Faerietale

by Stephanie Rabig

  Once they saw Red, they all began to growl as one, hackles rising. Their teeth glittered in the small beams of moonlight that penetrated through the trees. Slowly, they closed in on Red, a circle of them all pacing and snarling around her.

  The Prince wanted to cry out, to call to her, to tell her to get to safety. He wanted to be brave, to save her – but there were so many wolves, and their teeth looked so sharp.

  Red raised her crossbow, smiled, and cried out, “Liliac!”

  A great rustling rose amongst the trees. Leaves seemed to lift off from the branches above him, from branches everywhere, from deep inside the forest. For a moment, the Prince was certain that Red had animated the trees, had brought the leaves to life with some kind of forest magic. But then one of the supposed leaves flew right at his face, scraping his cheek; and he saw that they were bats, hundreds of them, all flapping madly.

  “Ataca!” Red screamed, and down came the bats, diving towards the wolves.

  Yelping, leaping, and snarling, the wolves bit at the bats, a frantic, seething mass of fur and teeth and wings. In the midst of them all Red whirled, the thwing of her crossbow and the ssshh of her knives slicing the air as she spun.

  The Prince knew, somewhere in his gut, that he should be horrified. But there was something completely mesmerizing about the scene, about the few glimpses of Red that he could see. There were moments where he saw her face, flushed and bathed in the white light of the moon, her perfect lips drawn back into a hideous snarl. Her eyes were alight and lively, not like he'd ever seen them: this was her passion, her life, the fire that drove her every day. This was what Red truly loved.

  Around her, her self-made chaos played itself out. And when it all ended – maybe minutes, maybe hours later – the bats rose in one perfect spiral and circled around her, shrieking to one another – or perhaps to her. In the midst of them, bloody and armed, Red threw her head back and laughed.

  She was strangely beautiful like that, even in the midst of such carnage.

  Maybe that was where she belonged. In the middle of carnage.

  The bats left her eventually. Slower now, tired perhaps, she moved towards the wolves.

  The Prince watched up until she stuck her knife in the first wolf and started to peel back its skin. Dry heaving, he turned away, pressing himself close to the trunk of the tree and willing himself not to be ill.

  It took ages for her to finish. Whistling cheerfully and covered in blood, Red moved around beneath his tree, cursing occasionally. The Prince didn't dare look to see what she was doing. He didn't want to know.

  Finally, she completed her work. The Prince was stiff, exhausted, and cold, and wanted to wipe everything he'd seen from his mind; but he knew he wouldn't be able to get back without following Red. He didn't dare approach her after what he'd seen. He was certain now that she would kill him if ever she knew he'd followed her here.

  He turned just long enough to see if she was still in the same spot. She was, but she was packing up; and hanging from the trees all around her were bloody hides, the entrails strewn messily underneath.

  This time, the Prince nearly heaved up whatever was left of his supper. But he managed to steady himself with a few deep breaths.

  Still whistling, Little Red slung her crossbow over her shoulder and started back the way she had come.

  When she was far enough ahead, the Prince leapt down from his perch, nearly smacking into a wolf hide on the way down. Letting out the smallest of cries, the Prince turned away and ran after Red, following her home.

  There was a secret door into the castle. It led past parts of the palace the Prince had never seen before, hadn't even known existed.

  He could easily have gotten lost in his own home, and never have found the way back.

  His head was pounding; his cheek was throbbing; he was sore from sitting in the tree for so long; and every inch of him was bone-weary. He knew for certain that he did not want to have another adventure like this, ever again.

  He was plotting his next visit out of the palace the moment he started to fall asleep.

  ***

  “I thought forest magic was backwards. Something to ridicule.”

  The Prince opened his mouth to snap at her, to tell her that now wasn't the time for such petty games; didn't she realize his sister could be in trouble? Then he remembered himself, and spoke politely. “That was merely a game. Not my true opinion.”

  “Hm,” she said. “I have a feeling forest magic joins the long list of things you have no true opinion about, until they become useful to you.”

  That stung, and though he tried not to show it, he knew from her smile that she had seen the truth on his face. “Red, I need to know where my sister is. She's never gone so long without coming to see me. I've checked her quarters on more than one occasion and they're always empty.”

  “Are you sure you didn't offend her with one of your asinine comments?”

  He gritted his teeth. “I'm sure.”

  Apparently satisfied that she'd tormented him enough for now, she nodded for him to follow.

  Her room was in the lower levels of the palace, away from most foot traffic and guards and other prying eyes. She shut the door behind them, and retrieved a thick pack of cards from her bedside stand.

  She sat down on the floor and he sat across from her, watching eagerly as she fanned out the cards. His face fell as he realized that all of them were blank.

  “Red--”

  “Hush,” she said, her voice amused rather than irritated. “Patience, Prince.” Removing three cards from the stack, she set the others aside and set the selected three down on the floor between them. “Cards, tell me truly,” she whispered. “What has become of Snow White?”

  Then she reached down, and gently pressed her index finger against the first card. An image shimmered into view.

