The Dangerous Path didn’t look very dangerous – at least not in the beginning. It was a twisting, narrow, cobbled road, surrounded by prickly bushes and bare trees. Rebecca shivered. It had become quite cold and gray. The small spikes in the soles of her dancing shoes made a metallic, tinkering sound, like ants in boots marching to battle. The princess had never seen slippers with spikes before. They did not seem very ballerina-like, but she hoped Grand Master #39 knew what he was doing when he suggested wearing them. A sudden rush of air puffed-up her skirt. A clap of thunder roared over the princess’ head, as a lightning bolt hit one of the trees nearby and split it in two.
Rebecca hurried, trying to get away from the sharp rain drops falling over her like icy needles, but there was no place to escape to. The bushes along the road had become thick vines with jagged thorns gleaming like daggers. Another bolt struck the ground next to her, making her fall to her knees. The path had broken now into irregular slabs, floating here and there over thick, bubbling mud. The rain was blinding the princess with a curtain of water. Fresh lightning made another tree splinter into hundreds of pieces; the wind scattered chunks around, some of them striking Princess Rebecca’s back, arms and legs. Rebecca’s hands sank in the mud, as she crawled away from the punishing wind.
Something stuck to her hand, something slimy and formless, tugging her down to a bottomless pit, and Princess Rebecca realized that the mud was actually quicksand. Rebecca sat back and used all her strength to unchain her arm. The princess dug her heels into the cobbled road and held on to a prickly vine, pulling, pulling, in spite of the pain and the blood, until she freed herself from the quicksand’s grasp. Rebecca braced herself, her head between her arms. There were drops running down her cheeks and she was unsure if she was crying or if it was just the rain pouring over her face.
Then she heard it. A booming, rolling growl, the sound a hungry beast would make as it was about to pounce on its prey. Princess Rebecca looked back slowly, very slowly, not really wanting to see what was there. Her mouth went dry; her heart skipped a beat. A huge, giant, colossal tornado was hovering at the gate, bending it in half, as it stabbed the land and made fountains out of the mud. For an instant, Rebecca did nothing. Then she felt the hot tingling of her wounded hand and scrambled to her feet. She had had enough of this, Rebecca decided – and then ran towards the tornado.
About eight meters into her race, Rebecca stopped and turned around. If she was going to this, she needed a run-up of sorts. The tornado seemed to grow by the minute, as it got nearer and nearer. Princess Rebecca breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, as she hummed to herself the melody she had been practising to with Mrs. Marshall, her dance teacher. She saw the dance studio in her mind: the smooth wooden floor, the tall mirrors. The music in her grew louder and louder as she sprinted back to the edge of the broken path. Her legs seemed to grow longer, her feet hardly touching the cobbles, her ears deaf to the howl of the tornado after her. She could do this. She may be just eleven; her body may not be strong enough or nimble enough, but she was a dancer, the best dancer in the whole wide world, here, in the inside, and she, Rebecca Louise Constanza, Princess of Tandara, would do this and she would do it now!
Rebecca jumped from the edge of the path to the first slate on the right, then the next one on the left, and then the following one, virtually flying over the treacherous quicksand. Her legs stretched out into a beautiful arch; her pointy toes guided her lithe body; her arms floated in the air, as the wispy wings of a butterfly, the spikes of her silvery slippers hanging on to every little nook and cranny over the slates. If there were monster tornadoes or piercing storms behind her, she no longer knew nor cared. All she could see were the slates, glowing with pearly light, showing her the way out. When her dancing shoes finally touched the soft grass and she heard the third gate close behind her, Rebecca knew that, for now, she was safe.
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The Four Charms -a fairy tale of inner wisdom Page 3