“It would seem you’re not as effective as you used to be,” she said to him. “Brought down by nothing more than a small girl.” Hugo’s fear-filled eyes turned to Katarina. Quicker than Snow’s eyes could process, Katarina brought Hugo’s own knife up into the air and plunged it into his heart. A pant of shock escaped Snow at the gesture and her arrow sagged. It was too late for her to help Hugo now. She’d never forget watching him gasp and wheeze as his last breath left him. As if she hadn’t been the one to cause his death, Katarina gently touched his face before she stood to face Snow.
Snow immediately brought her arrow back up, planting her feet. Her arms trembled with shock and fear. Katarina smiled at her as she began walking toward her. Snow moved to the side, keeping enough distance between them to have time to shoot.
“Stop,” Snow commanded. Her voice quivered, not as forceful as she’d intended.
“What are you going to do, Snow? Shoot your mother?”
“You’re not my mother,” she said.
Katarina stopped at her words. “No? Then who am I, Snow White?”
“I can’t let you go on hurting people, Katarina.”
Katarina tilted her head in curiosity. “Who taught you to shoot a bow and arrow, Snow?” Her eyes grazed the bow, then widened. “Where did you get that?” she demanded, rage lining her voice.
“From a friend,” Snow said, refusing to name a single soul from Fableton. She tipped the point of the arrow directly at Katarina’s heart. “And he taught me how to use it very well.”
“Not well enough,” Katarina said, taking another step.
Snow loosed the arrow, which aimed straight and true toward Katarina’s heart. Faster than Snow could imagine possible, Katarina stepped to the side and caught the arrow in her hand, Snow halfway in the movement of pulling another arrow from her quiver. She froze in astonishment at the arrow in Katarina’s hand.
Katarina laughed as if they were playing an amusing game. “Your little arrows won’t hurt me.”
Snow pulled the arrow down and notched it against the bow. She glanced to the side, looking for the sword and realized Katarina had moved so that she stood between Snow and the sword. She gritted her teeth against her stupidity in removing it.
“Not to worry, Snow, you wouldn’t be able to hurt me with the sword either.” She looked down at the arrow in her hand and an angry flush flooded her cheeks. Her hand shook and she gripped the arrow so hard that it snapped in two. The sound caused Snow to jump. Katarina’s livid eyes turned to her. “Where did you get this?” Her voice shook with the force of her rage as she held the broken arrow toward Snow, shaking it. She suddenly thrust it to the side and turned to scoop the sword up. She didn’t turn to Snow with threat though, only pulled it from the scabbard and examined it. Dropping it, she turned to face Snow.
The absolute rage Snow saw on her face terrified her more than anything she’d ever seen in her life. She definitely didn’t look beautiful now.
“You’ve been there, haven’t you?” Katarina spit.
“Been where?” Snow asked, proud of how calm she sounded. Inside, she was quaking.
“You’ve been to Fableton! I’d recognize these weapons anywhere. They belong to Philip.”
Snow hated hearing Philip’s name on Katarina’s lips. She let the arrow fly once again. This time it struck Katarina right in the chest. However, she only glanced down at it as if a fly had landed on her. She pulled it from her chest and tossed it to the side.
Snow’s jaw dropped at the action. She notched another arrow and let it fly. Katarina caught this one, prepared for it. She walked toward Snow, stalking her as a panther stalks its prey. Snow released two more arrows, but Katarina caught them both without even a hitch in her step. Realizing the arrows were futile, Snow tossed the bow to the side and shrugged out of the quiver. She quickly dropped into a crouch, bringing her fists up. Katarina hesitated.
“They’ve taught you well, haven’t they?” she murmured. “One thing they forgot to take into account, though. I can only be destroyed by one who is pure of heart. Trying to kill me blackens your heart, which ironically makes you unable to kill me.” She cackled and lunged at Snow.
Snow was prepared for her to attack and neatly sidestepped, using an elbow in Katarina’s back to force her to the ground. She quickly moved away, knowing Katarina would get up and try again.
