CHAPTER 10 – Escape

Recommended for mature audiences only. Some content is not suitable for young readers.

(Updated for errors & minor content - 23-Mar-2018)

Snow kicked and screamed as the large brute carried her through the palace. The corridor was long and dark, only a few torches lit the way. It was one of the servants' passages, she realised, and it was mostly used to move goods in and around the palace. "Put me down!" she yelled. Her head began to pound from all her screaming and blood rushed to her head as she hung over the man's shoulder. She could still hear the commotion and clanking of metal against metal as men fought to the death in the large ballroom.

"Quiet!" bellowed the fat, stinking man and with a loud whack, smacked the Queen's behind. Snow cried out at the sharp sting. "Luckily for you," growled the man, "Argus wants you in one piece!"

Snow took a breath and tried to think what to do. Knowing she wasn't getting anywhere by yelling, Snow opened her mouth and bit as hard as she could into the man's back. He let out a loud yell and before she knew it, Snow was being flung to the ground. A giant hand rose in the air and the last thing Snow remembered before everything went black, was the firm blow across her cheek.

The Huntsman felt his legs moving before he even properly registered what had happened. Not moments before, Snow had been hauled over the shoulder of a large oaf of a man and they'd both disappeared through a door at the back of the ballroom. As he ran towards it, somebody clutched his arm and pulled him backwards.

"Eric!" shouted Bane. Blood was seeping through his left sleeve and his nose was swollen and already bruising. "Where are you going?"

The Huntsman growled as a rebel lunged at Bane's back. Quick with his axe, Eric slaughtered the man before Bane realised the man was there. "I dinnae have time for this!" he yelled back at Bane. "They took her!"

Bane looked around the ballroom and saw Duke Hammond's lifeless body lying near an open doorway. He shot the Huntsman a look of understanding and nodded once. His bloody hand rose and squeezed the Huntsman's shoulder. "I'll get everyone out and head for the mountains. We'll find each other. Go!"

Eric wasted no more time and ran after Snow, skilfully evading anything and everything in his path, leaping over the Duke's body as he flew through the door and into the dark passage.

Snow woke with a loud ringing in her ears. The entire left side of her face felt like it was on fire and she winced when she tried opening her jaw. Looking around with her one good eye, Snow saw she was in some sort of storage room, still within the palace walls. Blinking and dazed, the walls and floor shook around her, the aftermath of the solid blow she'd taken across the face. Her abductor was bending in front of her, tying up her hands vigorously as she lay on the cold, stone floor. Another man, small and dirty, sat in the corner of the room, watching her with cold, beady eyes. His mouth moved, but she could barely make out the words; the deafening ring in her ears made it hard for her to hear.

The larger man – the one who'd taken her from the ballroom – finished binding her hands and gave her a menacing smile. She flinched as he moved his hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. His dirty finger then slowly stroked her red, swollen cheek and dropped to where the tops of her breasts rose and fell quickly in her yellow bodice, which was now stained red with Duke Hammond's blood. His hands were rough and cold against her flaming skin and his breath was enough to make her choke. The brute's toothless mouth moved, and she had to strain to hear what he was saying.

"Hold her down, Merc," he shouted to the impish man in the corner. His words flew around her mind as panic formed in the pit of her stomach. Snow gaped at the large man in horror as he began removing his belt.

The man called Merc jumped up and stalked over to where Snow sat huddled on the floor. She tried to shuffle away as he moved towards her. Think, she screamed at herself. What use was all her training if she couldn't defend herself now? Backing against the wall, Snow let out a scream as Merc grabbed her wrists by their restraints and pinned her flat on the cold stone floor. His hands felt like iron cuffs as they clutched her arms above her head.

"Let go of me!" Snow shouted as she tried to free her hands. Her jaw screamed in protest at the join just below her ear. It was no use trying to get her hands free, but her legs were still free, so she kicked with all her might at the larger man and he stumbled backwards, his breaches falling to his knees.

