Snow White

by Cindy C. Bennett

  Katarina moved to her closet, pulling a backpack down. She then walked around the room, putting pairs of pants and t-shirts in the bag. She pulled a large wad of money from her pocket and shoved it into the backpack. What is she doing?

  A few minutes later, a knock sounded on the door. Snow’s eyes followed her mother as she opened the door, widening when she saw the large man who stood there. He towered over her tall stepmother, and dwarfed her in his breadth. His arms were as big and sturdy as tree trunks. His wiry red hair was bound back into a hair tie. A fuzzy red beard covered his face beneath a hawked nose. He looked like a fierce warrior from a storybook.

  “Just on time,” her stepmother said to him. Snow’s eyes shot to her mother. She knew this man?

  “You know I’d never be late, milady.”

  Milady? Snow felt as if she’d been dropped into an alternate version of reality. Whatever drugs her stepmother had given her were causing her to hallucinate. That had to be the explanation, because there couldn’t be any other.

  “I have everything in the backpack,” Katarina said. “Are you sure you weren’t seen?”

  The man leveled a look at Katarina that would have caused even the bravest of men to tremble, but Katarina stood unwavering, one brow lifted as she waited for his reply.

  “Of course,” he said. He glanced at Snow and terror ripped through her. “That her?” he asked, jerking a chin in her direction.

  “Yes,” Katarina said, turning to move toward Snow. She leaned over, soothing one hand over Snow’s brow. She could barely feel it through the numbness that shrouded her. Katarina clucked sympathetically. “It’s too bad you decided to run away, Snow. Here I was trying to give you a nice surprise, and instead you used my kindness to convince me you had a migraine in order to be left alone to make your escape. And you stole a large amount of money from me. I’ve been reporting it to some of the servants, asking them if they’ve been taking it over the past month. How stunned and saddened I will be when I realize it was you taking it, hoarding it, plotting your getaway.”

  Snow tried to shake her head in denial, she opened her mouth to say no, but all that came out was some panicked sounding noises from the back of her throat.

  “Don’t worry, darling, I have plenty of people who will comfort me in my time of need. I won’t spare any expense in trying to locate you.” She glanced back toward the large man waiting patiently in the doorway. “Of course, they will never find you. Not one soul will brave the forest to search for you, not when it appears you left of your own free will.”

  Katarina turned back toward the man. “Hugo, come get her.”

  He moved forward and scooped Snow up into his arms with no effort. Small squeaks escaped from Snow. Neither of them acknowledged her.

  “You must bring me her heart,” Katarina said, and Snow’s breathing came in fast pants at the alarm that threatened to drown her. “The box is in the backpack. Don’t fail me.”

  “Have I yet?” he asked, as Katarina set the backpack on Snow’s abdomen. Snow closed her eyes, concentrating everything she had into moving, to wiggling out of his arms. Nothing, not a twitch. He carried her down the stairs and out the back door. Even if Snow had been able to scream, there would likely not be anyone who would hear her. Their sprawling property was secluded and private. No one entered without permission—other than Channy, that was, who knew how to sneak onto the property and into Snow’s room undetected.

  Channy. Snow closed her eyes, wishing with everything she had that Channy would show up and see her being carted off. Channy would know better, she’d know Snow wouldn’t run away.

  The man, Hugo, continued to carry her easily across the property. As they neared the tree line, Snow’s fear encompassed her. She knew she’d never return from the forest. Hugo would kill her, cut her heart out to satisfy the vengeance Snow had no idea Katrina harbored against her, and no one would ever know. Hugo, she had no doubt, would survive his trek. Based on his conversation with Katarina, she could only guess he’d done this kind of thing before.

  As the shadows of the trees closed around them, Snow was aware of the cold pervading the area. There weren’t any of the usual sounds associated with a forest, no birds chirping, no leaves rustling, no creatures scurrying about. Only an eerie silence.

