Later that evening, SW stood in front of his mirror and rehearsed all the things he could talk about with Elliot during and after the banquet, when there was an abrupt knock on the door.
"Enter!"
Hee! I love saying that.
In walked Hunter. SW frowned.
"What are you doing here?"
"The cook needs meat for the banquet, so the king assigned an impromptu hunting trip. That means you go too, Scooter."
"What? Dinner is less than an hour away! Why would the cook ask for meat now?"
"Eh, what can I say? He's flighty like that. Well, up and at 'em, little prince."
"But I'm not dressed for hunting!"
"You're dressed, it's enough. Chop-chop, or the king will be most displeased. Emphasis on the 'dis'."
SW breathed an agitated sigh. Not that he minded getting dirty, but he was hoping to look especially dashing tonight.
Ah, well, maybe Elliot prefers the rugged, outdoorsy type anyway.
"I still don't see why we have to go on foot," SW protested as they trudged through the woods. SW continued,
"I also don't see why you couldn't let me at least bring my bow and arrows!"
Hunter shrugged.
"The horses are tired. They told me. Besides, I've seen you shoot… you're a lousy aim. Ah, this is a nice spot!"
They were quite deep in the woods now, and they were in an especially dense spot area with ominous trees surrounding them. The sun was sliding down like a teardrop on the face of the sky. SW said,
"I don't think we'll be able to find much game in all this brush. And why are we so far from the palace?"
Hunter then gasped.
"Don't panic, but I really think you should take three steps backward."
Ever trusting, SW obeyed… and tripped over a flat rock and fell in front of a wide tree. SW was about to reprimand Hunter, but he lost his nerve when Hunter hovered over him, a sickening gleam in his eye. SW swallowed hard.
"Uh, maybe we should go."
"We'll go, just not together. I'll be heading back to the palace…"
With catlike grace, Hunter unsheathed his knife, grabbed SW's shirt, and held the knife to SW's throat.
"… And you'll be going to a better place."
As I watched Hunter… why am I doing this now??
"Why, Hunter? Why are you doing this?"
Hunter pretended to mull this over, then nonchalantly replied,
"Basically, your stepdad hates your guts and paid me to kill ya. Since I don't like you either, I figured, why not?"
SW's mind was racing.
All right, you have to get yourself out of this! Do something! I know, appeal to his soft side… oh, who am I kidding, Hunter doesn't have a soft side! You can confuse him with that riddle about the three ages of man… no, everyone knows that one! I can't tell him I have a wife and kids, 'cause that's obviously a lie. Oooh, maybe I should tell him it's wrong to kill me because I'm still a virgin… you moron, don't tell him that!! That would be even worse than getting killed!
Hunter was about to strike, so SW did the first thing that came to mind. He grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it in Hunter's eyes. Hunter yelled in surprise, covered his face, and SW took off into the woods like a deer during open season.
By the time Hunter got the dirt out of his eyes, SW had vanished. He bolted after him, but after a half hour of searching, he realized he'd never find SW, especially now that the sun had set.
"Bastard-king will be furious if I come back empty-handed," Hunter muttered to himself.
There was a rustling in the bushes. Hunter spun around and saw a raccoon scurry out. Hunter had his knife out, and he was damned if King Robert knew what a human heart looked like. Plus, a new addition to his taxidermy collection, so a win-win situation. Besides, that wimp of a prince wouldn't last an hour alone in the wild. Hunter smiled to himself and cried to the raccoon,
"C'mere, you little masked bandit!"
Meanwhile, back at the palace, the banquet was underway, but Elliot was too busy scanning the room looking for SW. Her mother (who'd had one sip too many) slapped the table and said,
"Elliot, for Heaven's sake, stop craning your neck so! It's unladylike and it only accentuates those ugly veins!"