  As it clarified, the Prince recoiled. The image was horrid; a woman with her eyes and mouth stitched shut. “Does that mean . . . is she . . .?”

  “This is The Bound Woman,” Red told him. “It means secrets. Great pain.” He stared at the gruesome image, and then it faded from sight completely as she moved her hand back.

  She touched the second card.

  He thought it displayed a figure wearing a red shirt, and then he peered closer and realized that the masked person's throat was slashed.

  “The Bloodletting card,” she said. “Violence.”

  He tried to swallow, only to have his tongue scrape against the roof of his mouth. “The-- the last?” he rasped.

  The final card showed a cloaked figure walking down an abandoned lane. A multitude of glowing, malevolent eyes watched from the shadows.

  “The Monsters. Constant danger, from a variety of sources.” She picked the cards up then, and slid them back into the deck.

  “Red. This means Snow is . . . I have to go to her. Where is she? Can the cards tell me where?”

  “They are made for generalities, not specifics. Do not fret so much, Prince,” she said. “Your sister lives.”

  “How do you know? What you just showed me--”

  She set one card back down on the floor and spoke, her words sharp and short. He thought of the bloody wolf hides. “Where is my father?”

  As she touched the card, a human head appeared. Bone showed through in most places, and a crow tugged at one of the remaining flaps of skin. The Prince turned away.

  “Because this card did not show itself when I asked about her,” she said. “Snow lives.”

  ***

  "So his mom is actually the one who cursed you?" Alice asked. It was kinda weird, not looking at the person you were talking to-- she was outside the cabin right now, while Beauty was crouched away from her inside-- but so far they were doing okay. At least the other woman was back safely now. “Man. That's some serious Romeo and Juliet shit."

  The other woman didn't say anything, and Alice realized something.

  "You do know what I'm talking about, right? William Shakesp
eare? 'What light through yonder window breaks'? 'My only love hath sprung from my only hate'?" Still nothing. "I gotta stop making pop culture references around you guys."

  Then, quietly: "Are you trying to say that I love him? Because I don't."

  The words were quick, sharp, and Alice smiled. "See, this is yet another place where Shakespeare would come in handy. 'Methinks the lady doth protest too much'."

  "And methinks you have no idea what you speak of."

  "Okay, so tell me! C'mon, you know how long it's been since I've had girl talk? My coworkers were 'eh' and Wendy can't remember if she's ever even had a crush and I really did not want to hear about the Prince so all the harem girls were out. I haven't had a girl talk since high school."

  She was silent for a long moment, and Alice wondered if maybe she'd offended her somehow. Probably. She'd offended everybody else in this realm.

  "You start?"

  Alice grinned. "I can so do that. Okay, so the Prince has a sister who's somehow not a horrible jerk like him. She's just-- seriously, the most poetry I've ever written is that dumb 'roses are red' stuff for school assignments but she makes me want to write actual sonnets. Smart as hell, too, she spends so much time in the biggest library I've ever seen in my life and I'm pretty sure she's read most everything in there. You have to have seen pictures of her or something. Portraits? So you know how gorgeous she is. Not really sure what she sees in me, but I tricked her somehow, I guess, and she's actually interested. No idea if I'll ever see her again because that's just my luck, but hey. Anyway, I'm babbling over here. So. What's the story with you and your guy?"

  "He's . . . he's not my guy."

  "But you want him to be."

  "I'm engaged to be married back in my village!"

  "Oooh, the plot thickens."

  "You are incorrigible."

  "Yeah, but something I've learned-- if you ask someone if they like someone else and they laugh, it usually means they really don't. If, however, they get all indignant and 'how dare you think such a thing'-- major denial going on.”

  "I don't like him," Beauty said, following it with the most halfhearted laugh Alice had ever heard.

  "Uh-huh. So what's this fiancé of yours like?"

  "Suitable."

  "Oh, wow. Be still my heart."

  "It was a compliment!" Beauty protested. "He's quite suitable for me. He's . . . there are many women in my Village who would dearly love to have him."

  "Okay. So where is he now?"

  "At home."

  "Not out here with you? Come on. I mean, this forest isn't exactly made of singing birds and dancing elves; why the hell wouldn't he be out here helping you?"

  "He's-- well . . . I'm-- I'm ugly now."

  "What, so you think you deserve that crap? And if he got a bad scar or something and you left him, you'd be ranted at, wouldn't you?"

  "It wouldn't be a good thing for me to do, especially depending on how he got disfigured; I--"

  "Oh, forget it. I'm going back through the Door long enough to get some bell hooks stuff."

  "He makes me laugh," Beauty said quietly, and though she hadn't said either one of the men's names, Alice knew she wasn't talking about her absent fiancé anymore simply because of how her tone had changed. Bemused and fond and something else that Alice couldn't quite name, but that probably would've made her tear up a little if she'd been the wimpy crying sort. "When I first came out here I was so angry and just so upset and sad and I didn't even smile. I didn't question that. Didn't think there was any other choice, really. I'm out here, I look like this, there's not anything to smile about. But he . . . I don't know how he does it. I speak with him and . . . and I feel like things might be all right again someday."

