The woods were seeped in the sound of heavy rain and leaves, in all shades of brown and orange and grey, limp and rustling in the wind.
But below the high grey sky and under the autumn canopy, another sound was working its way through the trees. Firs bristled as something pushed through them. Fabric caught and tore on bare branches. Boots landed, over and over, fast and hard against the muddy forest floor.
Snow White was running.
She ran, grabbing at tree stumps and boulders to keep from slipping. Each breath came as a visible puff of hot air. Rain soaked into her once white cloak until the water dripped over her hood to land against flushed cheeks or on the ends of matted dark hair.
The Queen's men were still a ways behind her. Their black armor was heavy and slowed them in their chase, not made for pursuits into the forest especially when slick with rain.
Still, Snow could hear them. Three at least. The steel joints at their knees and shoulders were loud and clanking even through the din of the wind and rainfall.
Daring a look back, Snow twisted to see how close they were. But she moved a little too much, a little too quickly, and suddenly found herself falling.
Landing hard on her back, a sludge of pine needles and wet leaves slid her deeper into the forest, back towards the knights and the cold scanning eyes peering out from under their black helms.
Clambering Snow grasped at roots and rocks to pull herself up. But the sound of the rain grew distant as the clink of armor and the heavy tread of steel boots grew closer. And though she was quick, her head start was fast vanishing, and her dress and cloak were more suited to summer walks in the woods than to running.
Yet since summer that was all she had done.
Frantic, Snow looked around, hood dropping away from her face. Just to her left was a cluster of bushes and fallen trees. It offered little cover. Yet she could not hope to outpace her pursuers now. So, leaving as few prints in the wet earth as she could, she ducked under the thicket and held her breath.
It was deeper than it seemed. The ground dropped and gave way to small divot, a ditch. Crouching, she watched through the twisted branches and clusters of small brown leaves. Her heart beat fast and loud in her chest.
And not for the first time, she wished that the huntsman would have taken it from her. For it had done nothing but ache in months since.
The months since her father's death, his murder. The months since her home was lost. The months since-
There was a sudden shout. The guards were close. Snow could see their black armor moving like shadows against the knotted bark of the forest.
Clasping a hand over her mouth, she tried to stop herself trembling, from crying out…from begging them to take her home.
But Regina had sent her away. Out of her kingdom, her castle, her life. She had sent Snow White off to die as if hate was the only thing that had ever lived between them. As if they had never smiled at one another. As if they had never laughed. As if their hands had never touched and made them both bashful at the contact.
As if they had never-
One of the knights kneeled, examining tracks in the mud. Hand still covering her mouth, Snow closed her eyes and said a quiet prayer. A single tear fell and traced over the curve of her cheek.
Tense moments passed as she listened, eyes shut, to the shuffling of The Queen's men only yards away. But when she opened her eyes, sure she would be looking down the point of a sword, they were standing and walking off.
And with their backs to her, the black armor and the sounds of it clanking growing smaller and quieter, the forest breathed again.
The drizzle of rain was back, and Snow's breathing slowed and evened.
Still, she remained hunched under the thicket, waiting. It was only when the sky had changed from grey to dark blue - the first stars of the evening just peaking their pale light through the trees overhead - that she crawled out.
Coming through on the opposite side of where she had come in, Snow White stood and found herself facing a new part of the forest. A part that that had been thinned and cleared in places to make space for a small village.
Still well within the darkness of the forest, Snow could see the shapes of many houses through the trees. Their windows glowed with warm light, and their chimneys smoked - sending curls of grey up into the early evening sky.
It had been so long since she sat near a proper fire.
And though she was only watching from a distance, too far to hear anything, it seemed that the sound of laughter and ale being poured and feet tapping on dirt floors carried to her anyway.
She swallowed a growing tightness in her chest.
But Snow White did not go down into the village. Not to eat or drink or sit by the hearth and rest.
Because there was no rest for her.
She had run beyond the wooded mountains of her youth, beyond the river where she had once lain in secret with the person she loved, one she had thought loved her. She had run beyond the grassy meadows where a stranger had saved her life, and past the stone well where she had once wished for she and Regina both to find their happiness…
Such wishes, she knew now, often went unanswered.
So, cloak still damp and weighing heavy on her shoulders, Snow White turned away from the village and ran deeper into the forest.
Running until her body ached as badly as her broken heart.