Grounded: The Adventures of Rapunzel

by Megan Morrison

  They unlatched the wagon’s high door and lowered it. Jack helped Rapunzel lift their little wagon into Greve’s big one. As soon as she had clambered in after it, Jack raised and latched the door again. From the sound of his footsteps, she knew he was walking to the front of the wagon, but she couldn’t see him or Greve. The walls were too high. There was nothing to look at in the back of the wagon but wooden walls, wooden crates, and sky.

  Rapunzel cushioned the planks beneath her with Ubiquitous pillows from last night’s camp, wrapped herself up in her cloak, and lay down, looking up. The wagon clattered into motion; the horses’ hooves beat on the ground, and the wheels rolled.

  The motion of the wagon lulled her. She was sleepy, she realized, yawning. The bandits had startled them so early that she had only had a few hours’ rest. Cold air blew across her face, and she blinked in the early morning light. Overhead, white clouds swept by … then blended together … then faded to darkness as her eyelids drifted shut.

  How long she slept, she wasn’t sure, but when she woke, the sun had already passed overhead and was full in the sky. She guessed it was midafternoon. Midafternoon of the … eighth day. Rapunzel counted on her fingers and realized she was right. She had slept seven nights out of her tower. She couldn’t believe it was such a short time. If Witch had told her that she could have done so many things in just eight days, she would never have believed her.

  They helped Greve with his deliveries in a village called Methley Plum, unpacking everything from dried flowers and spices to enormous wheels of cheese from the crates. When they reconvened at Greve’s wagon, Rapunzel was carrying a parcel of iced cakes that she had purchased from the baker. She and Jack sat in the back of the wagon to eat them. Prince Frog chased down and devoured several big, spindly spiders that had been disturbed by the moving of the crates, and they were all quite content by the time Greve limped out of the butcher’s. He pocketed his jingling money pouch and crossed the cobbled street.

  “Appreciate the help,” said Greve. “We’ll be in Littleleaf by nightfall. Might be a bit late to find a room by the time we get there.”

  He was right. By the time they arrived in Littleleaf, the stars were bright violet in the deep, black sky.

  “Not a bad night for camping,” said Greve, leading the horses off the road and nearer to the trees. He went about unhitching them from the wagon.

  “You won’t fit in our tent,” said Rapunzel, “but we have extras.” She held out a Ubiquitous acorn. “Would you like one?”

  “I’ve got my own,” he said. When he had finished watering and tying up the horses, he pulled a folded tent from beneath the seat of the wagon and went about pitching it. He moved slowly, leaning on his stick as he limped from one corner of the tent to the next. Jack and Rapunzel cracked their own tent, and Rapunzel strapped on her hair again and began to build a fire. The orange flames made long, jumping shadows against the tall trees.

  “Glad to see you don’t need Ubiquitous for everything,” growled Greve, hobbling up to them once his tent was in order. He set a sack on the ground and knelt beside it, bracing a hand on the dirt. “Hungry?”

  They nodded.

  “Then find me three long sticks.”

  Rapunzel and Jack found three long, slim, sturdy branches.

  “Bought a few things in town,” Greve said as he speared a few small squares of meat on each of the three sticks. He handed the skewered meat to Rapunzel and Jack.

  They roasted their suppers. Jack didn’t say much, and Greve only looked into the fire as he ate, focused on something Rapunzel couldn’t see. When they finished eating, he threw his stick into the fire and watched it crackle into ash. Then he looked at Rapunzel.

  “You’ve got a lot of hair,” he said. His voice was startlingly low in the quiet night. Rapunzel shivered.

  “Yes,” she said. “What about it?”

  Greve studied the hair wheel, which lay on the ground beside Rapunzel. “Must’ve taken a long time to grow.”

  Rapunzel narrowed her eyes and watched him, waiting for him to say something else. Something about the Bargaining, or Witch.

  Greve got to his feet, balanced on his stick, and nodded to them both. “Sleep well” was all he said before he limped to his tent and crawled in. The flap fell shut.

  THEY traveled four days with Greve, and made enough deliveries to clear a great deal of space in the wagon. It grew colder each day as they moved farther north, and Prince Frog didn’t seem to like it. He stayed burrowed under the woolly blankets and rarely appeared, even to pounce on spiders.