  Alice smiled softly, and then peered in to the lean-to enough to see that Beauty had crossed her arms tightly. Saying it, she realized, didn't necessarily mean wanting to deal with it right away.

  Okay, she thought. So she'd hit a different angle. "That's really sweet and all, but what I'm looking for is what he's like in the sack."

  "In what sack?"

  Alice stared at her for a couple of seconds. The woman was honestly confused. She had so much work to do around here. "It's a figure of speech. Means have sex. Make love. Take someone's clothes off and tell them to make you forget your own name. . ."

  "I wouldn't know such a thing."

  Alice would bet her face was as red a stop sign right about now, but she could also hear the held-back laughter in her voice. Mission accomplished.

  "Seriously," she said. "If you like him, don't let anyone try and talk you out of it in favor of someone more 'suitable'. Including you. Okay?"

  "Okay."

  ***

  As her stomach growled, Snow White wished again that she'd had some idea how to get the meat from the deer that the Huntsman had killed.

  There were some parts of the deer that weren't safe to eat; she'd at least known that much. And definitely knew that eating meat raw wasn't a good idea. But she had no knife to cut at the meat, no idea how to build a fire to cook it. She knew that some potion-makers had fire charms, but as she wasn't anywhere near a potion-maker, that information was next to useless.

  The carcass had at least been warm. It had smelled far from pleasant, but she'd decided that was the least of her worries and had moved closer to it, taking what warmth she could.

  At least until she'd heard the howls. That was when she'd realized that staying near a fresh kill might not be the best idea.

  Now she was reduced to wandering.

  For all the times that her brother had said she was too smart for her own good, for all the books she'd read, she certainly didn't feel smart right now. She'd gone to the Villages whenever she was able, but had never ventured out into the woods. Now she wished she'd at least read up more on this place. She'd heard legends, of course, but--

  Maybe they weren't legends, though. Who knew what was true and what was false out here?

  Then she heard a quiet whimper, and paused. A hurt animal? Or one that wanted her to think it was hurt so it could pounce?

  Wishing again that she had a weapon or at least some sort of disappearing potion, she hesitantly moved towards the sound.

  The large gray body stopped her in her tracks. A she-wolf, lying on its side, an arrow through its throat. Beside it a pup was nestled, whimpering and trying to arrange itself so it wouldn't disturb the arrow jutting from its side.

  She knew those arrows. Deep crimson fletching. How many times had she seen Little Red practicing with them out in the courtyard?

  Snow White hurried forward, remembering at the last second that even a small animal such as this could be dangerous when wounded and frightened. "Will you come to me?" she asked quietly, crouching down. She didn't know what she could do to help herself, let alone this little one, but one thing she did know was that no creature should be condemned to die alone, with no comfort.

  The pup whimpered again, nosed at its fallen mother, and then took a pained step towards her. Snow removed her cloak, goosebumps rising on her now-bare arms as she carefully draped the thick material around the pup, making sure to leave its wounded side untouched as she gingerly picked it up. She rested with it on her lap for several moments, making sure that it wouldn't panic. It remained still, save for panting, though she wasn't sure if that was because it had decided to trust her or of it was just too exhausted to be frightened.

  Finally she got to her feet, moving away from the murdered she-wolf and trying to find any signs of a path. Maybe she could find a bush with some berries, her books had shown her some pictures of ones that were safe to eat. But so far had yet to find one of those bushes, and now she needed to find something for this pup, as well. She doubted it would be satisfied with plants.

  Snow wandered until dusk fell, and then she realized that someone was following her.

  She heard no footsteps, saw no branches move in someone's wake. She just felt eyes on her. She had grown used to such things in th
e palace, to knowing when a servant was paying her too much attention, especially to feeling when Little Red was nearby. Nothing could convince her that the other woman wouldn't push her down a flight of stairs if she felt she could get away with it.

  For the first time, the pup whimpered, trying to get down. She wasn't sure if it was afraid, or if it wanted to go to their pursuer.

  Maybe it wasn't a person's eyes she felt, she thought. Maybe it was part of this little one's pack.

  The idea of facing an adult wolf turned her blood cold, and she crouched, reluctantly setting the pup down. If it was another wolf, hopefully the animal would be satisfied with the return of its young and would let her be. And if it wasn't a wolf, then the pup shouldn't be in danger once it was away from her. At least not in danger from her pursuer. She hated to let it go without healing its wound, but she'd had no idea how to do that in the first place.

  It wasn't a wolf. A bearded man stepped out of the trees in front of the pup, carefully picking up the animal, which whined and licked at his hands. He focused on the arrow for a moment, his expression darkening, and then he looked back up at her briefly. "Come on."

  He started off. She took a step or two after him, then hesitated. He glanced back, a hint of a smile on his face. "You have somewhere else to be?"

  Snow White thought it over for a moment, and then moved up to walk beside him. She had no other destination, and was not experienced enough to run and hide her tracks. "You wear no sign of allegiance to my mother."

  "With good reason."