“Yes,” she held his hand to help her stand up. “Much better, thank you for slapping me,” she mocked him.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Axel said, “you were going crazy because of that stupid spell.”
“I think its effect is gone,” she said. “Thank you again, bro,” she kissed him on the cheek.
Axel was stoked. It was the second time she kissed him on the cheek in two days. The first was when he’d pushed Snow White’s coffin into the Schloss yesterday. He swore he’d not rub his cheek for some time, afraid the kiss’s effect would wear off.
“What are you reading?” she asked him.
“Nothing new,” he said. “All kinds of gibberish mentioned in this J.G. diary. I am on weird part which says that there is glass urn that holds the Chosen One’s redemption.”
“Whatever that means,” Fable commented. "Listen, bro. I really need you to do one more thing for me,” Fable said, her smile blossoming. She adjusted her glasses and looked nerdy, just the way Axel liked.
“Shoot, sis,” Axel said proudly. “I’m willing to do whatever you want.”
“I want you not to be mad at me,” Fable said, taking a step back.
“I could never be mad at you,” Axel said.
“Believe me, this time you might be,” Fable said.
“I could never—” suddenly, it was clear to Axel. He saw Fable run back to the purple light and walk through it.
“I am sorry, bro. I won’t be long. I’m going to save Loki, and come back,” was the last thing she said before she disappeared inside the Dream Temple.
38
A Girl with no Hands
Shew panted, her heart racing and kicking in the top of her chest as she rode away.
Cerené clung to her silently from behind, embracing her with two small arms. Shew could feel Cerené’s cheek on her back.
How could Bianca say I would not take care of her?
Shew rode through the Juniper spying eyes, the tree that wanted to shake hands, and the owls watching with wide eyes from the trees. Unlike Loki, she didn’t talk to animals. She had no Charmwill to save her. She didn’t even have supportive quirky friends like Axel and Fable. All she had was Cerené, but Cerené had saved her too many times already. It was time for her to make a stand, and protect Cerené.
She whipped her unicorn with the palm of her hand again, riding away and heading nowhere.
The Huntsmen followed, breathing heavily, hungry for her. Even their three-eyed unicorns were hungry for her.
Shew slashed at the curving tree branches and penetrated her way through. She came upon the lake of frogs again and didn’t hesitate riding through it. The first time she saw it, she thought the lake should have slowed Loki down because he would have to find a way around it. Now that she had seen him eat a frog, she knew the lake was useless. This wasn’t the old frog-fearing Loki anymore.
The lake wasn’t deep and the frogs sang to her in their croaking voice, ‘Happy birthday to you.’
Happy bloody birthday to me, Shew thought.
Suddenly they arrived at the foot of a hill and there was no way back. The only way to go was up.
“Hang on, Cerené,” she patted her hands clinging to her waist. “I’ll take care of you.”
The road up the hill wasn’t easy. Her unicorn struggled, but Shew begged it to keep on going.
“You can do it,” she whispered in its ear. “You’re no loser.”
Fear, in its most imminent manifestation, chained Shew’s soul. The worst thing about fear was the thinking. The more she thought about what could happen to her and Cerené if they were caught, the more the fear spread over her body like a crawling tattoo of Goosebumps.
“Be optimistic, Shew,” she told herself. “You can do it. Pretend you believe in the Chanta.”
No one’s helping you here, Chosen One. Her damn voice nagged her. Everyone looks up to you. They expect you to set an example, to be an idol, and an inspiration.
Shew fought the steepness of the hill, cursing the gravity that tried to pull her back down. She begged the sky to help her and pull her up the hill. Shouldn’t things like that happen in fairy tales?
“Damn all fairy tales for making me think living a real life was going to be a walk in the park,” she mumbled.
“Can you ask the moon to help you?” Shew said to Cerené, fighting her way through.
“She doesn’t want to,” Cerené said. “She says this is your moment to shine brighter than the moon!”
“Easy for you to say, hanging up there like a plate dangling happily from the sky,” she spat her words up at the moon. It seemed she’d offended someone up there because at that moment it started to rain heavily.
“Want to me to get off the unicorn and stall them?” Cerené spat rain at her.
“No!” Shew pulled Cerené’s arms tighter around her. “You don’t leave my sight. Understand?”
“I’m sure if I try harder, I can breathe fire like dragons at them,” Cerené said.
“Please, no,” she patted her hands again. When was Cerené going to realize that she wasn’t capable of creating fire like her mother? “Just stay with me, or they will eat you alive,” she told Cerené.
Shew urged the unicorn to fight its way up, “I can’t be the Chosen One. It surely is a mistake,” she mumbled. “How can I be when I’m always running away from something?” She had to run away, save herself and Cerené.
The unicorn struggled even more. The rain and snow complicated everything. The poor unicorn didn’t know whether to trot through or be cautious of slipping.
“Rain, snow, and bad weather,” Shew grunted. “Next I’m going to get a damn tsunami in my face…”
Shew’s unicorn stopped atop of the hill. Speaking of tsunamis, there was nothing on the other side but the endless Missing Mile ocean, and it was a straight shot downwards to reach it. A large wave crashed against the rocks at the bottom as Shew sat paralyzed, looking at the endless water ahead.
“This can’t be,” she said, fear taking over her completely. Cerené’s eyes bulged out, speechless as her friend. They gazed back at the waving hordes of black cloaks and unicorns closing in, and then back at the ocean.
“What are we going to do now?” Cerené asked. “You think we should just jump in the ocean?”
“We could,” Shew said. “But that doesn’t guarantee we’ll live.”
“My mother said, you’d be immortal when you turn sixteen,” Cerené said.
“I’m not sure I’m immortal yet,” Shew said. “I don’t feel immortal. Maybe I have to split my heart first or something,” she said under her breath. “Even if I were immortal, you could die, Cerené,” she said.
“It was going to happen sooner or later,” Cerené said. “I’m glad I met you before I died.”
Shew squeezed Cerené’s hand tighter, “I’m glad I met you. You taught me how to live—in a very weird way, I suppose,” she turned her unicorn around, facing her approaching killers.
“What are you doing, Joy?”
The Huntsmen were in her face, only a hundred strides away. The Huntsmen were like time, and time was the greatest serial killer in history, it always arrived, never tick too soon, or a tock to late.
Shew took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and imagined the future. She imagined passing through this moment. She imagined surpassing all the pain, crossing over to a land of lilies and singing birds where she and Cerené were playing in the field. She imagined all the beautiful things that could happen later. It helped her lift some of the moment’s weight off her shoulders.
Then she opened her eyes.
Shew felt as if she was seeing the world with new eyes, the eyes of the future. If she were to cross this very dark hour, she had to see further than the length of her sword, further than the horizon, further that what logic and physical shortcomings permitted, and further than the imaginable. It was the only way to cross this moment: to long for the prize and reward of the future.