But she would not be alone much longer. For the thousandth time, Fiona furthered her steps and hurried to stand at the window, peering out into the darkened depths of the tower. The courtyard was abandoned. It appeared that the almighty dragon, her winged captor, was absent. Hopefully it was far enough away for Fiona to attempt another escape; she could no longer wait. As a child, she had spent most of her nights lying awake, hoping her parents would come and get her, and apologize for not having had gotten there sooner. They never showed.
Now, at the age of thirty-five, Fiona had waited long enough. At this juncture in her life, she would rather never claim the kingdom, than continue to wait for a man to prove his worthiness by slaying the dragon. For twenty-eight years, she had bumped around the same small room, listening to the fearsome dragon vanquish the brave knights who tried to rescue her. On one frightful occasion she had watched the dragon set a knight on fire. The metal armor had begun to melt on his skin, and he had been forced to stop, drop and roll in a pointless endeavor to find relief. Fiona had watched as the dragon stomped on him. The armor had exploded off his body as he was popped like a balloon.
For twenty-eight years, she had listened to the dying screams of the bravest men. Not even the sharpest sword was enough to defeat the mighty dragon; Fiona could only rely on herself. Ripping the delicate gilded crown off her head, she crossed her chamber and flung open her door. The castle was dark as Fiona slowly and quietly descended the spiraling stairs, but the stones were illuminated when her body began to magically glow as a swirling fog began to swirl around her body. Standing on a stair, in the blackness of the shadowed stairwell, she squeezed her eyes shut as the blinding brightness burned against her eyelids. When the light faded, she opened her eyes and continued her descent, kicking sparkles down the stairs.
Coming to the window, she paused and bathed herself in the silver glow of the sunset, looking down at her enlarged green hands. Raising her ice-colored eyes she peered out into the courtyard. It still seemed abandoned; the night was still quiet.
The time was now to make her escape. Her breaths echoed softly down the passage as she continued making her way down the main chamber, her thin slippers making the lightest sound. All she was aware of was the feel of her dress, bunched up in one hand, and the feel of the stones beneath her other hand as she trailed her fingers over the rough wall.
Coming to the final stair, Fiona paused and listened intently for the faintest growl, the farthest footstep. All was silent, so Fiona stepped off the last stair and broke into a run, fleeing swiftly through the large stone room.
The eerie silence in the castle ended over the long stone bridge that connected two dilapidated towers. The lava popped and cracked loudly, and Fiona ran; trying to focus not only on faraway sounds muffled by the lava below, but also on where she was going. The bridge was narrow and had no fence, and she was in a dangerous hurry to cross. She felt a small satisfaction when she made it into the next tower, but she did not falter. She was not yet out of the woods...Of course, in this case, she wanted to get out of the tower and into the woods. At this juncture she only ran faster; surging forth without fear of toppling off the edge. It did not matter if the dragon saw her. The dragon did not want to hurt her. It only wanted to imprison her. Fiona was no longer accustomed to freedom; she would know what to expect and how to deal with being recaptured.
Fiona was less than ten feet away from the huge double doors before she slowed her brisk pace. The door creaked as she pushed it open, and she bit her lip and clenched a shaking fist as she dashed toward the long, narrow steps.
Almost there, she told herself. She wanted to jump over all the steps to the bottom, but she was not willing to risk injury and having the dragon find her laying there with busted ankles. So she descended carefully, gritting her teeth and knowing she was risking everything she had. She knew very well she might not make it out. None of the knights had.
The rickety wooden bridge was also quiet, and Fiona surged across its planks; not even caring if it collapsed and fell into the lava. She would rather die trying to escape than to spend another night in that tower.
She made it halfway, her heart hammering in her chest. Her feet were sore. Her vision was blurring with tears. And she was dizzy with exhaustion. She had not slept for fourty-eight hours; her mind had been battered with the indecision of trying another escape. And, somehow, Fiona scrambled up the bridge onto the ground on the other side and into the taste of freedom.
There she collapsed, trembling all over and blinking tears from her eyes. She sat for a moment, trying to regain her composure. Opening her eyes she sank her hands into the soft, cold earth. Dirt...She hadn't felt the dirt in twenty-eight years. She cupped it in her hands and let it trail through her fingers, and a bubble of giddy laughter escaped her lips before she began to hyperventilate. "Oh wow," she gasped, and brushed a palm over the sparkling, dewy grass.
Free...She was free! She had made it. Was she awake? She sincerely hoped so. A roar in the distance had her standing before she had ordered her feet to move, and she backed up into the shadows, trying to locate the origin of the roar. Stepping into the shadows, she hunched down and listened as the familiar noise of heavy, flapping wings grew louder, filling the air and moving the trees. Then the dragon soared past, directly overhead, swooping over the bridge and landing somewhere within the castle, disappearing from sight as the trees and the bridge stopped swaying. And the night was calm again, the air filled only with the chorus of croaking frogs.
Fiona abandoned her place in the shadows and ran deep into the forest. If her heart had not been hammering from the risk and excitement, she would have run forever. She felt liberated! She wanted to run, and play in the water.
She had made it! She wanted to scream with joy. But not a second of her freedom was worth being heard by the dragon. She chewed her bottom lip as she moved stealthily through the woods. The sunset had significantly faded, and dying pastels painted the sky in waning beauty. The moon was a faint crescent, and the cool night air felt so good on Fiona's face.
She had achieved all by herself the only dream she ever had. She had gained so much more than a kingdom, and she nearly floated down the path. Remaining ever mindful of what she was, Fiona stayed in the forest and slept in the shadows. Usually, she would dream that her tower did not exist, and was replaced by her parents' castle. The bridge was never there, and Fiona would sit on top of the magmatic rock, wondering how she would escape the castle and return home. That particular dream had haunted her for years.
Tonight, in her dreams, she took off her crown and descended the spiraling stone stairs leading to her chamber. But, when she stepped off the final stair, the dragon was waiting behind the wall, looking at her from inches away. And instead of getting anywhere near the bridge, Fiona dreamed that she turned around and walked right back up.
It was neither just a dream, nor just a fear. It had actually happened twice, on the many accounts she had tried to escape.
Fiona came awake and for a moment she froze, her eyes frantically searching her strange surroundings before she remembered that she had made it across the bridge. The sky was still dark, and the stars shone like sequins on velvet. The moon shone through the leafy branches above, decorating her in light and shadows. It was beautiful...
But Fiona really needed to alleviate herself. She stood and began the hunt for a good place to answer the call of nature. Squatting there, in the darkness, she found it safe to assume that no matter what form she was in, she would always be happier at being a princess than she would ever be at having to rough it.
When the deed was done Fiona washed her hands in the still waters of a creek, and followed the gurgling waters upstream to drink of the flowing freshness of untainted water. When she was hydrated she stood like a statue in the forest, looking around and trying to remember the survival lessons she had taken as a child. It was as she was using a rock to scrape off the wood and bark on a tree that her life was suddenly pieced together, and she realized that her parents must have known she would be locked away for years.
But...no, she had begun survival training before she had been cursed. Had they known that a witch would cast a spell on her? Fiona scraped harder as her thoughts whirled. Today, she would go to the kingdom. She would not stop until she was there. She would greet her parents, and she would ask questions.
By the time Fiona had fashioned a ring of stones, she had nine questions in mind. She dumped the assortment of wood, bark and moss into the pit and looked around for sticks; clueless that she stood no chance of ever seeing her parents again.