  Hugo kept walking, endlessly it felt like. Snow wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she felt the first stirring of feeling returning to her fingers. She glanced up at Hugo, who stared intently forward. He hadn’t said one word or looked at her. Slowly, tentatively, she flexed one finger. It moved.

  She willed herself to hold completely still, to remain limp and silent as Hugo carried her and her body gradually regained feeling. If Hugo noticed a change in her, he didn’t remark on it.

  Eventually he stopped, laying her down on the ground. She remained limp, not adjusting her position at all from where he laid her. He looked down at her then. He lifted one hand and ran a thick finger down the side of her cheek. She suppressed the shudder and the overwhelming desire to shove his hand away.

  “Too bad,” he said. “You’re the prettiest one yet. It almost seems a shame to take your heart.”

  He stood and moved away from her. She looked desperately for something she could use as a weapon. The backpack Katarina had filled was next to her, having fallen off her abdomen when he put her down. She remembered Katarina saying something about a box in it . . . for her heart. Was it sturdy enough, heavy enough to cause damage?

  Hugo glanced back at her. “Now don’t you go wandering off.” He laughed at his own joke, obviously still believing her to be incapacitated. To be honest, Snow wasn’t sure how much she could move. “I have some preparations to make. Don’t want to leave your body here for the creatures to get hold of, right?”

  He moved into the trees. Snow held still, waiting until she couldn’t hear him any longer before sitting up. The world spun and she had to grab onto the log next to her to keep herself from falling back down. Once she felt like she wouldn’t pass out, she opened her backpack and looked inside.

  The box was small, about four inches cubed. It was made of some kind of polished wood, shiny and expensive looking. She opened it and glanced inside. The interior was stained with something and Snow slammed it closed. She didn’t know what the stains were, and had a feeling she didn’t want to know.

  The box was heavy, but not heavy enough that Snow could do any damage with it, particularly in her weakened state. She tossed it into the weeds and pushed herself into a standing position. Not too bad. She thought she could run if she needed to. And to save her life, she probably needed to.

  She swept up the backpack and climbed over the log. How long it would be before Hugo found her? She pushed the thought from her head. She had to concentrate on getting away, nothing else.

  She weaved between the trees walking as fast as her rubbery legs would take her, stumbling over and over but managing to stay upright. She had no idea which direction she was going and could only hope she didn’t make a circle back to the big man. She tried to hurry, without making too much of a commotion. Every step, every tree branch she pushed past seemed to echo resoundingly through the forest. Still, she couldn’t afford to slow down.

  When she heard Hugo’s yell echo through the trees she realized he’d come back and found her missing. She began running, pushing past the dizziness and weakness that pulled at her. She came into a clearing and stopped. She bent over, hands on knees, catching her breath. Standing she turned in a circle, not sure which direction she’d come from. She couldn’t stay in the clearing though. She was completely exposed. She picked a direction and stumbled into the dense trees once again. She felt as if she were being swallowed by it, wishing she could be so she could escape completely.

  Finally, unable to go on any longer, Snow dropped to the ground. She lay on her back, looking at the green canopy above her. Her legs were throbbing and shaking. She doubted she could run even if Hugo came through the trees right then.

&n
bsp; Rolling onto her side, she began crying. She couldn’t help it. How had her life come to this, running through the Neru from a man who intended to cut her heart out, at the request of her stepmother? She missed her father desperately. He’d been the light in her life, and she’d been the center of his, until Katarina came along anyway. Then everything had changed. Katarina was jealous of any attention her father gave her. Even at her young age, Snow had recognized it. But her mother had died at her birth, and so she’d been desperate for a mother figure. Katarina was the only mother she’d ever known.

  Wiping her eyes, she caught sight of what looked like a seam in the rocks in front of her. She sat up, eyes glued to the place. She stood, not moving her eyes, afraid if she did it would disappear as a mirage. She walked forward, hand in front of her. She reached out and touched the rock, crawling her fingers toward the seam.