"Keep her still!" he growled to Merc, but Snow wasn't about to give up that easily.

Snow rolled onto her stomach and up onto her knees. Taking advantage of Merc's hold on her arms, she pulled him towards her. Her head collided with his with a loud crack. Luckily for her she'd been expecting the blow, unlike Merc, who fell to the floor unconscious.

Unfortunately, Snow was a fraction too slow, and the large man tackled her back to the floor.

"Get off me!" she screamed as the man's fat, stinking body moved over her. Trying to kick him away, she yelled again, "Don't touch me!"

Snow felt all the air leave her as she received another blow, this time to the stomach. Something hard also hit her on the mouth, a fist most likely, and blood from her own mouth poured down her chin and throat, causing her to choke and splutter. Moving her head to the side, Snow spat out what she could of the blood, but it still flowed into her mouth and down her throat. Severely winded and gasping for air, Snow felt herself losing consciousness; black spots appeared in her vision and the ringing returned in her ears as she choked and coughed. The memory of Ravenna's poisoned apple and herself struggling in the snow suddenly flashed through her mind. Both times she gasped for air, choking and paralysed with fear, as evil loomed over her.

Snow felt the large, toothless man tearing at her skirts and undergarments to expose her legs. A lone tear fell from her eye as she cried and spluttered. Was this the end? Was she going to die like this, drowning in her own blood while some horrid man had his way with her? Closing her eyes and preparing herself for the worst, she heard a yell and felt the man rise off her. A few seconds later, Snow felt hands on her again and she cried out, but they felt different this time, familiar even.

With the pounding in her head getting worse and her lungs still not getting enough air, Snow forced open her eyes and managed to cough out more blood as she was pulled into a sitting position. Expecting to see Merc or the large brute ready to pounce, Snow was shocked to see both men laying in a heap beside her; a dagger sticking out of one and a slit across the other's throat. The sharp metallic smell of blood hit her as it pooled over the floor.

Still faint and wheezing, Snow's attention again came to the hands that were now cutting free her own, and then felt herself being lifted into someone's arms.

Something inside her told her it was okay, or maybe it was a real voice – she wasn't quite sure – but she believed it and welcomed the darkness.

"Snow!" The familiar, deep voice shook her from her dreamlike state. "Snow, open yer eyes!"

The ringing in her ears had subsided a fraction, and the loud, painful throbbing had taken its place. Blinking her eyes open, Snow saw a hazy figure in the darkness before her. It was his eyes she recognised first; they stared back at her, dark and full of concern.

The Huntsman was kneeling in front of her as she sat on a bale of hay in the stables. "Snow, can you hear me?"

"Eric?" her voice was hoarse from her screaming. She could hear yells and people running on the other side of the stable walls. "What's happening? Who are these people? We have to help."

Eric ignored her questions as his hands moved over her body, feeling the blood-soaked bodice of her dress. "Is this yer blood? Are ye badly hurt?" His accent grew thick with worry.

Snow looked down at her ruined gown and shook her head. "I'm fine." It was true, aside from a bruised and swollen face and a piercing headache that made it hard to keep her eyes open. She had fared much better than some of her people. "We need to help them," she said again.

"We cannae help them now; we have to get out of here." There was an edge to the Huntsman's voice Snow couldn't place. "I need ye alert enough to ride out of here. Do ye think ye can do that?"

Snow nodded slowly, still trying to come to terms with what was happening. Images of that night ten years ago flashed through her mind. The screams and the blood – it was happening all over again. She swallowed hard. "I'm scared Eric," she whispered.

The Huntsman took her hands and pulled her to her feet. "I'm going to get us out of here, do ye hear me?" His eyes pierced into hers, "Ye need to listen to me. We need to get out of here right now." There were already two horses saddled, ready and waiting. His voice was laced with urgency. Snow could tell he was anxious to get going.

Snow nodded.

Loud voices from outside the stable caught the Huntsman's attention and he growled. "Quick, get on." He gave Snow a boost onto one of the horses. "When I say, head straight for the portcullis and keep yer head down. Dinnae stop and dinnae look back. I won't be far behind ye."

