Gretel wouldn't die in the Waking World if Loki killed her here because it wasn’t her dream, Shew thought as she walked slowly. Only if someone dies in their own dream, they die in the real world. She wasn't sure she was right about that, though.
"I can't let that happen," Shew muttered. "I have to save this girl."
"You know her? Is she your friend, like me?" Cerené asked.
“Yes,” Shew said, ready to get on the horse.
“Then let me come with you,” Cerené said. “I can help. I’ll fight with my blowpipe.”
Before Shew was able to consider Cerené, one of the huntsmen saw her and Cerené. He stood staring at them, his face hidden under the hood, from afar. Strangely enough, he didn’t tell the others about Cerené and Shew. He walked slowly toward them without saying a word.
“Who is that man?” Cerené said, aiming her blowpipe like a sword. “It’s times like these when I wish I could spit fire, just like a dragon.”
“It’s the man who’s been chasing me,” Shew was about to shriek, “the one who pursued me every where, in the Wall of Thorns and in my room in the castle.”
“What are you talking about?” Cerené said.
“It’s my pursuer, Cerené,” Shew said. “I think it could be your mother.”
“My mother? That’s impossible,” Cerené objected. “You’re mistaken. Why would Bianca hunt you?”
Her stalker was close now. There were no yellow glinting eyes showing from beneath his hood like the others, though. His silence and confidence was alarming.
Shew was going to get on the horse, pull Cerené up with her and then escape. But she unexpectedly realized she wasn’t afraid of the person following her. It was an unexplainable feeling. She was actually curious to know who it was.
Could it be Loki? Could it be that the other Huntsman isn’t Loki?
Fable’s voice, cursing Loki, brought Shew back to her senses. There was no time for curiosities. She had to fight and save Fable from Loki. Shew snarled with her fangs at her hunter.
“The Huntsmen are stronger than you,” the hunter said, now close enough to talk. The mysterious individual turned out to be a girl. But it wasn’t Bianca because she sounded too young and Cerené didn’t recognize her voice. “The only way to save Fable is tell Cerené to run as far as she can, out of your sight.”
“Who’s Fable?” Cerené said. “And who are you?” she snapped at the girl in the black cloak.
“How will that save Fable?” Shew coped, having no time to ask who the tracker was. If a person, especially a girl, knew Fable wasn’t from this world, she thought she’d trust her. Was it Charmwill Glimmer?
Charmwill is not a girl, Shew! You’re losing it.
“Think about it,” the girl dressed in black said. “Every time Cerené runs away from you, the dream shifts. When she left your room in the castle, the dream shifted to Oddly Tune’s scene. When you upset her and she ran out of the Field of Dreams, the dream shifted and you woke up in your bedroom.”
“What dream?” Cerené questioned.
“I know you’ve been questioning who’s controlling this dream,” the pursuer said. “It’s Cinderella. Cerené, the Phoenix.”
“How do you know my name?” Cerené tiptoed with anger. “Only my mother called me Cinderella? How do you know?”
“If Cerené runs out of your sight now, the dream will shift and Loki won’t kill Fable,” the pursuer said, ignoring Cerené. “Now please tell her to run. She will only listen to you.”
“Run,” Shew told Cerené. It was an impulsive move, but she wanted to save Fable. In truth, and although she knew Fable cherished her, she wasn’t really saving Fable. She was saving Loki from the aftermath of killing Fable in the Dreamworld—that’s if she ever managed to get his Fleece back.
“You believe her?” Cerené said. “She’s a liar—”
“Run!” Shew snarled at her. “Please!”
“I will see you later, right?” Cerené asked.
“Of course, and we’ll make more Art,” Shew tried to be as calm as possible. Fable was already screaming in the back.
Cerené, still clinging to her blowpipe ran as fast as she could.
Shew saw her disappear in the dark, staring at the covert new comer and hoping she was not lying to her.
The cloaked girl was right. She began feeling a bit dizzy, and considered a sign that the dream would shift soon.
But before that happened, Shew asked the girl one last thing, “who are you?”
“My name is Alice,” the girl pulled the hood back. “Alice Wilhelm Carl Grimm. I was sent here by Wilhelm.”
24
A Slash from the Past
“Fable!” Axel screamed and ran toward his sister as she had suddenly collapsed on the floor.
“What’s wrong with you, sis?” Axel pulled her up into his arms, holding her tightly. Like usual, he tried CPR with her, still convinced he was good at it, but she was breathing, just not responding well. Her eyes turned half-white and then she began shivering.
Axel slapped her on the cheek a couple of times, all the while apologizing for it being too hard. He offered her Sticky Sweet Bones, trying to force them into her mouth, thinking she fainted from lack of eating. For a moment he even blamed himself for eating too much and leaving too little for her to eat.
“How many times have I told you that you were too skinny?” Axel was about to cry. “You never listen to me. What’s wrong, Fable? Answer me.”
Fable, still shivering, was hallucinating and saying something Axel couldn’t understand. All kinds of ideas popped in his head at once. Should he pull his sister out of the Schloss and get her to a hospital? But how could he? The Black Forest was too far away from the hospital to carry her the whole way, and although Carmen was just outside, she only worked when Loki drove her.
“OK,” Axel inhaled deeply. “I get it. You’re trying to worry me so I will confess to deleting the part in Loki’s Dreamhunter Guide about how to unlock the dream. If you wake up, I promise I will tell you everything,” he pleaded.
Fable was still shivering, mumbling undecipherable worlds.
“Please Fable, please!” Axel said. “All right, I’ll tell you what was written in Loki’s phone. The only way to unlock the dream is to—”
Suddenly, Fable gripped Axel’s arm so hard it whitened around her fingers. She tilted her head toward him and looked at him with white eyes as if possessed by a demon.
"Get your hands off me," she bellowed as if Axel was standing a great distance from her.
“What’s going on, sis?” Axel cried. “What’s happening to you,” he gazed sideways at the purple light, and saw it was throbbing with a bluish tint. “I bet it’s all because you’ve been too close to that stupid light. I told you not to stay close, sis. When will you ever listen to me? When will you ever learn that I love you more than anything?”
Fable’s neck twisted backwards as if someone had pulled her hair. This time, she looked like she needed his help, hanging onto him. The color of her eyes changed to a bluish purple, the color of the Dream Temple’s protective light.
"Get your hands off me," she repeated. She sounded weakened and hurt then she uttered other incoherent words about a little boy, a little girl, and a Huntsman.
“What are you saying, sis? I don’t understand!” Axel held her tighter, unable to understand what was happening. He noticed Fable was bleeding from her shoulder as if some invisible force had punctured it with the tip of a knife.
Finally, she uttered a coherent sentence, but he didn’t know what it meant. At least the words were understandable, "You're the Queen's bastard!" Fable howled in outrage. “Get out of Furry Tell,” she added in one last breath before her head and arms fell back.