  The seam was really a bend in the rock. She leaned forward, and saw that it formed a sort of cove behind it. A well hidden cove. With a smile, she stepped around the seam. She sat down, tucking herself into the small corner. She leaned forward and grabbed a large branch full of leaves that lay on the ground. She pulled the branch up, completely obscuring herself. With a sigh of relief, she slept.

  *****

  Snow stumbled through the trees for three days. Katarina hadn’t packed any food or water in the pack, only clothes and money. Snow managed to find a stream, and now kept it within earshot at all times. She was feeling the effects of no food on her body. She’d finally broken down and eaten some leaves yesterday, only to throw them up. She couldn’t afford to make that mistake again.

  She searched for berries, or mushrooms, or anything vaguely edible that her body wouldn’t reject. She was lightheaded, weak, and hallucinating if the little cottage she saw up ahead was any indication. Still, it could be a sign that she should go that direction, so she did. It didn’t flicker and disappear as she imagined a normal mirage would, but she supposed that was the difference between a mirage and a hallucination. She figured it would disappear as she walked through it, or at least move further away, hopefully drawing her in a good direction.

  When she slammed into the side of the cottage and fell to the ground, it took her a minute to realize what happened. It was still there, the cottage. She reached out and touched the stone wall. It was real.

  “Hello!” she called. Silence. “Hello, is anyone here?” Nothing.

  She stood and walked around the cottage, her hand on the wall. Wood shutters covered a small window. She knocked on them, but heard no response. Around the next corner she saw the door.

  “Oh please let someone be here,” she said aloud. “Or at least some food.”

  She knocked on the door, calling out “hello” repeatedly. Again no one answered. Either the cottage was abandoned or the owner wasn’t home. She twisted the knob. To her surprise, it turned beneath her hand. She pushed and the interior of the cottage stood before her.

  Entering, she saw the bowl of fruit sitting on the table and lunged forward, grabbing up a peach and devouring it, ignoring the juice that ran down her face. The peach was the best thing she’d ever eaten. As she pushed the last piece into her mouth, her stomach churned. She slapped her hand across her lips, hoping she wasn’t about to lose the peach.

  She sat on the chair, taking deep breaths, willing the fruit to stay down. After a few minutes, her stomach calmed. She picked up an apple, and took her time eating it. She found a glass in a cabinet and filled it with water, which she also drank slowly. She glanced around. Whoever lived here could use someone to wash their dishes, since they were piled high in the sink.

  She debated going back outside to wait for the owner to return. She had no idea where she was in the forest and hoped they could help her get out. After all, she did have the money Katarina had shoved into her bag. Now was as good a time as any to make a new start. She couldn’t go back home, not now, knowing Katarina intended to kill her.

  Deciding they’d obviously know she’d been inside, she decided to wait. The cottage was small, consisting of the kitchen area, a small seating area, three bedrooms that had two beds in two of them and three in the third, and one bathroom. Kind of a large family for such a small cottage, she thought.

  In one of the rooms, she sat on the edge of a bed. Maybe she’d just lie down for a minute. She was exhausted. She’d just rest for a few minutes, then go wait at the kitchen table.

  *****

  Something poked Snow in the back. She waved a hand behind her, trying to make it go away and let her sleep. It kept poking, this time accompanied by a low mumble of voices. She blinked her eyes open, confused at the sight before her. Another bed, with a rough wood wall next to it stood two feet away. What the . . .?

  She bolted upright, suddenly remembering where she was. Recalling the poke in her back, she turned around.

  A group of men stood behind her, gathered in the doorway. One of them looked very angry. He was the one holding the broom they’d been poking her with. Another one looked worried, but the rest just seemed amused. She quickly stood and they backed away a step.

  “I’m so sorry,” she began, holding her hands up in supplication. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  “What are you doing here?” the mean one demanded.

  “I . . . I was lost. I’ve been lost for a few days. I didn’t think I’d ever get out. And then I saw your cottage. I knocked but no one answered.”

  “So you just came in and made yourself at home?”