  “We might get to Shagbark before nightfall,” Jack told Rapunzel. They were sitting together in the back of the wagon as they traveled. The tip of Jack’s nose was ruddy with cold, and his breath clouded in the air as he spoke. He unrolled the map so that they could trace how far they had come. “Tomorrow midday, at the latest.”

  “And then we’re nearly to Independence, and the First Wood.”

  “Nearly.”

  Rapunzel’s heart fluttered. Soon, she could go home.

  Night fell before they reached Shagbark, and they pitched camp in a moonlit valley. In the morning, light filtered into the tent. Rapunzel pushed herself up to sit and saw that Jack had gone out already. She buckled her boots, grabbed Prince Frog, and pushed open the tent flap. One shock of cold air was enough to send her scuttling for her cloak, and then she marched out into the frosty morning — and stopped short.

  Overnight, the world had exploded into color. Rapunzel stood agape, staring at trees the likes of which she had never seen. Their leaves were wide and bright — oranges, yellows, and reds as vivid as flames, each color crisp against the cold blue sky. The trees blanketed the hills that surrounded them, and Rapunzel turned in circles, awestruck. It was like the world had caught fire.

  Jack crunched up to her through some fallen leaves and stood beside her to admire the long, bright valley.

  “I wish the trees near my tower looked like this,” Rapunzel murmured. “They’re always dark green.”

  “So don’t go back,” said Jack. “Stay here, if you like it better.”

  Rapunzel marveled at the view. It was the first time she had ever believed that there might be any place she could like better.

  Greve folded his tent and limped toward the wagon.

  “We ought to pack up,” said Jack, and threw open the tent.

  They had just finished packing when a loud crash sounded from Greve’s big wagon. Both Rapunzel and Jack whirled toward it. Greve stood in the wagon bed, pinned against the remaining crates by a large plank of wood that looked as big as the wagon bottom. They dashed over to him. Jack leapt into the wagon. The plank was taller than he was, and when he pulled it toward him, it nearly sent him over backward. Rapunzel climbed up and helped him steady it; it was much heavier than it looked.

  “We’ll need to lift it,” said Greve, rubbing his right thumb, which looked purple. “I want it secured on top before it rains.”

  Rapunzel realized that the heavy wooden plank was meant to cover the top of the wagon. It had been standing on its side between the crates and the wagon wall. She hadn’t noticed it before.

  “It’s going to rain?” Jack squinted up at the morning sky. “Doesn’t look like it.”

  “I’ve made a few trips through Green in my day,” said Greve. “I know the skies.”

  They helped Greve lift the wagon cover into place, and he secured it on all sides with padlocks. When they were finished, the wagon looked like one giant crate. Rapunzel didn’t like the thought of crawling into it.

  “I want to see the trees,” she said. “Can’t I sit up front?”

  “If I turn out to be wrong about the weather, you can,” said Greve. “But if you’re soaked to the bone, you won’t be much help with deliveries. Now hop in.”

  Rapunzel and Jack fetched all their things, including Prince Frog, and packed them into the wagon. She climbed in after them with a sigh, sorry that she wouldn’t have another morning
of watching the sky fly past. She gazed again at the spectacular trees.

  “What are they called?” she asked, pointing. “The trees. I’ve never seen this kind.”

  “Maple,” said Greve. He motioned to Jack, who was still standing outside the wagon, looking at the sky. “Go on,” he said. “Let’s be on our way.”

  But Jack didn’t move.

  “Rapunzel,” he said, “get out of that wagon.”

  He said it calmly, but a chill ran through her. She came at once to the edge, remembered Prince Frog, and crawled into the wagon again to get him.

  “What’s the trouble?” Greve asked pleasantly, but somehow his face wasn’t pleasant at all.

  “This isn’t Shagbark,” said Jack. “You’ve brought us to Maple Valley, and it’s not exactly on your route. Whatever you want with us, you can forget it. Rapunzel, get out of there.”

  “I’m coming,” she said, reaching into the bundled blankets and closing her hands around Prince Frog.

