As the huntsman walked through the woods he did not think too much of the task at hand. He was to kill Snow White, the queen's stepdaughter, for she had become a threat to the queen and thus the kingdom. He was tracking Snow White through the dark woods, for she had fled earlier the same day. She did not know her way around the woods like he did, and he knew that he would soon find her. She had left a visible trail of foot prints, broken twigs, and fallen leafs, which would only make his task so much easier.
He was a simple but dark minded man, who found pride in hunting, providing food for the village and sometimes the castle. He knew Snow White only by name, and saw it as an honour that the queen had chosen him for the mission. He had never returned empty-handed. He knew she must be close by now, for the footprint he had just found seemed fresh. He was climbing up a small hill and carefully watching his steps as to not make noise. When he reached the top of the hill he could see Snow White walking slowly away, her back turned to him. She had not noticed him. Yet.
When he was about 50 feet away from her, he finally started to run. She heard the noise now, and turned around quickly. A second passed before she also broke into a run and fled from him. She could hear him getting closer, but did not dare to look back. Suddenly she could see him out of the corner of her eye, and as she turned her head in surprise he leaped and pushed her against a large tree.
She struggled to free herself, but did not succeed. He looked down at her. Why the queen saw her as a threat he did not know, she was only a young woman. "Let go of me" she cried out. He squinted his eyes at her. Was this a test to see if he was loyal to the queen? "We both know I can't do that" he said in a deep voice. The dark shadow was seeping into his mind. She struggled again, but he held her back easily. "I have orders to kill you, to bring your heart to the queen". Her eyes widened. She could hear the straightforwardness in his voice, she was nothing but a mere pray to him, a deer or a boar, which he had to hunt and kill. Now she struggled even more, she did not wish to die. She kicked out and hit him in the shin. His grip loosened as he yelped in pain, and she saw her chance. She ducked under his arm and ran away from him, but she did not get far before he caught up with her. This time he sprang and they both fell over, landing on the cold ground. He quickly got a hold of her as she tried to climb away. He shoved her back into the ground and sat himself on top of her with a knee on either side of her hips. She tried to sit up, but his hand went to her shoulder where it held her down.
"No more funny business" he said curtly. She looked at him with anger in her eyes. He looked as if his thoughts were elsewhere. "Hmm. Usually, all I have to do is fire an arrow and the pray will die on its own, but this is different." He looked at her at if contemplating in which manner to kill her. "Please…" she tried. He snorted. "And usually the deer don't talk". His hands went to her throat and tightened around it. She could see that his eyes were completely dark. "It would probably be easiest to simply strangle, and then remove the heart" he said more to himself than to her. She felt her lungs beginning to burn and ache for air. She gasped but no air came. Now he looked down, and as he saw that she was still alive and gasping he suddenly stopped. He removed his hands and looked at her while she was drawing in huge gulps of air, coughing at the same time. He noticed the red spots on her neck and chest and it gave him another idea. "What if…" he mumbled as he turned to fiddle with something attached to his belt. She had regained her breath and saw him occupied with his pocket. She tried to push herself away from him by shoving at his knees by her sides. But of course he was too heavy to have so easily removed. His attention focused on her once more, but he did not seem irritated at her attempt. He had a strange glimpse in his eyes as he removed his knife from its sheath. She screamed now, but no one heard her, for the woods were as deserted as ever. He put his left hand over her mouth, not because he thought someone would hear her, but because it was disturbing him. The animals he usually hunted never made noise, and he loved the peace and quiet of the woods. "Now, this is really an interesting opportunity" he mused to himself again. "To carve out the heart while it is still beating." Her scream subsided; she was too terrified to even move. His hands moved towards her chest where her heart pounded louder than ever. His hands where dirty from fighting her to the ground, and they left a trail of dirt across her chest. The knife shined beautifully golden as he held it up. It dipped down and she closed her eyes thinking that this would be the end of her life. Instead she heard the laces of her bodice being cut with the knife and she felt the fabric loosen.
The huntsman carefully pushed the bodice out of the way and held the knife to her heart. She felt the cold blade linger on her skin, piercing it now, but there was only a shallow pain. She fought herself to avoid fainting. He looked at her now. Her chest was light as ivory, and not smeared with dirt like her neck and collarbone from where he had held her down. He looked at the white skin and how it easily gave in to the blade. How a small drop of blood collected where the knife rested. Suddenly the dark shadow vanished from his mind and he immediately dropped the knife and moved his hand to wipe the blood away, but then hesitated as he saw his dirty fingers, and the pattern they had already left on her neck. Her eyes where still closed and she held her breath, not aware that he had dropped his weapon. He grasped his head in his hands as it dawned on him what he had been about to do.
She opened her eyes slowly, taking in the man on top of her, and how he hid his face. She hesitated shortly, and then slowly reached her hand out to touch his cheek. He jumped in surprise and shoved her hand away from him. "Why…?" she tried to speak, but did not know what to ask him. She did not want him to kill her, but was confused as to why he had suddenly stopped. Her eyes searched his face for an answer and she saw remorse written in his eyes. "Forgive me" he said as he picked up the knife, she winced in fear, but he put it back in its sheath. "I cannot do what the queen has asked of me" he said. He moved off of her and dropped down on the leafy ground next to her, holding his head in his hands. She sat up slowly, and felt the drop of blood run from the wound and down to the fabric of her dress. With shaky hands she tried to gather her dress, but the laces had been cut. He noticed her trouble and pulled the lace from his shirt out and gave it to her. She muttered a quiet "thank you" and tied the bodice together with the dark piece of string.