Hey hey! So this is a little more of an abstract chapter – a mix of Thomas' present and his past. The story is of my own concoction. However, it was inspired by "East of the Sun, And West of the Moon", one of my favourite childhood tales, "Scatterheart" by Lili Wilkinson, and "North Child" by Edith Pattou, based on "East of the Sun." I hope you all enjoy it – just a little change from the calm, literal reality of my previous chapters.

Sparki: I own nothing!


"Once upon a time-,"

"How long ago?" Through the darkness, Thomas smiled.

"Never mind how long ago, there lived a girl…"


"She was only a child. But in her heart, this little girl held more courage and true love than any man ever to chase the horizon. "I felt Gracie shiver. I held her close, her face, pale and pallid, pressed against my chest. "W…what w-was her n-name?" she whispered, her words cracked by the ice that was slowly stealing through her little body. "T-Tell me h-her name, T… Thomas."

I pressed a kiss to her damp hair, as I pulled my feet through the ruined snow.

"Fearless," I replied. "Her name, was Little Fearless."


Even through the heavy darkness, Thomas could see the terror in her wide eyes beginning to fade. In its place, he saw the beginnings of the child's insatiable need for a happy ending.

"Little Fearless," Sybil whispered, wonder in her words. Thomas nodded.


"Little Fearless," I sighed. "Yes."

Gracie let out a heart-wrenching cough. I shuddered.

"Now Little Fearless had a sister," I continued. In the gathering darkness, I struggled to peer through the trees. I stumbled over a rock, my boot slipping upon the wet stone. With a cry, I landed upon my knees in the snow. Gracie, clinging to me, was too weak to protest.

"This sister was beautiful," I murmured, scrabbling to my feet. All the while I struggled beneath the light weight of my sister. I was exhausted; my arms felt heavy with fatigue, and my heart was heavy with fear. But I kept talking. I couldn't take the silence.

"Yes, she was beautiful," I gasped. "But she was also vain, and cruel, with a heart as fickle as the changing winds."


"What was her name, Thomas?" Sybil whispered. He felt her little hand come to a rest upon his knee. Thomas' smile faded.

"For this reason, her name was Scatterheart."


"Scatterheart had many beaus. All were deeply in love with her, but she cared for none." A cold gust of wind, cruel and brittle, scraped at my face. "None, save for one.

But you see, this boy was killed. He was killed by a prince."


"A prince?" Sybil whispered, and Thomas nodded.

"A young prince," he continued. "A prince who had, like so many others, fallen in love with Scatterheart, and wanted her as his own."


"For the first time, Scatterheart shed a tear, for a soul other than her own." I coughed, as the cold began to claw at my chest. Gracie was becoming heavy within my arms, but on I trudged.

"Filled with remorse for the time that she had wasted, and a burning hatred for her love's murderer, Scatterheart took from her father his finest bow, and with it, his sharpest arrow. She then set off, in search of the prince."


Thomas stopped.

Why he had chosen this tale, the under butler knew not. It wasn't a happy tale; it was an unhappy fable, with flawed characters, and an all too realistic ending. For the life of him, Thomas could not remember where he had first heard the tale of Little Fearless: the child without fear.

Perhaps that was why he had chosen such a story for Sybil; he wanted to show the girl that she could be fearless. That she didn't have to be afraid.

That she didn't have to cry.

But Little Fearless did cry.

"Thomas?"

He glanced down. His eyes having finally adjusted to the darkness, Thomas studied Sybil's expectant face. Through the shadows, her eyes were bright; no longer the work of tear drops, but of wonder.

"What happened next?" she whispered. "Did Scatterheart… find the prince?"

Reluctantly, Thomas gave a small nod.

"Yes, she did."


"She found the prince," I whispered against Gracie's ear. "And she killed him. With that arrow - the sharpest arrow that man had ever made, she pierced the prince's heart."


Sybil gasped. "Really?"

"Yes," Thomas replied. "With a single shot."


"Scatterheart returned home. Although she had avenged the death of her love, she felt that her cold heart was more empty than ever before."

With a soft cry, I fell to me knees. The snow was so cold; it seemed to burn through my thin trousers. All around me, the trees seemed to thicken. They closed in, their dark trucks impassable. Their branched, gnarled and grotesque, appeared to reach for Gracie's limp form, their sharpened fingers harsh and wanting. I held my sister closer to my heart.

"For Scatterheart, this was the end of her journey," I whispered. "But for Little Fearless, the journey had only just begun."


That night; a night, as dark and as cold as the Devil's cackle, there was a knock upon their door. Scatterheart's father, a simple tradesman, skilled, but poor, reached for the handle. But the door was blown open. A gust of winter's wind, so icy and frozen, flooded the tiny house, swiping the fire, and drawing Little Fearless from the solitude of her room.

In the doorway, stood a bear.

A bear, as strong and as fierce as the far away mountains. A bear, who was white as snow.

"Your daughter must come with me," the bear told the man. "For she has done great wrong."

But Scatterheart refused.

"I will not come with you, Snow Beast," the girl spat. "I have done no wrong!"

But the bear replied, "You have done wrong. Great wrong. For the price of one life is not another." The bear gazed at Scatterheart, his great eyes burning.

"If you do not come," he told the girl, "ruin will fall upon your family."

But Scatterheart remained unmoved. "I will not go!" she cried.

"I will go."

As the bear turned his great head, Little Fearless stepped forward.

"I will go with you, Bear."

After a moment, the white bear nodded.

"Very well."


Up the stairs he wandered, his footsteps soft, so as not to disturb those who slept behind the thin walls. In his arms, Sybil was still; calm in sleep. The under butler was not certain how he was to return the girl to her room - very quietly, he supposed.

Despite his weariness, Thomas smiled.


"Gracie," I whispered. "Please, wake up."

But my sister didn't move.

Up ahead, the glowing light was warm and welcoming; a beacon from home, pushing its way through the trees. It was so close.

But I could walk no further.

"Gracie… please."


She followed the white bear that night. And Little Fearless knew that nothing could ever be as it was.

Never again.


There it is – the oddest chapter, I think, of the bunch. I hope it was good, and that you all enjoyed it! Thanks, guys!