  It was too late. Behind her, there were the sounds of a sudden scuffle. Jack cursed. Rapunzel spun around on her knees to see that Greve had dropped his walking stick and taken hold of Jack around the middle, pinning his arms to his sides. Jack struggled, kicking and thrashing.

  “Let him go!” cried Rapunzel, scrambling to the edge of the wagon to help.

  She wasn’t quick enough. Greve threw Jack in the back and slammed the gate into place. They heard the scrape of metal and the thunking click of a padlock being shut.

  “LET US OUT!” Jack threw himself against the wooden door. It rattled, but the wood was heavy and the locks were tight, and it gave no sign of breaking. Jack hurled himself against it again, while Rapunzel sat in the giant crate that they had helped to build, frightened and unsure of what had happened.

  “What’s Maple Valley?” she asked. “Is it bad?”

  There was the sound of a cracking whip and a loud “YAH!” from Greve. The wagon jerked into sudden motion; Rapunzel was thrown from her knees to sprawl on the wagon floor, while Jack stumbled against the locked door with a crash. There were so few crates left now that the horses were able to run, and they pulled the wagon swiftly onward.

  Jack dropped to his knees and looked up at the ceiling of wood above them. He ripped the map out of his knapsack and unrolled it.

  “Look.” He jabbed his finger at Commonwealth Green, west of the Mimicry River. There, nearly twenty leagues southwest of Shagbark, were two small, cursive words: Maple Valley.

  Rapunzel pushed herself up from the floor. “It’s where I put my finger when we played the map game!” she exclaimed. She looked from Maple Valley to Independence and measured the distance with her eyes. “Oh no … we’re farther south than we were yesterday. He took us backward….”

  “Forget that,” said Jack. “What’s he doing with us?”

  Rapunzel put the map aside and stroked Prince Frog, who looked up at her with fear in his round, golden eyes.

  “No wonder he told us we could stay back here yesterday,” Jack fumed. “He didn’t want us to see where he was headed. He must have turned west right after Hickory Hills.”

  “It’s all right,” she said to Prince Frog. “Don’t worry.”

  “Don’t worry?” Jack gave a harsh laugh. “I wonder if Greve even has a limp, or if it was just a ruse to make us comfortable.” He slammed his fists down on either side of him, making Prince Frog jump. “I can’t believe I got swindled into building my own cage.” He leapt to his feet and pounded hard on the wooden wall that separated them from the front seat of the wagon. “You know the skies, huh?” he bellowed at Greve. “What are we worth to you?”

  “Worth?” Rapunzel repeated. The skin of her neck crawled. “What do you —”

  “He’ll sell us,” said Jack, turning on her. “We’ve been kidnapped. He must have a deal with someone out this way.”

  It was a nightmare straight out of Witch’s worst warnings. Rapunzel huddled against the wagon wall and hugged herself, leaving Prince Frog to hop in a worried circle on her thigh. Witch, she thought, because she could not shout it. Witch.

  “Sell us to whom?” she whispered.

  “Anyone,” said Jack, glancing with real anxiety now at Rapunzel. “I bet there are people who’d pay a lot of money for you.”

  “For me?” Rapunzel’s voice was very small. “Why?”

  Jack didn’t answer. “Rune!” he called out, and when there came no reply from the fairy, he tried again, louder. “RUNE!” he bellowed. “Come on, I know you can hear me — help us!”

  “If he didn’t help us with the Stalker, then why would he help us now?” said Rapunzel. “He’s not allowed to kill me, but he’s not going to stop someone else from doing it.”

  Jack knelt beside her, looking grim. “No one’s getting killed, all right? We’ll get out of this.”

  The wagon pitched and rattled as they careened onward.

  “If I could call for Witch, she’d save us.”

  “She’d save you,” said Jack. “Not me. And we can save ourselves. One of us just has to think of something.”

  “But I can’t think of anything!”

  “You thought of tripping the Stalker, didn’t you? You thought of making a canopy. You won a jacks tournament and got us money too.”

  Rapunzel drew herself up a little. Hearing Jack recite her accomplishments nearly distracted her from the bleakness of their circumstance.