Elliot slumped in her chair and sighed. She was seated right next to King Robert, but she was hesitant to ask about SW's whereabouts (mostly because King Robert creeped her out), but finally she couldn't take it anymore and said,
"Your Majesty? I'm sorry to interrupt you while you're eating, but may I ask where your son…"
"Step-son."
"Um, right, step-son is? He said he'd be here, but I don't see him."
King Robert put on his best sympathetic face.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetheart, but Snow White takes to his room. He was feeling ill and needed his rest."
"What a shame! Perhaps he'd like a visitor?"
"No!"
King Robert's loud, abrupt answer caused Elliot to nearly jump out of her chair. King Robert smiled.
"What I mean is, he's highly contagious, and you don't want to get sick, do you?
Snow White wanted me to tell you he's simply… heartbroken about missing you."
Elliot couldn't help but be touched.
"How sweet of him to think of that. Most guys just stand you up, without so much as an apology or a 'I meant to tell you I prefer your friend'! Like the son of Baron Beardface who was all, 'Sorry, but archery eats up all my time', and then there's Sir Sean of Kelly who was all, 'a fight with with a dragon left me unable to'…"
Poor Elliot didn't notice that King Robert couldn't care less about what she had to say. She soon wound down her rant and smiled at him and said,
"My point is, you did a good job raising such a kind, considerate man all by yourself! You must be so proud of him!"
Annoyed at yet another person's praises of SW, King Robert's smile became more strained.
"Well, that's him all over. He's all… heart! He'd be heartsick if he hurt anyone's feelings! That's right, nothing but heart!"
King Robert then started laughing in an unpleasant, uncontrollable fashion. Elliot forced a laugh in response and went back to her food, wondering how the people of Sacredheartland could live with such a psychopath for a king.
I always hear parents say they want to kill their kids, but I didn't think any parent would actually try to do it!
SW ran faster than he had in his life, his arms flailing and his feet taking comically wide steps. He jumped over every creek, ducked every tree branch and toppled down every hill.
I need to do something, I need shelter, and I need… to breathe when I run!
SW stopped to catch his breath with several deep gasps. He had been running for quite a long time. He was certain that he'd lost Hunter, but now the question remained of where SW could go from here? He wasn't safe at home, but he didn't know the first thing about living in the wild. SW decided to look around for some shelter for the night. He wandered through the woods, trying to ignore the menacing sounds of the night.
A distant light caught his eye. SW followed it and found the answer to his prayers: a small, inviting cottage.
I'll admit it's a leap of faith that someone will just let some random stranger stay the night, but I'm a firm believer in the "can't hurt to ask" policy.
SW knocked on the door and called,
"Hello? Anybody home?"
No answer. SW carefully opened the door and peeked inside. There was no one in sight. SW stepped inside, closed the door, and promptly hit his head on a ceiling beam.
Jeez, my ant farm had higher ceilings!
SW continued walking and hit his head on another ceiling beam.
Okay, should have anticipated that one.
The cottage was very cluttered and messy, and there was a lantern burning on the window sill, so it was obvious that someone lived here, but who? He then saw seven little beds scattered throughout the cottage.
Wow, seven people-seven really, really little people- live here and not one can keep it tidy? Such a pity. No, wait, it's perfect! I'll clean it up, show that I can earn my keep, and maybe they'll let me stay!
SW immediately set to work; SW had a knack for housekeeping, due to all the times King Robert forced him to do menial labor with the servants. SW found a water pump and cleaned all the dishes by hand and put them away in the cupboards. He tore off a piece of his cape and dusted every piece of furniture in sight. It took some doing, but he found a broom and swept all the dirt out the door. SW then made each and every bed; he wanted to do more, but the combination of cleaning, running, and the emotional trauma of finding out the only father he ever knew was out to kill him had SW bone weary.
I know I shouldn't, but… bed soft…
He got on his knees and slumped against one (he knew it would take pushing all seven beds together in order to lie down properly). He was only planning to take a quick nap, but SW was soon out like a light, unaware of the distant sound of seven pairs of footsteps...