Before she could say anything, the Huntsman held his finger to his mouth, prompting her to be quiet. Snow swallowed hard and nodded. A large lump rose in her throat and she pushed the unthinkable from her mind. Eric could take care of himself.

The voices outside the stable were getting louder as whoever was out there got closer. The Huntsman drew his axe and crept over to the stable entrance and hid behind the door.

Snow could make out two men as the voices got just outside the door and the Huntsman braced himself. The large stable door swung open and two men came bounding inside. Just as one of them made eye contact with Snow, the Huntsman smashed him across the head with his axe and he was dead before he hit the ground. The second man was faster than the first, and managed to hit the Huntsman in the stomach, causing him to double over and drop his axe.

"Eric!" Snow cried. The horse beneath her flexed its muscles and shifted on its legs, aware of the commotion.

"Go!" the Huntsman yelled at Snow. Frozen in her place on the horse, Snow watched as the rebel dived onto the Huntsman. "Now!" growled the Huntsman again as they both wrestled to the floor.

Snapping back to her senses, Snow kicked her horse and galloped out of the stable with her heart in her mouth. 'I won't be far behind' – the words kept repeating in her mind as every cell in her body willed them to be true. Snow kept to the shadows and raced towards the palace gates, keeping her head down just as the Huntsman told her too.

Just as Snow made it through the heavy iron portcullis, she pulled on the reigns and the horse slid to a halt. Looking behind her, Snow saw the courtyard in a frenzy. It reminded her so much of the night Ravenna had killed her father. Rebels and villagers ran around in all directions, but her focus was now on the group that had obviously spotted her escaping. They wasted no time in gathering their horses and began to ride after her. Snow's heart swelled in her chest. Where was Eric?

As the men drew nearer, Snow saw a dark figure on a horse emerge from the stable and she let out her breath. Kicking her horse into a gallop, she turned and raced away from the fast approaching rebels. Snow just made out the swish of an arrow flying past her ear. Soon the Huntsman caught up to her and they raced towards the nearest village. It only took Snow a moment to realise where they were going. Eric was leading them to the Dark Forest. A lump rose in Snow's throat and she shot the Huntsman a nervous glance as he rode beside her. It was a useless act, as it was too dark for him to notice; but she didn't want to go in there again. Looking behind her, Snow saw that the group of rebels had drifted further behind them but were still in pursuit. You did it once, she told herself. You can do it again.

The dark, misty wall of the forest got taller with every stride. Suddenly, Snow remembered that the horses wouldn't dare enter the shadows of the Dark Forest. After what happened to her horse the first time, having gotten stuck in the mud-covered bank, Snow pulled on the reigns and slowed before the steed got stuck in the would-be muddy grave. The Huntsman seemed to understand and did the same. Together, they jumped off their horses, and Eric gripped Snow's arm as they ran for their lives towards the haunted trees. Thick mud sloshed around Snow's feet and ankles, but she refused to let it claim her. Another arrow zipped past her arm as they ran.

The hooves were getting louder behind them with every second. Snow dared not turn around this time in case she tripped and fell in the sticky sludge. The rebel's sounded close. Too close. The pair narrowly made it to the edge of the forest and Snow held her breath as they dove into the mist.

Despite her efforts, the bitter, moist air filled her lungs and no more than a second later, Snow's foot gave way beneath her and she fell to the moss-covered ground. The thick moss gripped at her hands and arms as if it were trying to drag her beneath. Swiftly, Snow was hauled upwards by the Huntsman, only to be pulled immediately under the base of a large tree. The Huntsman's hand went over her mouth and Snow's questioning, fearful eyes searched his own. Why aren't we running? They asked.

"Dinnae make a sound," the Huntsman breathed in her ear.

The sound of horses whinnying and sloshing in the muddy ground told Snow that the group of rebels had come to a halt just outside the forest. "The horses won't go in!" Snow heard a loud, angry man shouting at the others.

