving, and, a moment later, she was there before her, sinking down into the grass, the fig, tomato and leather pouch in her hands dropping to the ground
at her sides.
"The queen clearly has some power," Rapunzel said, gentle fingers reaching out to comb through Cinderella's hair. "If she was intent on Snow White..."
"What if it was not the queen?" Cinderella cut her off quietly, and watched words fail Rapunzel.
"What do you mean?" she finally returned weakly.
"You know what I mean," Cinderella uttered. "You said it yourself. Dreamt it." At the instantaneous shake of Rapunzel's head, Cinderella powered on, as
much as she wanted to forget her own thoughts. "Where did those butterflies come from? Who sent them? Why did they come for us?"
"Perhaps, we were just in the wrong place..."
"And the pouch in Naxos?" Cinderella argued. "Falling from the tree, only for an entire guard to be lying in wait?"
"That trap could have been for anyone," Rapunzel whispered.
"But it was not for anyone," Cinderella returned. "That trap was for me. As the prince came for me with such determination. As Prince Salimen came for
you."
"People come for you in life. My mother said that," Rapunzel tried to reason. "You even said that."
"Yes," Cinderella admitted. "In Troyale and in Naxos, people came, because without meaning to, even through no fault of our own, we had enemies. Why did
something come for us in the kingdom of Hansel and Gretel? We had no enemies there."
Breath trembling past her lips, Rapunzel did not respond, and Cinderella knew it was because she could not deny such logic, even if she desperately wanted
Rapunzel to contradict.
"You feel as if someone is trying to change back your destiny, that is what you said," Cinderella reminded her, and watched tears press against Rapunzel's
eyes. "I did something, Rapunzel, when I left my kingdom. I changed something somehow. I can feel it. You can feel it. Even the seasons are wrong. It is as
if I angered fate, as if it wants to undo us."
"Do not say that!" Rapunzel sat suddenly taller, her hands on Cinderella's knees lightly connecting them. "I do not care, Cinderella, what fate wants. I am
glad you broke through barriers to get to Naxos. I am glad you found my tower. I am glad you had such an unusual gift to get me down. And I am glad that I
came with you. The life that was headed for me, it would never have made me happy."
"Are you happy now?" Cinderella countered.
"Yes." The simple statement was heart-wrenchingly sincere, and Cinderella dropped her gaze from the honesty in Rapunzel's eyes. "Is that really so hard for
you to believe?"
"Yes!" Cinderella shot back, turning quickly away, but not quickly enough. Feeling tears trailing down her cheeks, she was powerless to stop or conceal
them.
"Well, I am," Rapunzel replied. "So, we live in a cabin with little thieves, one whose bottom is out of his pants more than it is in them, and one so
handsy you would think it is girls' virtue he specializes in stealing, but at least I am free to leave whenever I please. Perhaps Tater and Chauncy snore
so loudly they make my eardrums vibrate, but it is better than the constant silence of always being alone. And, perhaps, I would be living in a castle
right now with servants and wealth..."
Reminded of all she had stolen from Rapunzel, Cinderella wanted desperately to escape, but Rapunzel's arm was just as desperate against her knees as it
pinned her firmly in place, and the hand on her chin was determined as it pulled her around until her eyes locked on Rapunzel's and the truth was all she
could see.
"But I would rather be here, with you, and die tomorrow than live a thousand years anywhere else."
"Do not say that." The tears unleashed in a torrent down Cinderella's face. "You may just get it."
Thumb moving to catch the falling drops, Rapunzel looked so lovingly at her, Cinderella was certain she would shatter beneath the gaze.
"I will take my chances," Rapunzel whispered, and it felt too much to bear.
She did not want to hear such truths. She did not want Rapunzel to risk anything to be with her. Yet, it was everything Cinderella was willing to risk for
the way Rapunzel looked at her, for the way she saw things within her no one else could see, for the feel of Rapunzel's skin against her fingertips as she
raised them to a pale cheek and watched Rapunzel's eyes close at her touch.
Back in Troyale, every time she had gone to fetch her family's bread, Cinderella would listen to the bakerwoman rant her crazed poetry -
It is my lot in
this life to be covered in flour. My lot is to feed as I starve.
- and decided then, if the bakerwoman could accept her lot, she too could accept her place
in the world.
She never had, though, truly accepted it. She had run from it, and, now, it was coming after her, coming after them both. All because she wanted more than
what was given to her.
"Do you not miss your kingdom?" she questioned gently. "Your mother?"
"Of course," Rapunzel returned, eyes opening into Cinderella's. "Those things were all I knew. It did not make what my mother did to me right."
"Perhaps, she truly was protecting you."
"From what?" Rapunzel argued. "This world is not as she said, for there are many good things in it."
Glancing away from the hypnotizing eyes that somehow always made her believe, Cinderella's gaze locked on the coffin and Snow White's unmoving form inside.
"Nor is it that different than she said, for there are many bad things in it."