Status: On the 14th of April 2013, I will be editing this story. Most chapters are subject to change, and some may be combined. Stay tuned for the remake.
Maleficent
The Real First Time I Met You
During a mid-spring morning was when I first met him.
He’d had longer hair back then, his chocolate locks flicking just above the nape of his neck and his silvery eyes had been more defined, glittering with flecks of emerald. The sun shone brilliantly through the cracks in the lusciously green treetops, filtering through in columns of golden light that looked as though God were brushing His fingers across the earth in a soft touch.
The forest looked like some sort of fairy tale. A strange glitter sparkled in the air, dancing with the butterflies as the birds sang a sweet melody. Moss crawled up the trunks of the trees, and coated the faces of rocks. The faint perfume of blooming flowers lingered amidst another scent that I could only describe as magical.
I’d seen him stalking a deer on this particular morning, his hunting boots padding silently against the soft forest floor. Around his shoulders was the pelt of a wolf, its head hanging at his back since he hadn’t required its warmth. In a swift fluid movement, I’d watched as the man tucked an arrow into his bow and gracefully aimed for the clueless doe.
This was where I stepped in; startling the man so effectively that he managed to scare off the deer. His knife had been drawn then, though it was too late to catch me, and instead I gave him a disapproving look.
“She is not yet ready to die,” I told the hunter. “She has yet to raise her fawn.”
As soon as I had spoken, the man’s knife dropped to his side and he stared at me in awe. Merely smiling kindly, I then offered the man a basket of woven twines, filled with the most delicious red apples. In a stunned movement, he reached for them, grasping them close to his chest as he continued to look at me with wonder.
“Take these in her stead,” I continued lightly. “They are more than enough.”
At my words, the hunter suddenly snapped out of his strange trance and looked to me with suspicion; his lips curling up at the corner. “I don’t know who you think you are,” he growled. “But this basket of apples will not get me the gold I need to put bread and cheese on the table.”
In an instant, my kind smile turned to a frown and I narrowed my eyes at the hunter. “I am Raven,” I answered tightly. “The voice of the forest of the Forbidden Mountains, and you would do well to heed my advice. Take the apples, hunter, and be thankful.” Then, with as much power as I could muster, I summoned an irresistible beauty, daring him to defy my words.
Satisfyingly, the man turned, surprising me by wedging the basket of apples into the soft ground and picking up his hunting knife instead. I tried not to notice the cocky smile on his face, or the suspicious plan hidden behind it. I just watched as the man began walking away, silently stepping through the brush, his bow and quiver at his back and his hunting knife strapped to his belt.
Just as I gave myself a mental pat on the back, the man turned. “I am Jeremy. Huntsman of the Forbidden Forest, and I wouldn’t get too cosy, little bird,” he smiled over his shoulder. “I won’t fall that easily.”
With that I froze, my eyes widening and my power snapping back to its natural wavelength. I couldn’t believe that this man had resisted my influence, and with such ease and cockiness. I couldn’t believe that he could then walk away with a threat on his tongue and a smile on his face. I knew then that this wasn’t over. I would see this man again.
“Til next time, ma petite belle Raven.”
He’d had longer hair back then, his chocolate locks flicking just above the nape of his neck and his silvery eyes had been more defined, glittering with flecks of emerald. The sun shone brilliantly through the cracks in the lusciously green treetops, filtering through in columns of golden light that looked as though God were brushing His fingers across the earth in a soft touch.
The forest looked like some sort of fairy tale. A strange glitter sparkled in the air, dancing with the butterflies as the birds sang a sweet melody. Moss crawled up the trunks of the trees, and coated the faces of rocks. The faint perfume of blooming flowers lingered amidst another scent that I could only describe as magical.
I’d seen him stalking a deer on this particular morning, his hunting boots padding silently against the soft forest floor. Around his shoulders was the pelt of a wolf, its head hanging at his back since he hadn’t required its warmth. In a swift fluid movement, I’d watched as the man tucked an arrow into his bow and gracefully aimed for the clueless doe.
This was where I stepped in; startling the man so effectively that he managed to scare off the deer. His knife had been drawn then, though it was too late to catch me, and instead I gave him a disapproving look.
“She is not yet ready to die,” I told the hunter. “She has yet to raise her fawn.”
As soon as I had spoken, the man’s knife dropped to his side and he stared at me in awe. Merely smiling kindly, I then offered the man a basket of woven twines, filled with the most delicious red apples. In a stunned movement, he reached for them, grasping them close to his chest as he continued to look at me with wonder.
“Take these in her stead,” I continued lightly. “They are more than enough.”
At my words, the hunter suddenly snapped out of his strange trance and looked to me with suspicion; his lips curling up at the corner. “I don’t know who you think you are,” he growled. “But this basket of apples will not get me the gold I need to put bread and cheese on the table.”
In an instant, my kind smile turned to a frown and I narrowed my eyes at the hunter. “I am Raven,” I answered tightly. “The voice of the forest of the Forbidden Mountains, and you would do well to heed my advice. Take the apples, hunter, and be thankful.” Then, with as much power as I could muster, I summoned an irresistible beauty, daring him to defy my words.
Satisfyingly, the man turned, surprising me by wedging the basket of apples into the soft ground and picking up his hunting knife instead. I tried not to notice the cocky smile on his face, or the suspicious plan hidden behind it. I just watched as the man began walking away, silently stepping through the brush, his bow and quiver at his back and his hunting knife strapped to his belt.
Just as I gave myself a mental pat on the back, the man turned. “I am Jeremy. Huntsman of the Forbidden Forest, and I wouldn’t get too cosy, little bird,” he smiled over his shoulder. “I won’t fall that easily.”
With that I froze, my eyes widening and my power snapping back to its natural wavelength. I couldn’t believe that this man had resisted my influence, and with such ease and cockiness. I couldn’t believe that he could then walk away with a threat on his tongue and a smile on his face. I knew then that this wasn’t over. I would see this man again.
“Til next time, ma petite belle Raven.”