Snow was correct that Katarina would get up, but she was unprepared for the face that now scowled at her. Katarina’s face had transformed. Her face was lined with deep grooves, tinted green. Her black lips peeled back to reveal razor sharp protruding teeth. Her nose was large and hooked, and her eyes glowed red.
She jumped toward Snow, Katarina’s hands wrapping around her neck. Claws extended from Katarina’s fingers dug into her neck. She fisted her hands and brought them up between Katarina’s arms, thrusting her own arms apart. It wasn’t enough to break Katarina’s hold, but loosened it enough for her to shove one palm against Katarina’s grotesque nose.
Katarina dropped to the ground, wailing as she held her bleeding nose. Snow quickly scrambled backward, out of Katarina’s reach, and brought her fists up. Katarina glared up at her and Snow tried to think.
“You’re not so beautiful now, are you?” she said. Katarina’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t attack, so Snow continued. “You look like a hideous old witch. No wonder he couldn’t stand you. He’d rather be blind than look at you as you are now.”
Katarina screeched, piercing Snow’s ears. Instead of attacking, she brought her hands up to look at them. They were grooved like her face, long black claws protruded. Her expression went from rage to fear in an instant. She touched her face, feeling the ridges there.
“What did you do to me?” she asked, her voice pleading.
“I didn’t do anything,” Snow said. “This is all you. The real you.”
Katarina screeched again and suddenly she shot upward toward the sky and disappeared. Snow’s hands dropped in astonishment. She stared at where Katarina had been. She was gone. But how gone? She glanced toward Hugo’s body and with a shock saw that he was gone also. A scan of the clearing showed that everything was gone—her weapons, her pack, everything.
Suddenly panicked, she began running. Did her weapons disappearing with Katarina mean everything had disappeared? Including Fableton, Grouchy, Dim, Medic . . . Philip? She ran as hard and fast as she could, thrashing through trees, tripping over roots. Her hands and knees where shredded from falling and still she ran. Finally she ran into a tree in the darkness and, knocked violently backward, stayed down. She couldn’t see anything, not even her hand in front of her face. She curled up in a ball, unable to stop the tears that soaked her cheeks or the sobs that wracked her body.
*****
A slice of sun came through the trees, beaming directly onto Snow’s closed eyes. She turned away from the searing light, blinking her eyes open. When she saw where she lay, the memory of the night before came flooding back. She pushed her battered body into sitting position. Her eyes burned from the amount of crying she’d done, and her throat burned where Katarina had choked her.
She had to get back to Fableton. She needed to know if it was still there. She used the tree she’d run into the night before to push herself into standing position. She looked around and realized she had no idea where she was. She tried to remember what Dozy and Sneezer had taught her about tracking. She pressed her hands against the side of her head as she tried to remember, but it was gone. She had no memory of what they’d told her.
She moved, stumbling through the trees, searching. She’d found it before, she could find it again. But something wasn’t right. Something was off. She stopped and listened. That was when she heard it. Birds chirped in the distance. Critters scrambled through the brush. Bugs scrabbled across leaves.
And she knew. Fableton was gone. Katarina had disappeared and the enchantment over the forest had been lifted, allowing living things to once again thrive in the forest. Her shoulders slumped in defe
at. She slid down against a tree, not caring that the bark scraped up her spine. She dropped her face into her hands, too emotionally exhausted to even cry.
She’d failed. She’d failed all of them. She’d broken her promise to destroy Katarina and break the curse. And now they were all gone.
Snow wasn’t sure how long she sat in that position when she heard it.
“Sno-o-ow,” a female voice called. Her head snapped up. Was it Katarina? Maybe she’d been wrong. “Snow, are you out here?”
The voice came closer and Snow looked around for something to use as a weapon. She picked up a jagged rock and pushed herself to her feet.
“Snow, please! If you’re out here, answer me.”
The voice was familiar, but not Katarina’s. Whose then?
“C’mon, Snow, answer me.”
Snow gasped as the rock rolled from her hand. Channy. The thought was followed by action.
“Channy!” she called, her throat binding the words into little more than a rasp.
