It had always been packed, the satchel, just as a precaution. Gothel had given her an impressive array of books illustrating the demise of some kingdom or other, and being the paranoid freak she was, Rapunzel had taken her own measures. Still, it wasn't a great way to live; all the things she found most important were in there. She made do with what she had out and kept the satchel hidden until that day when it proved useful or useless.

Rapunzel got the feeling she was a bird perched on the outermost branch of a tree; comfortable enough, maybe, but always ready to flit away if she heard a twig snap.

The twig had snapped. Corona was a superstitious kingdom, and hair turning brown (the color of dead leaves, she thought) would certainly set them off. Already she heard the crowd: rumbling, rioting, unrested. They wanted a logical, easy-on-their-mind explanation, now.

Rapunzel wondered who would give it to them as she slung on a sturdy pair of boots over her just-applied leggings. Slipping a loose, camouflaging tunic over her head, she checked the mirror. She certainly didn't look like the princess anymore. Her ceremonial tiara was lying on the crisply made bed, looking like a glistening pile of broken knives.

It was only adrenaline that was making her so figurative today, she reasoned. Normally she would have only been thinking of her posture. Get over it, Rapunzel berated herself. Necessary medicine, for you and them. Time to go.

Only one last look was necessary; the room had been the same for so long that Rapunzel doubted she'd ever forget what it looked like. It would last the rest of her life, though. She let her eyes dwell on a long, sweeping gaze, taking in the little stool she'd sat on to sing for Gothel for all these years, the mirror set at Gothel's eye level, the nubs of candles she'd burned to quicks. Her room was lonely and all she'd ever known. Rapunzel laughed, perhaps a little bitterly, at what that said for her.

Before running out to the kitchen, the only room in the wing facing the town-side of the castle, Rapunzel checked her reflection. Her eyes were much more defined now that they weren't dwarfed by her enormous hair. The hair. Rapunzel wondered what would become of it; it would be difficult to dispose of. She knew how heavy it was.

On the bright side, you would have to be looking for a doppelganger to recognize Rapunzel for herself. The trick now would just be getting out of town without seeming suspicious.

The runaway thought quickly. Had she packed a weapon? She didn't think so. Might as well make do, she decided, pulling the first thing she could find- a frying pan- off the wall and nestling it tightly into the bag.

Hopping out a high-set window (and holding her breath, terrified, the whole way down), Rapunzel left a regimen of fear and expectations behind, swapping it for an undetermined future.

…

It won't be that bad, eh? Rapunzel conversed with herself as she adjusted the strap of her heavy bag and padded silently across the sixth or seventh dirt path of the day. The boots had proven to be an excellent decision; their leather was supple and bounced back with each nerve-tightened step. Without them, Rapunzel figured she wouldn't have even lasted past lunch before losing her nerve and turning back. The sun was just setting, marking what would probably be the end of her sojourn for the day. No need to waste all her energies at once.

Corona was well behind her, and carriages were far less frequent than they had been just two, three hours ago. It was genuine wilderness out here now. There was probably no hope for any return- not that she wanted to go back, nor that a passerby would trust a petite teenager with a scrubby haircut and an oversized tunic.

How far she'd gone, she wasn't sure. Never in her life had she been outside the castle; Rapunzel wasn't sure if she'd even covered all the grounds. She figured it was more than two miles, but past that she didn't know.

Her lack of knowledge could prove to be dangerous. Already Rapunzel had slipped and fallen down a hill, had a mild run-in with a feisty raccoon, and, worst of all, accidentally dumped out the contents of her cantine. She would need water soon, and the oats in her bag wouldn't last long.

Just a bit further, she prodded. Continue on till the sun went down, that's what she would do, and then hunker down wherever she was when she couldn't see. It would work, so long as her depleted eyesight didn't interfere with the trek.

…

Sunlight left swiftly and completely, within half an hour, by the princess's reckoning. Finding herself by a hollowed-out rock formation, she sat down cross-legged just inside its entrance- how funny, she realized! The first time in months she'd sat down cross-legged!- and opened up the satchel. She needed to take inventory before she went on tomorrow.

A huge bag of grains and oats was first out. Rapunzel was pleased to see that she hadn't depleted it too badly. Then a book of matches, two or three candles, a few sticks of charcoal, a sketchbook, some bandages, and the pan. It wasn't substantial, she realized, but it would do until she could find some extra supplies, a river, a village out of the way.

She stuffed the objects back in the satchel and stuffed it into one of the deeper crevices. It occurred to her that she hadn't checked the other side of the formation. As luck would have it, it was covered by a curtain of green leaves. Moonlight struck it in patches, illuminating veins and poking through ant-chewed holes. Rapunzel's curiosity was getting the best of her. She sighed and lifted the satchel back onto her shoulder; no way would she leave it behind.

Pushing aside the greenery, Rapunzel took in the moonlit scene, as vibrant and perfect as if it was torn from a nursery rhyme. A green, green meadow, a babbling blue stream, and a pale white tower.

…

Hey! I can't believe so many of you have taken the time to read WHBL so far (it might not seem like a lot to you, but I never expected this!)! That's crazy! I just started this to hash out an idea and thought it would never be seen by anyone. I promise to keep posting as frequently as I can, okay? Thank you so much!

-Hannah