ME, CINDERELLA?(65)

The snow was beginning to fall, or had it been falling already? Her tail flickered out and brushed off a dusting of snowflakes from her pelt, the crystals hovering for a moment in the air as though they were weightless.

A high ringing tone pierced my ears, and before I could recognize the sound the arrow shot through the clearing and into the neck of the doe. The shot was true, piercing her pelt cleanly. She took one step forward and stumbled on the next, falling forward on to one knee as though kneeling before me. The sound that escaped her mouth into my ears resembled nothing so closely as a baby's cry. She stumbled and fell, shock in her eyes.

Blood pooled underneath the deer, the snow melting into a bright red pool. Her chest still rose and fell, but her breathing was shallow. Her hind leg kicked in a short spasm.

I stood, frozen in place. Steam rose from the hot pool of blood in the cold air. A chill ran down my spine. I heard the hunter’s footsteps before I could see him, and then he tramped into the clearing, his bow held to one side. His figure loomed large before me, his dark features hidden behind bushy eyebrows and a beard, but it was his eyes that made my blood run cold. For when his gaze fell upon me, it was full of a hard, mean want that I had never seen before. A realization that I was there, and alone, and there was no one around to protect me. It was a hunter's gaze, and he had his sights on new prey.

I did not stop to think. If I had I might have been lost. But there was something in this man’s eyes that drove me back as surely as Eliot's kindness had drawn me toward him. I turned and ran, my feet sliding on the slick carpet of snow just covering the grass.

I heard him behind me, and for one horrible second I thought that he might nock another arrow to his bow and shoot me down like he had the deer. I had desperation on my side, and was gaining ground, but my foot slipped just as I was crossing the small stream and a sharp pain shot up from my ankle, tearing through my entire leg and thigh muscles. I let out a shout and fell, my hands bracing my impact onto the snowy bank. My hands slipped on the icy rock and I tumbled into the shallow stream. My dress soaked through instantly with icy water and I cried out in shock as much as in pain. The chill pierced me through my skin and muscle and my lungs seized up with cold. Blood ran from several cuts on my hands as I tried to scramble up the other side of the riverbank.

He was upon me before I could scream, and as I drew a breath to do so he flipped me face up and cupped one hand roughly over my mouth, his body shoving mine down into the cold earth. I beat at his chest with my fists, and tried to claw his face with my fingers, but with his free hand he blocked my attempts easily. Blood ran down my palms and wrists and I slipped with slick red fingers as I tried to push him away.

My screams were muffled by his palm. He was suffocating me, his weight pressing on my chest. His free hand moved to unbuckle his belt, leaning forward. I reached out to get at his eyes but he grabbed my wrists and wrenched them above my head, pinning them brutally against the snow. He leaned forward, his eyes like black coals flecked with burning white embers at the edges. I closed my eyes to hide myself from his expression: he was smiling.

Above us in the trees, the wind howled. I thrashed underneath him, my legs sweeping the snow, but I was no match for his size. His breath was hot, the steam filling the air white above my face. It smelled sour, like old coffee, and my heart raced.

I felt something then, something I have never been able to fully explain. The sense that Eliot was watching me came over me. It felt like the sun’s rays bursting through the snowy branches in the morning, the warmth of the day now starting to creep into my chilled skin. I knew he could tell that I was in danger, and I knew he would be there to save me.

This strange feeling of trust that flooded my body made me relax, and the man above me pulled my wrists up tighter, but I did not feel the pain. Drawn back into myself, drawn further away from agony, I felt at peace, like I was hovering above myself, watching a terrible scene unfold that involved some other person. Watching terrible things happen to some character from a legend, and not me at all.





Eliot flew over me in a blur. The heavy shock of his impact made a resounding thud as it knocked the hunter off, and when the two men crashed into the tree next to me snow tumbled down from the shaken branches. I pushed myself sideways, out of the man’s reach. One of my shoes had been knocked off and the toes were white with cold.

Fists flew, and I saw the hunter reach back with one large hairy fist. Before I could scream, Eliot had butted his head into the man’s chin with a sharp crack that might have been tooth or bone or both. I felt dizzy at the sound, faint. It was as though my entire body had been drained of blood.