“Snow?” This time Channy’s voice was a question.
“Channy!” Snow called again, pushing her words past the pain.
“Snow!” Channy’s answer was a delighted squeal. She began thrashing through the trees and suddenly she was there.
“Channy,” Snow gasped, stumbling forward. Channy caught her in her arms and together they sank to the ground as relief and grief mingled in Snow’s tears.
Channy held her for a few minutes, then pushed her to arm’s length. “What happened to you? Are you okay?”
Snow shook her head. “No, I’m never going to be okay again.”
Channy gave her a little shake. “You’re going to be fine, do you hear me?”
Snow gazed at Channy. There was something different about Channy. How long had she been gone?
“You look like you need a good shower and some sleep,” Channy said. “We need to get you home. But first, you need to eat something.”
Channy shrugged her backpack off, turning to unzip and dig through it. She turned back around triumphantly, an apple held in her hand. “I knew I had something in there. Here, eat this. You’ll feel better and we can get you home.”
“No,” Snow said, shaking her head. “I can’t go home. I have to find Philip.”
Something flashed in Channy’s eyes as Snow said Philip’s name, but was gone so quickly she must’ve imagined it.
“Who’s Philip?” Channy asked. Before Snow could answer, she said, “Never mind. You can tell me later. If you don’t want to go to your house, we’ll go to mine. I’ll hide you there.”
Snow nodded. Channy was right, she needed to rest and get her strength back if she had any hope of finding Philip and the others. Channy would take care of her, and she’d help her find Fableton.
“Now eat,” Channy said. “And then we’ll go and you can tell me about . . . everything.”
Snow took the apple. Her stomach churned. She had no appetite, but she wanted to go. She knew she must eat or Channy wouldn’t take her. She bit into the apple. It was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted, crispy, wet, and sweet.
“Did you love him?” Channy asked. Snow glanced up at her. “This Philip, did you love him?”
Snow thought it strange that Channy would ask her that, but she nodded. “Yes, I did . . . I do.”
She took another bite of the apple, but this bite was bitter. She chewed as she looked down at the apple. The skin of the apple was blood red, the same as the strawberries that Katarina grew, the same as the berries Dim warned her not to eat.
“Where did you get this?” she whispered, alarmed.
Snow looked at Channy when she didn’t answer. Channy smiled benignly at her. “It’s fine. Keep eating it.” Snow looked into Channy’s eyes. Channy’s eyes were brown, she knew that. But the Channy before her had dark eyes, eyes that were almost black. Eyes the same color as . . .
“You’re not Channy,” she gasped, throwing the apple away from her. She watched as it rolled away, horrified to see it was nothing more than a collection of berries. All of the little berries turned into worms and began a frantic bid for escape across the dirt. At the same moment she realized that the forest was silent once again. She’d been tricked into hearing the sounds.
“You’re smarter than I thought,” Channy said. Only it wasn’t Channy’s voice, but Katarina’s. Her eyes widened as Channy’s face morphed into that of Katarina. She glanced toward the apple. “Too bad you didn’t figure it out sooner.”
Snow struggled to her feet, but the effects of the berries quickly swept through her body. Lethargy stole her strength and she sunk back down. She struggled to keep her eyes open. “Wha’ ‘id y’ . . .” Her mouth felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton, and she couldn’t form any words.
“Nothing more than I did to that pathetic father of yours.” Katarina leaned down, her eyes boring into Snow’s. “I win, Snow White. You could have broken the curse if you believed in yourself, but you didn’t. So now the curse remains, and Philip will forever be mine.” Snow tried to speak, unable to force anything from her throat. Only a breath came out, and Katarina laughed in delight. Then her smile dropped, pure evil coming into her countenance as she said, “Now, you die. And I shall make a gift of your lifeless body to Philip to show him what happens when he tries to defeat me.”
No! Snow tried to scream, but nothing emerged as the darkness claimed her from the world.