Snow squirmed when she felt something crawling over her ankle, and the Huntsman squeezed her to remind her to be quiet. Looking above her head, Snow noticed dozens of small, glowing eyes peering down on her. Strange insects lined the inside of the tree and Snow shuddered, trying to focus her attention on the men hunting her instead.

The rebels had started to argue among each other. "I'm not going in there!" shouted one. A few men grunted in what Snow presumed as agreement and a hint of relief washed over her.

One man now shouted at the rest, obviously keen to continue after Snow and the Huntsman. "We have no choice. He'll have our heads if we lose her!" Another argument broke out between the men again, but all too soon Snow heard the men trudging into the forest.

Snow squeezed her eyes shut, trying to tell herself that the whole night had been a dream. Soon she would wake up in her bed and none of this would be real. Snow's eyes flung open as something bit her on her arm, just above the elbow. She cried into the Huntsman's hand and her whole arm began to throb. The Huntsman pulled her closer, trying to calm her and keep her quiet.

Not wanting to think about what just bit her and what it would do to her, Snow stared with wet eyes through a gap in the base of the tree. Three of the rebels had come into view and were walking very slowly, looking around cautiously. Despite their dirty, grimy faces, they looked as pale as any ghost. Just then, a howl broke out somewhere in the distance. The men span around, their weapons drawn and ready.

A colony of bats decided to glide down around the men in that very moment and the men set off running deeper into the forest. One of them, not paying attention to where he was running, fell into a cluster of red and orange mushrooms. Snow recognised the thick yellow pollen as it rose up around the man and filled his lungs. Within moments he was unconscious. Another moment passed, and Snow heard horrid, bloodcurdling cries coming from deep in the forest. She guessed that whatever had howled earlier had found the other two rebels. Eric pulled her out from under the tree not a moment later.

"Well that takes care of those three," he said icily.

"There were more," Snow voice was quiet and trembling as she cradled her swollen arm. "I thought they had all come in after us?"

"They split up. Let's get out of here before the others come looking."

Another loud, spine-chilling howl rose up around them and Snow jumped. "So, what are we going to do?"

The Huntsman grabbed Snow's hand. "We're going to get out of here. I dinnae care to spend any more time than I need to in here."

Snow followed Eric all too gladly back towards the entrance of the Dark Forest. Searching for danger, the Huntsman stepped out of the mist slowly. When all signs of threat were gone, they moved quietly through the darkness back to where they abandoned their horses.

Snow soon spotted her horse grazing on a small patch of grass beside a small path, but the Huntsman's horse was nowhere in sight. "Damn animal!" he growled.

Snow gazed at him in the moonlight. She could tell by his eyes and the way his shoulders tensed that he was strained. He turned in all directions, looking for any sign of where his horse had disappeared to. Snow moved over to him and took his hand. He looked down at their entwined fingers and sighed before pulling Snow into an embrace.

"Thank you for saving me," she whispered into his chest and she felt the Huntsman tense up even more.

"I dinnae want to think about that, Snow. No' now." Steeping back, the Huntsman seemed to recall something and took hold of Snow's bitten arm and observed it. "You were bitten?"

Snow just nodded. Her arm was throbbing, and her hand and fingers felt numb. The spot where she was bitten was itchy and burning.

"I cannae see much now. It's probably nothing."

Snow swallowed. "How do you know if you haven't seen it properly?"

"Because if it was serious, you'd be dead already."

Snow paled, but the Huntsman let go of her arm and fetched the remaining horse. He motioned to Snow and she let him lift her onto the black beast before he climbed up behind her. She tried to hide that fact she was slightly worried about the bite. Maybe she was hallucinating and didn't realize? Snow moved her hand over the horse's soft coat and through its long shaggy mane. It felt real enough, maybe she was over-reacting. If the Huntsman wasn't worried, she wouldn't be either.