  Snow flushed. “Yes. I’m sorry, I was just so hungry.” She twisted her hands together. “I ate one of your peaches. And an apple.” When the mean one looked like he was going to say something, she said, “I haven’t eaten for three days. I can reimburse you for them.”

  They all chuckled—except the mean one. “Reimburse us?” This time one of the men who watched with amusement on his face spoke. When she nodded, he said, “For fruit we grow on our own trees?”

  Snow wasn’t sure what that meant: that she didn’t need to reimburse them since it didn’t cost them anything, or if she couldn’t reimburse them for something irreplaceable. So she just nodded again. The man laughed and pushed past the other who scowled at her. He held a hand out toward her.

  “Do you have a name?”

  She smiled and placed her hand in his, where he promptly gave it one quick, firm shake. “I’m Snow. Snow White.”

  “Welcome to our home, Snow White. I apologize that we weren’t here to welcome you properly. But now that we are, I hope you’ll join us for a proper meal.”

  Snow’s stomach growled, but she shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly—”

  “Of course you could,” he interrupted jovially. “Don’t let Grouchy scare you. His bark is worse than his bite.”

  The grumpy man growled at that, but moved back as she was led from the room.

  “I go by Blithe.” He led her to the kitchen table and sat her down. He pointed to the ornery one. “You already know Grouchy. This is Medic, Dim, Coy, Dozy, and Sneezer. Most people just refer to us as The Seven.”

  Snow smiled at each of them in turn. There were definitely seven of them. Coy looked away shyly, and Dim grinned at her so openly, she wondered if he were okay. “And I thought I had a funny name,” she said.

  Medic stepped forward, pulling a chair up next to her. He pulled bag from beneath the table and removed a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope. “Is this okay?” he asked, nodding toward the cuff. “If you’ve been wandering in the forest for three days, I’d like to check you over and make sure everything is okay.”

  Snow nodded. “So your name is Medic, and you are actually a medic?”

  He glanced at the others, who shuffled uncomfortably. “Nickname. It’s best if you don’t know our real names, Snow.”

  The way he emphasized her name indicated his disbelief that it was truly her name. She thought of assuring him it was her name, but then realized she should let them keep their delusion. She knew nothing of these
men. They seemed nice enough, but if Katarina had discovered she’d escaped, they might be willing to turn her over if they heard of a reward. Besides, she was at their mercy. She didn’t have the right to grill them about any information they didn’t want to give.

  Coy and Dozy moved into the kitchen to begin preparing dinner while Medic checked her vitals, looked in her eyes and throat, and asked her to follow his little penlight with her eyes. She covertly watched the others. When Sneezer sneezed, she had to bite her lip to stifle the laugh. All of their nicknames seemed to be appropriate.

  Coy was shy, glancing at her occasionally then quickly away, his cheeks turning pink. He was the tallest of the men, though he still didn’t stand as tall as Snow’s stepmother. He was probably only an inch or two taller than Snow’s five-foot-seven, thin with a pointy chin and large ears.

  Blithe was the shortest. He stood at least half a foot shorter than Snow. He was endlessly cheerful, and seemed to be the leader of the group. He was bald on top, with short white hair around the base of his head. He wore a rounded pair of glasses which rode on the end of his nose. Apparently he only needed them to read and otherwise peered over the top of them. Where Coy was thin, Blithe was rounded. The others’ heights all varied between Blithe and Coy.

  Grouchy sat across the table from her and Medic, watching. He had a scowl etched onto his face. He grunted with each exhalation, and Snow wondered if he even knew he did. His scruffy face was in need of a shave.

  Dozy seemed excessively tired, yawning quite often. He was clean shaven as they all were except for Grouchy. Medic was all business as he tended to her, business-like and compassionate at the same time. Sneezer sneezed again and Medic looked up.

  “Been taking the allergy medication I made you?” he asked.

  Sneezer glanced at him and away, shrugging. “Sometimes.”