I Hate When They Call Me Snow White

We walked until I could no longer see the Huntsman in front of me.

Only the sound of his heavy crunching feet acted as directional guide.

He never turned around to see if I was following him. Maybe he just assumed I would or most probably he could hear my heavy panting.

I tried not think about the decision I made. I didn’t regret it. I just hated that I had to make it.

I spent the entire hike thinking about the dwarfs.

Would they be angry and try to find me?

Would they understand why I left?

Would they have wished I had fought harder?

I wish I had fought harder, but in that moment all I could think about was Dopey's safety. I hoped they understood that.

The only reason I hadn't tried to fight now was simple. The Huntsman was huge. He could easily overpower me, and most obviously would in any face-to-face combat.

My only chance to freedom was to sneak away in the night...if I made it through the night.

I was too caught up in my own thoughts to notice that the footsteps in front of me had stopped.
I ran right into what felt like a brick wall.

"Oomph," I grunted, as I fell on to my butt gracefully.

The Huntsman either didn't feel the impact or didn't care to comment because all he did say was a very stoic,

"We make camp here."

I was still on the ground. Not quite sure what I was meant to do. I still couldn't see anything, but my eyes had adjusted enough so that I could make out the hulking figure of my doom.

I watched carefully as he crouched down and without hesitation struck a fire right at my feet. I looked up and was once again greeted with sight of his weathered face.

He stared at me without words or expression. He almost looked as if he was searching for something, but even he didn't know what.

Before I could even fathom a word, a loud, pained growling interrupted the silence.

I jumped in fear at the sound before clutching my stomach, slightly embarrassed.

"Here," he said suddenly.

I shivered at the timber of his voice and looked down to find him holding out a loaf of questionable looking bread.

I took it tentatively, as if he was going to chop off my hand at any moment.

"Thank you," I murmured, my voice was scratchy from not being used for so long.

He didn't respond, but simply sat back and ate his own loaf.

I wondered why he was feeding me, if he was supposed to kill me? I began to nibble on the bread, even though I felt ravenous. I could feel the loaded weight of his gaze on me and maybe it was the hunger, or the sadness of leaving my friends, or the frustration at my current state in life, but I snapped.

"Stop it," I cried out exasperatingly, glaring at him.

His expression didn't change in the slightest. Only his eyes changed with his mental question.

"My god, kill me or leave me here to die, but for all that is fair in this world, stop staring at me!"

The sudden outburst left my slightly breathless. My heart pounded heavily as I met the unwavering gaze of the man in front of me.

I watched in utter amazement as the side of his mouth twitch upwards in what had to be the world’s most dysfunctional smile.

"Do tell me, Princess, what is fair in this world?"

I felt my anger bubble, uncaring that this man was sent to cut out my heart.

"Regardless of what you choose to see in this world, there is always goodness," I paused before I continued my rant, "I have seen it in friendship and people who choose to care for you regardless of your past and circumstance. The world may not always be fair, but there is always good."

"You're saying that fairness and goodness are not always the same things," he mused, his voice as penetrating as his gaze.

"Yes, neither can be taken, but both may be rewarded."

"Who hands out these rewards?" His voice was soft and deep.

I stared at the fire in front of me. The question felt more important than the tone it was asked in would lead me to believe.

"The universe," I said, looking back up and meeting his stormy eyes.

The air around us suddenly changed. He spoke no words, but his gaze held something potent. We continued to stare at each other. I never understood when novels wrote of people who spoke with their eyes. It always seemed silly in the reality of the things, but right now my body felt warm with awareness.

"Sleep now, Princess," he said softly.

I didn't move or object to his name for me.

Part of me felt the need to rebel to his command. He seemed to sense my stubbornness.

"We have a five day journey. You'll need your rest."

Journey? I was surprised to hear this.

“Aren’t you meant…” I paused, before trudging forward, “to cut out my heart?”

His eyes scanned over my face, like they had been earlier. Forever searching.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

His simple response sent my heart in a rapid flurry. I wanted to demand more answers but instead I furrowed my brow and stared at the fire.

Neither of us spoke for a long while and even though I didn't trust the Huntsman, I felt oddly at ease with the sounds of nature around me.

The Huntsman settled down against a tree on the opposite side of the fire and pulled his hood over his head.

I struggled to think of my escape route as the smell of the fire lulled me into a sense of tranquility.

The thought of seeing my friends soon allowed to me to relax and soon I drifted off into an unwanted oblivion.