"Where will we go?" Snow asked as the horse began to move. The questions she dared not to ask hung in her thoughts, eating at her. Was William okay? And Greta, and Mary? The Dwarves? She hadn't even gotten the chance to speak with them. Duke Hammond flashed into her mind. She had seen the life leave his eyes not all that long ago. Did William know his father was dead? Was William even alive?

The Huntsman's rough voice broke Snow's trail of thought. "We'll head for the mountains. There is a trail to Stonehill that way. If anyone has survived, they will go there."

"Why didn't we go that way beforehand? When Ravenna was searching for me?" Her arm was still throbbing from when she was bitten, and she moved her hand in circles.

"It is a much longer journey. Hopefully we find Bane; he said he would head for the mountains once he tried to get some people out."

"Are there many… alive?" Snow's voice was barely a whisper as she forced the words from her mouth.

The Huntsman didn't answer for a moment and it made the answer all the more unbearable. "No' from what I could see, but it's hard to tell. I saw yer maid leave prior to the attack, so she may be alive, and I think William would have made it out. That bastard has a tendency for getting out of trouble."

Snow let out a sigh. "I hope Greta is okay. It's my fault she was there in the first place. And poor Duke Hammond."

"None of this is yer fault," the Huntsman snapped. "There were too many, and they seized the entire palace within minutes. There must have been someone on the inside. We should have predicted this."

Snow yawned and rested her head against the Huntsman, ignoring his temper. She felt so tired. The movement of the horse and the sound of the Huntsman's beating heart by her ear soothed her but she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. How many people had died in the palace? People that had only been there because of her in the first place. Her mind flashed to when she had seen the rebels enter the ballroom. Those heads they were carrying... They must have been Duke Hammond's missing guards. Those poor men. A single tear ran down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away.

Snow and the Huntsman continued towards the mountains but stayed off the roads. Snow could sense the Huntsman's annoyance at losing his horse and she knew he desperately wanted to move faster, but her poor horse was already carrying them both.

Soon, a few lights flicked in the distance. It was still quite dark, but she vaguely recognised the terrain. They were nearing Eric's village, she realised. "I thought we were heading to the mountains?" she asked.

"We are. We need some supplies." Eric led the horse the long way around the silent, sleeping village and they stopped outside his small wooden house.

Snow followed the Huntsman inside, who immediately made sure the curtains were properly drawn before lighting a few candles. She looked around the small room, and a sadness washed over her. The last time she'd been there had been such a happy day. She glanced over at the wooden table, which was suddenly the most noticeable thing in the room. Eric also stared at the table for a moment before shaking his head and Snow felt her cheeks turn crimson. His burning eyes met hers for a second and Snow knew he was thinking about their last encounter on that table.

"Right," he said, snapping himself out of his wondering thoughts. "Everyone will have realised ye're no' at the palace by now. More men will soon be after us, if no' already. We need to hurry. Follow me."

Snow followed the Huntsman across the room, where he pushed open a door that led into a small bedroom. It was Eric's bedroom. The one he had shared with his wife. Snow hesitated at the door for a moment, feeling like a trespasser, but the Huntsman gripped her hand and pulled her in. He put the candle he was holding on a small table and motioned to a small cupboard standing in the corner.

"There are dresses in there," he said. "You cannae go about in the one you have on now, it's too noticeable. Change into anything you want – boots as well – but first let me see yer arm," the Huntsman held out his hand.

Snow pulled up her sleeve and showed the Huntsman the bite. Snow's stomach lurched when she realised that her whole arm was purple. The Huntsman looked over her arm, careful no' to touch the bite marks. "Looks like a fleisch spider."

Snow paled. "Is that bad?" she asked, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

"Meat-eaters. They feed on the flesh of dead prey. Ye should be fine, it's only a youngin'. See the marks? There are only four punctures, an adult bite would have eight, and like I said, you'd probably already be dead."

Snow stared down at her purple arm in shock. "A baby? A baby spider did this?"

