“What good is it being grateful?” Another Rapunzel yelled at her, trying to eat her foot. “We’re from hell!”
“Nice to meet you,” Shew mumbled, having planted plenty of them already. “Now do your job well and bite all those huntsmen and unicorns’ feet or legs or whatever it is that you do.” She jumped back on her unicorn and rode away, following the butterfly to the cottage.
She could hear the huntsmen’s unicorns tumble and moan behind her as she sped farther into the forest. This should keep them away from her for a while.
Deeper beyond the trees, the Black Forest became much darker. Thick and curvy Juniper trees moved over her head, almost blocking all light from the sky, except a tiny moonbeam sneaking through.
“Hey!” Shew shouted, waving at the moon behind the trees. “Are you really a girl? Could you help me? I know you might have something to do with the Lost Seven.”
The moon didn’t reply, nor smile.
“Of course,” Shew mumbled, riding along. “Who am I to get an answer from you? Only Cerené does.”
Deeper and deeper into the forest, Shew saw large golden fireflies, giving way with their glowing light. Then the butterfly stopped again. Shew pulled her unicorn to a halt.
“What is it now?” Shew asked. “Are you lost?”
The butterfly wasn’t lost. It was dying. Shew watched it dim and harden into a black piece of ashen glass then drop like a stone.
She watched it, speechless, as the world around her in the forest seemed to squeeze her with its darkness. She got off her unicorn and patted it for assurance.
“It’s going to be alright,” she whispered.
Looking beyond the wavering dark, Shew saw pairs of red oval eyes staring back at her. She pretended she hadn’t seen them. She was only worried how she’d find the cottage now.
The light from the fireflies turned out to be helpful. Shew walked carefully over the mushy ground underneath her, stepping over stones for safety. There were hissing sounds all around her, and she wondered if they were animals or ghosts. She drew out her fangs in hopes to scare whatever meant her harm.
“Happy birthday to me,” she muttered.
Shew’s voice made her feel a bit safer. Foolishly, she decided to sing a birthday song to herself, pulling her unicorn along. She rested the leaf of caterpillars on a thick branch filled with other caterpillars and cocoons. It seemed like a safe place.
“You’re much safer here,” she told them. “The huntsmen could find me and kill me any moment.”
She came across a small lake filled with frogs. They jumped out on the lake’s edge, croaking. She suspected they liked her birthday song, but listening carefully, she learned they were singing with her.
“Loki is right to hate your croaking,” Shew mumbled but didn’t mind their company.
As she rode deeper and deeper into the forest, she began feeling safer. She hadn’t found the cottage, and assumed the huntsmen had lost their way after whatever evil the Rapunzel plants bestowed on them. She still marked some trees on her way as she hummed her little birthday song.
Eventually, she came upon a spot in the forest rich with enough moonlight as if someone had drilled a hole of white light through the thickness of the trees above.
Then … everything froze to the sound of a pair of clapping hands.
Shew turned around and saw the red eyes had disappeared. The tree branches had stretched back as far as possible, and the fireflies hid in their shade.
Before Shew could catch her breath or question anything, a silhouette of a boy appeared under the light of the moon. It was if he were the center stage of the evening in the forest. He walked confidently toward her, slowly like a panther watching his prey. Then he stopped and leaned his shoulder against a tree, clapping again.
“One more time, please,” Loki said, waving his hands theatrically in the air. He looked like Loki but smelled like a monster; a cute, arrogant, and wicked one. He had his hood pulled back, his beautifully deceiving platinum blonde hair dangling down his shoulders, “sing it one more time, but with feeling,” he smirked.
35
A Wit of Swords
Shew’s unicorn took a couple of strides back.
“Loki,” Shew whispered to herself with longing. Unlike her unicorn, Shew took a foolish step ahead, then her brain took over and she stopped. Her heart was yearning for Loki, but she had to find a way to resist his charm. This wasn’t the Loki from the World Between Dreams.
“Please don’t hurt me,” Shew said, buying time until she decided what to do.
“Love hurts, princess,” he titled his head and flashed his irresistible smile.
“So you remember loving me?” Shew wondered aloud.
“Of course,” he said. “Not,” he added. “I know you like me, princess. Always did. I don’t blame you. What’s not to like about me,” he asked nonchalantly as he chewed on a dead Rapunzel plant.
“You found me because of my singing,” Shew blamed herself.
“Beautiful voice you have, princess,” Loki leaned back against a tree, sniffing the Rapunzel plant. “Wrong song. Nothing’s going to happy about your birthday.”
“You’re right about that,” Shew agreed, her eyes looking for an escape. “You know this is a dream, right?” she stalled again, hoping he’d remember.
Loki said nothing, and began trimming his fingernails with his knife.
“Believe me, Loki,” she pleaded. “We’re both stuck in a dream, and we can only wake up if one if one of us kills the other,” she almost bit her tongue. The last words were agonizing. She shouldn’t have told him that.
“Now that’s interesting,” he puffed air at his nails. “Would you want to have the privilege of trying to kill me first?”
“Argh,” Shew thought. It was useless conversing with him, “you are not you who you think you are. Are you even listening to me?”
“Here is my advice to you, Princess of Sorrow,” he gazed back at her. “You’re much more fun when you’re silent. Now how do you prefer to die?”
Slowly, Loki walked closer to her. He stopped midway, his eyes scanning her face. For a moment, she thought he remembered her, or at least sensed something was wrong. Then his stare intensified again, and sent a chill through her spine. It was almost as scary as the Queen’s eyes when she got angry.
Shew didn’t know what to do. She had no Rapunzel plants and no magic. Had she tried to run away, he’d have caught her. She’d seen him killing in Furry Tell. He was fast and merciless.
“What are you looking at?” She sneered at him, pretending she wasn’t afraid. She made sure she straightened her back and held her chin up.
“It’s a shame I have to put such a beauty to sleep,” he said, rubbing the tip of his sword gently on her face. It didn’t sound as sincere as she’d hoped. Shew pushed his sword away and he did not resist.
The situation drove Shew crazy. Looking at him weakened her. She would have preferred an ugly enemy she could just kill without thinking. Loki’s charm was disarming.
Loki kept approaching slowly. Like the Queen, he took his time with his prey. He knew he’d win in the end.
In her defense, Shew took a huge chance. She walked over to him and slapped him on the face, “behave when you talk to me. I am your princess,” she said lamely, trying to pose like her mother. “Kneel before me, Huntsman.”
Foolish! Damn foolish. What’s wrong with you?
Loki took the slap then wiped it off his cheek as if it were a spit. He gazed back at her, admiration sparkling in his eyes, “Tsk Tsk,” he wiggled his forefinger, staring at her lips. “Not a smart move.”