*****
The Seven stood around the glass casket, heads bowed and shoulders drooping with grief. Within, Snow lay looking as perfect as she had in life. She was dressed in a beautiful white dress, mockingly reminiscent of a wedding dress, a wedding she’d never have. Her cheeks bloomed with color, her lips were red, her hair looked as it did when she was heading to the castle to see Philip.
As one, the turned their sorrow filled eyes to Philip, who stood at the head of the casket. He gazed down at Snow unerringly. He’d not moved from the spot since she’d shown up five days prior, with a note from Katarina which read, “You did this. Now she’s yours forever.”
If it weren’t enough that Snow lay there to mock and accuse him, Katarina had given him the ill-fated gift of sight whenever he looked at her. He was still blind otherwise, but when his eyes fell upon Snow within the casket, he could see perfectly clearly.
Food and water was brought to him, and a chair in which he could sleep when his body betrayed him and insisted on slumber. Still, he was gaunt with heavy, dark circles beneath his eyes. They knew he wouldn’t die—none of them would without taking purposeful action toward that end, but he’d suffer mightily. They knew he’d do whatever bare minimum was required of him to stay alive to watch over her for an eternity, thus his willingness to eat and drink when food or water was brought.
Many times, tears rolled silently down his face as he gazed at Snow. He’d whisper that he was sorry, over and over, but only if The Seven were there alone. If anyone else was near, he remained silent in his agony.
Everyone from town had come to pay their respects, and the ground was littered with flowers beneath the casket. Everyone who’d met Snow had loved her and respected her. They’d all expected she would marry Philip and become their princess. Now her lifeless body lay in repose, taunting Philip in its healthy glow.
The first day she’d arrived, Philip had sent for Medic and opened the casket, urging him to help her. But she was gone. In spite of her appearance, her body was cold. Her heart hadn’t even flickered at his ministrations, nor had a single breath escaped her. He’d been witness to Philip’s overwhelming grief at that time. He’d never forget the sounds that came from the prince, nor the look of utter hopelessness on his face.
*****
Months passed, and still Snow White slumbered. Philip became more and more gaunt and sickly, until The Seven worried he would join her in death. He continued to stay by her side. His hair and beard had grown long and scraggly, and he desperately needed a bath and change of clothes.
; “You must take care of yourself,” Medic urged. Philip ignored him. Medic looked at Snow White and her healthy glow. She almost appeared . . . healthier as time passed. He turned to Philip. “She looks better, doesn’t she? I mean, better than when she was first brought. Better than yesterday.”
Philip leaned closer to the glass. He gasped. “What does it mean?”
“I don’t know,” Medic admitted. “But maybe . . .” When he hesitated, Philip turned his gaze to Medic, his eyes immediately clouding over. “Maybe she’s not quite dead.”
Philip strode around the casket and grasped Medic’s lapels, drawing the smaller man to him. “What does . . . she’s alive?” he demanded fiercely.
Medic glanced back at Snow. “Not yet, but maybe . . . maybe she’s getting better. Maybe she’s, I don’t know, coming back.”
Philip thrust Medic away from him. He turned back to Snow, feverish hope lighting his eyes. “Open it. We’ve got to get her out of there!”
“But, Prince Philip—”
“I said open it,” he growled.
Medic crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine. But not until you get cleaned up and put some clean clothes on. Do you want her to wake up and see you like this?”
Philip looked about to argue, but perhaps he got a whiff of his smell because he nodded his agreement. “Will you stay with her until I return?” he asked humbly.
“We all will,” Grouchy said as the other six came up the path.
Again Philip nodded. He looked back into the casket, placing his face on the glass as he gazed at Snow’s beautiful face. “Come back to me,” he whispered. Then he stood and went home to take care of himself.
*****
An hour later Philip returned, clean, shaved, and fed. When he was near enough for his eyes to see the casket, he saw that The Seven had removed the top and side pieces of glass. Snow White lay on the silken white cloth, looking as if she’d open her eyes at any second.
As he came near, he heard The Seven shuffling back to give him space. He didn’t take his eyes from Snow. He dropped to his knees next to her head. He lifted a hand and touched her face. It was warm where it had been cold the last time they’d opened the casket to revive her.
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