Eric pursed his lips. "Dinnae worry. Get dressed and be quick about it. I'll be back soon; I have to find myself a horse."

Snow nodded but didn't say anything. He was in no mood to be argued with. Eric stopped once before he left the room. "Do no' leave this house," he added sternly and shut the bedroom door behind him.

Snow took a deep breath and opened the cupboard. A small row of plain dresses hung before her and she reached out and ran her hands over the soft material. Trying not to think about the fact they belonged to Eric's late wife, Snow picked one made of thick cotton with long sleeves. The mountains would probably be cold, so Snow rummaged through the bottom of the cupboard, feeling slightly intrusive, and found some woollen stockings like the ones she wore in the tower to keep her warm. She quickly stripped out of her torn and tattered yellow gown, glad that she could undo the laces by herself. Snow pulled on the stockings and then the dress and found a pair of boots near the door. Taking them, she sat on the bed and slid in her feet. They were a fraction too big; Sara must have been a little taller. Wiggling her toes, Snow figured slightly bigger was better than too small.

Snow stood up and walked over to a small mirror that hung on the wall by the door. It was only big enough for Snow to see her face and it had a crack in the top corner. Snow sighed at her reflection, but she couldn't help but be a little startled. Dried blood covered her chin and continued down her neck. Pulling her lip down slowly, Snow inspected the deep gash that ran along the inside of her bottom lip. Leaving her lip for the time being, Snow picked up her torn and muddy yellow gown and tore a strip from the bottom. She stuffed the remainder of the gown under the bed, not for safe keeping but in case somebody was to come looking for her. Taking the yellow strip back to the small mirror, Snow spat on the material and began cleaning the dried blood off her chin and neck. It wasn't the most pleasant task, but it was all she had to work with. When she was done, Snow went out into the small front room and sat by the empty fireplace to wait for the Huntsman.

Snow sat waiting for Eric to return for what seemed like forever. Her nerves soon began to get the better of her and she fidgeted with her new dress while she waited. Not long later, Snow heard the hooves of a horse walking up to the house and started to panic. What if the rebels had found her? Had they gotten Eric first?

Her nerves evaporated when the Huntsman burst through the door holding a canvas sack.

"We need to hurry," he said, walking to the table and dumping the sack onto the table. He turned to look at Snow and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her.

Snow stood, wiping her sweaty hands on the front of Sara's old dress. Eric's eyes moved slowly over her, taking her in. Snow bit her lip. Was he mad? Was this dress a favourite of Sara's? "Is this okay? I can change back?"

Eric took a deep breath, and Snow saw a flicker of sorrow in his eyes that made her heart stop. He hid it with a quick smile. She didn't judge him for being upset; she felt awful for him having to see her in his wife's clothes.

"Dinnae be daft," he looked down at the sack. "I managed to gather some food," he said, swallowing hard, and that seemed to be all he would say on the matter.

Snow moved over to where Eric stood at the table. "Gathered? That quickly?" She put her hand on his arm and squeezed it a little; a gesture she hoped was comforting.

"Well, borrowed." The Huntsman shrugged when Snow frowned. "I dinnae have time to hunt yet. I didnae take much." His eyes flicked over her once again, thinking, and then disappeared into the bedroom. He emerged carrying a coat much like his own and handed it to Snow. "Here, put this on. It gets cold in the mountains."

Snow took the coat and wrapped it around her. It was too large, hanging almost to her knees, but it would keep her warm nonetheless. When the Huntsman finished adding a few more things to the sack, he took Snow's hand and led her outside, blowing out the candles as they went.

A large, sturdy grey horse stood calmly next to Snow's black one. Without a word, the Huntsman lifted Snow onto her horse before climbing onto his own. Snow stared into the night and could vaguely make out the outline of the mountains. They looked treacherous, even in the darkness. Snow sweetly stroked her horse's soft black coat and she stared over at the Huntsman as she wondered what fate the mountains had in store for them.

"Right," said the Huntsman, kicking his horse into a gallop. "Try and keep up, princess."