  “That’s true,” she said. “I did. All right, I’ll think of something.”

  They scanned the inside of the wagon. There was nothing that could help them.

  “I do have my dagger,” she said when they had rumbled along in silence for several minutes.

  “And I have my sword,” said Jack, perking up. “Let’s hack our way out.”

  They got to their feet and grabbed their weapons. Rapunzel had to hunch more than Jack did to keep from hitting her head. She tried to drive the dagger straight into the wall, but when she struck, the blow was painful to her fingers, and the blade stuck in the wood and was hard to pull out again. Jack thwacked at the sides with violent energy, but his luck was no better. The sword was too light; the wood, too dense.

  “When Greve lets us out,” said Rapunzel, yanking her dagger from the wood, “we’ll just have to attack him.”

  “He’s — stronger — than he seemed,” said Jack, thudding to the floor. He leaned against the wagon wall to catch his breath. “When he pinned my arms, I couldn’t move them at all.”

  “So we’ll cut his arms off.”

  Jack laughed, but when he looked up at her, his eyes were sober. “Don’t do anything too violent,” he warned. “Not unless there turns out to be no other way. You could get into a lot of trouble for chopping an arm off. There are laws.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, you CAN’T KIDNAP PEOPLE,” Jack shouted toward the front of the wagon.

  “Can you steal?”

  His head snapped toward her. “If you don’t get caught,” he said.

  “But it’s against the law?”

  “Letting people starve should be against the law,” Jack muttered.

  Pondering this, Rapunzel realized that she was hungry. She looked at the undelivered crates. “Is it stealing,” she asked, “to eat things that belong to someone who kidnaps you?”

  Jack raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re catching on,” he said, and he crawled toward the crates. “We should go through these anyway,” he said, pulling one toward him and opening it. “Maybe there’s something useful inside.”

  They opened every crate and ate whatever they wanted: jars of apricot and strawberry preserves, parcels of fudge, dried figs, smoked ham, and pickled garlic. There were several crates of wine as well, which Rapunzel wanted nothing to do with. But they found nothing else useful, nothing that would help them to escape. The last crates were filled with sacks of rice and dried beans.

  “We could throw a sack of rice at him when he opens the door,” said Rapunzel.


  “Or wine bottles,” said Jack.

  “Or just shove all the crates at him.”

  Jack looked quickly at her, his black eyes gleaming. “There it is,” he said. “There’s the idea.” He glanced at the front of the wagon and beckoned Rapunzel closer. She knelt at once and leaned in. “We could pack up the crates again and stack them at the back door, right against the edge. When he opens the door —”

  “We can push them over! But Jack, will it crush him?”

  “It won’t kill him,” said Jack. “But it’ll slow him down. If he really does have a limp, we’ll have plenty of time to get away. Even if he doesn’t, we’ll still have a better chance.”

  “But it’ll take so long,” said Rapunzel. “My hair, and Prince Frog, and the wagon —”

  “Let’s get ready then,” said Jack, rolling up his sleeves in spite of the cold.

  They worked swiftly together. Jack packed the crates and slid them toward the back of the wagon, where he stacked them up to the ceiling against the door. Rapunzel pocketed Prince Frog, stuffed their remaining acorns into her vest pockets, loaded whatever else would fit into Jack’s knapsack, and hefted the hair wheel onto her back. It pained her to leave the little wagon, but there might not be time to get it out.

  They had just finished their preparations when the horses’ clopping hooves lightened their rhythm and the wagon slowed. Rapunzel pressed her face to the slatted wooden side of the wagon and peered through one of the cracks.

  They were in a town — leaving a town, it looked like — and heading up a steep hill into more fantastic trees. Rapunzel watched a stretch of fiery orange and bright golden woods roll past, unbroken, for several minutes. The wagon turned left off the main road, and Greve drove them forward, in among the trees.

  The wagon stopped.

  Rapunzel and Jack took their places and braced their hands against the crates. They heard the sounds of Greve getting down from the wagon. They heard the thump of his stick and his heavy, lopsided footsteps as he came around to the back. They heard the scrape of a key in the padlock … the click of it being popped open … the creak of the back door as it was lowered …