The Woodcutter by Kate Danley; © Lolloj / Fotolia Page A
Authors: Kate Danley; © Lolloj / Fotolia
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Woodcutter released the spell and settled back against the inside of the tree, “Now, could you tell me why this Beast has picked you as his prey?”
The boy seemed to size up the Woodcutter, as if weighing his character, “My name is Rapunzel.”
He took off his hat and the Woodcutter saw it was a she, not a he, who sat beside him. She ran her fingers through her short, curly hair and then held out her hand.
Rapunzel.
A sense filled the Woodcutter’s being, a sense that there was something terribly wrong as he stared at her hair closely shorn.
He took her hand delicately in his rough and calloused own.
“Woodcutter,” he replied.
They stood for a moment more.
“Perhaps now you remember how you came to the crossroad?” he suggested.
“There is a witch…” Rapunzel stopped and then began again, “My parents weren’t supposed to have a baby, but my father stole some watercress from a witch’s garden. The witch said she would take me as payment for the greens.” She looked at the Woodcutter proudly, “We’ve been gypsies since before the day I was born. I look like a boy to fool the witch.”
“Where are your parents now?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged as she scratched her leg, but a small tremor in her voice gave away her worry, “I went to bed the night before last and woke at the crossroad where you found me.”
The girl with glass slippers…
The princes in the Vanishing House…
Rapunzel shivered, but not from the chill in the air, “Why was he tracking me?”
Even in the darkness of the tree, she seemed to shine.
“Because you are special, Young One.”
Rapunzel laughed, “You’re mistaken.”
But he was not. There had been something unusual about the watercress her mother had eaten while pregnant with this child, he was sure of it.
“Have you ever nicked your finger?” asked the Woodcutter.
“Sure,” she replied.
“What color was your blood?”
“Blue. Like everybody’s.”
“Not like everybody’s.”
Rapunzel pointed at the veins in her arm, “Everyone has blue.”
The Woodcutter shook his head, “That is not how these things work.”
“You’re saying my blood is a strange color and so that creature wants to eat me?”
The Woodcutter wanted to deny it, but he could not.
So he said nothing.
She became quiet, “You’re serious.” She stood, their hideaway in the tree suddenly becoming too small, “So what do we do? Run for eternity?”
“We could,” said the Woodcutter.
“I just want to go home.”
“You would not be safe. You were brought to the Woods once. Whoever brought you here would most likely bring you once again.”
“I was brought to the Woods to be food for some hellhound.” She swayed and gripped her sides with her arms as she became desperate, “You have to help me. You have to find a way to keep me safe.”
Son…
His father’s voice…
It seemed like only yesterday they had stood in the Woods together.
Son…
He pushed it back.
Son, there will be a day that you will need refuge…
He pushed away the memory of what happened next.
“There is a tower…” the Woodcutter said.
She looked at him incredulously, “A tower?”
“You will be safe until I find the Crone.”
“The Crone?”
“I have been told she knows how to defeat a hellhound.”
“You would leave me alone while you wander off to seek out some Crone?” Rapunzel’s voice hit a strained pitch.
The Woodcutter calmly said, “Or we could walk for eternity and hope we never cross paths with the Beast.”
Rapunzel’s mouth opened. And then closed again.
The Woodcutter looked towards where the Beast last walked, “We would best put some distance between us and this place.”
The Woodcutter crawled out of the tree and patted the rough bark, “Thank you,
The boy seemed to size up the Woodcutter, as if weighing his character, “My name is Rapunzel.”
He took off his hat and the Woodcutter saw it was a she, not a he, who sat beside him. She ran her fingers through her short, curly hair and then held out her hand.
Rapunzel.
A sense filled the Woodcutter’s being, a sense that there was something terribly wrong as he stared at her hair closely shorn.
He took her hand delicately in his rough and calloused own.
“Woodcutter,” he replied.
They stood for a moment more.
“Perhaps now you remember how you came to the crossroad?” he suggested.
“There is a witch…” Rapunzel stopped and then began again, “My parents weren’t supposed to have a baby, but my father stole some watercress from a witch’s garden. The witch said she would take me as payment for the greens.” She looked at the Woodcutter proudly, “We’ve been gypsies since before the day I was born. I look like a boy to fool the witch.”
“Where are your parents now?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged as she scratched her leg, but a small tremor in her voice gave away her worry, “I went to bed the night before last and woke at the crossroad where you found me.”
The girl with glass slippers…
The princes in the Vanishing House…
Rapunzel shivered, but not from the chill in the air, “Why was he tracking me?”
Even in the darkness of the tree, she seemed to shine.
“Because you are special, Young One.”
Rapunzel laughed, “You’re mistaken.”
But he was not. There had been something unusual about the watercress her mother had eaten while pregnant with this child, he was sure of it.
“Have you ever nicked your finger?” asked the Woodcutter.
“Sure,” she replied.
“What color was your blood?”
“Blue. Like everybody’s.”
“Not like everybody’s.”
Rapunzel pointed at the veins in her arm, “Everyone has blue.”
The Woodcutter shook his head, “That is not how these things work.”
“You’re saying my blood is a strange color and so that creature wants to eat me?”
The Woodcutter wanted to deny it, but he could not.
So he said nothing.
She became quiet, “You’re serious.” She stood, their hideaway in the tree suddenly becoming too small, “So what do we do? Run for eternity?”
“We could,” said the Woodcutter.
“I just want to go home.”
“You would not be safe. You were brought to the Woods once. Whoever brought you here would most likely bring you once again.”
“I was brought to the Woods to be food for some hellhound.” She swayed and gripped her sides with her arms as she became desperate, “You have to help me. You have to find a way to keep me safe.”
Son…
His father’s voice…
It seemed like only yesterday they had stood in the Woods together.
Son…
He pushed it back.
Son, there will be a day that you will need refuge…
He pushed away the memory of what happened next.
“There is a tower…” the Woodcutter said.
She looked at him incredulously, “A tower?”
“You will be safe until I find the Crone.”
“The Crone?”
“I have been told she knows how to defeat a hellhound.”
“You would leave me alone while you wander off to seek out some Crone?” Rapunzel’s voice hit a strained pitch.
The Woodcutter calmly said, “Or we could walk for eternity and hope we never cross paths with the Beast.”
Rapunzel’s mouth opened. And then closed again.
The Woodcutter looked towards where the Beast last walked, “We would best put some distance between us and this place.”
The Woodcutter crawled out of the tree and patted the rough bark, “Thank you,
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