Ali Spangles 🩷💜💙

The Proposal

This was another morning. Tiffany woke to the rays of the springtime sun as they spilled in through an open window. Fresh air and birdsong greeted her as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. As she had done so many times before, she stood from her bed and stretched. She untied her shift at the neck and let it drop to the floor about her feet. Stepping out of it and dancing naked across her room she made her way to her table where she picked up a brush and began to dress her hair for the day. Brushing plaiting and tying it off with a pink ribbon, she then made her way to her wardrobe. Taking out a fresh shift, she lifted it over her head and let it drop down against her body. There was a smile on her face as she twirled on the spot and enjoyed the feeling of the fabric as it floated up and back down. Next, she took out a pink skirt into which she stepped, drawing it up to her waist. She tied it off and then looked for her bodice. Slipping it over her head she pulled it down around her chest. Little by little she pulled the cords and felt the support as it tightened around her, holding her breasts tight and giving her a familiar sense of readiness for the day’s work.

Her bare feet trod lightly on tiptoe as she made her way quietly downstairs. She built up the fire in the kitchen and sparked it from a tinder box. She filled the kettle from the water butt and set it to hang over the fresh flames. Then, picking up a basket of wet laundry, she made her way outside.

“Good morning, my dearies!” She whispered excitedly to the chickens as she passed them. They clucked loudly in response and she pouted. “Girls! That is not a nice thing to say about a guest! And she hasn’t been here anywhere near that long! I’m just … looking after her … until she feels better again.” She giggled to herself and moved on. “Good morning, major!” She called to the goat. It was chewing on a piece of linen that it had found in the dirt with all the appearance of satisfaction. Tiffany continued on to the clothes line.

With care, she hung out the various pieces. She had had to raise the line in order to take larger, longer items. She remained en-pointe for most of the time as she reached up to hang the long green tunic and leggings. In time though, nearly dropping them into the dirt on the ground, she dragged over a box to stand on. Her own shifts and her other skirt joined them, hanging freely in the fresh air. Hopping down and picking up her basket, Tiffany made her way back inside.

The kettle was singing as she went in. Wrapping her apron around her hands she lifted it off and filled a large basin with the hot water. She worked her way around the kitchen, cleaning and tidying and singing as she did. In time, she picked up a bag of seeds and meal and went back out. Dancing among the animals she fed the chickens and the old  goat, collecting some eggs from the chicken house once they were suitably distracted by the feed.

“Thank you, dearies.” She smiled.

Back inside, she lifted a heavy iron pan onto the fire and cracked the eggs into it. Stirring in some milk and readying a plate it was a matter of minutes before she decanted the scrambled eggs out and added buttered bread beside it.

Placing the pan to cool, she loaded a tray with the plate and a cup of water then made her way back upstairs.

Susan had still not got the hang of sleeping in beds. She said it wasn’t what she was used to. After her first night under Tiffany’s careful watch, she had insisted on sleeping in a chair. And that was where Tiffany found her. In a large armchair that had once been her father’s, upstairs in the other bedroom. She was naked but for a handful of bandages that still remained. The tall woman lounged fast asleep with her arms to her sides and her legs apart in front. Tiffany blushed shyly as she entered.

“Knock, knock!” She said coyly as she went in, smiling.

Susan snorted awake and reached for a sword that wasn’t there. She looked around furtively then seemed to calm as memory kicked in and she recognised Tiffany. This was normal. Tiffany had grown quite used to it over the last few days. To begin with she had allowed Susan to keep her swords nearby and had made the mistake of waking her much closer. Several perfectly good breakfasts had ended up thrown across the room and staining the walls before she had got the hang of how to wake her remarkable guest. She would never have dreamt of asking her why she always woke so fearful. It wasn’t for her to know. But she made sure that Susan always had room to get it out of her system before she gave her breakfast.

Susan stretched her arms and legs together, yawning widely and then standing up. She winced from the pain of the wounds that were still busy healing but nevertheless made her way to Tiffany with a contented look on her face.

“Good morning,” Susan said with a slight smile forming in the corner of her mouth, “eggs? Am I robbing your friends with this breakfast?”

“Oh the girls don’t mind you at all, they gave me these eggs to cook for you!” Tiffany grinned.

Susan kissed her on the forehead then picked up a piece of bread, dripping with the scrambled egg. She bit it and gave a deep growl of approval at the taste. Kissing Tiffany on the forehead, she made her way back to the chair and sat down.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Tiffany asked, handing the tray to Susan and sitting at her feet.

“Better,” Susan said through breadcrumbs and egg, “ready to have another try!”

Tiffany continued to smile.

“At what?”

“At what? At getting the rest of your treasures back!”

“What?” The smile drained from Tiffany’s face. “But, but, you said they kept a guard! They nearly killed you last time! Why would you … ?”

Susan raised a hand to shush Tiffany.

“It’s a matter of honour!” She bellowed. “Of principal! I’ll be damned if I let a bunch of thieves get the better of me! Besides, they’re your things, I want them restored to you!”

“But that’s all they are! Things!” Tiffany pleaded. “And you’ve brought me more than enough to make up for what I’ve lost!”

“It’s not enough. Not until every plate, every platter, every penny that they took from you is returned!” Susan put the tray down on the floor and stood up. She began to pace up and down the room, a fixed look in her eyes.

Tiffany held back tears and bad memories.

“You can’t bring back everything they took, you just can’t.” She said, dropping her head and closing her eyes. “Won’t you just … just …”

“Just what? Give up? Hide?” Susan found her sword belt on the other side of the room. Drawing the blade, she looked at her own reflection in it and smiled. “I will protect you, Tiffany, I promised that. I don’t hide, and neither should you!”

“It’s lasted me well these many summers.” Tiffany said defiantly.

“Hiding in the loft from any man that walks through your yard?”

Tiffany couldn’t hide the pain on her face.

“It’s lasted me well enough!” She shouted, standing up and putting her hands on her waist.

"You need to learn to fight back!" Susan shouted, gripping Tiffany hard by the wrists, her muscles tensing as Tiffany squirmed beneath her. Tiffany twisted hard and dug her bare heel into the back of Susan's leg, pushing at the stitches. Susan's grip slackened as she winced with pain.

"And you need to learn to run away sometimes!" Tiffany pleaded, looking at the pain in Susan's eyes. "You could be safe here! Please, you need ... I need you!"

"Me? You're trapped here. You need to get outside of this house! Beyond these walls!"

"And you need a home!" Tiffany began to cry.

Susan held her tight about the waist. She looked down into those sweet, wide eyes. The eyes of the angel that had brought her back from the brink.

They kissed.

Susan pulled away and looked deep into Tiffany’s eyes. With one hand, she brushed away the tears.

“Okay,” she said, more gently, “I promise that I won’t try again. Although, now that I know where they base themselves, perhaps there is something I can do to stop them coming here.”

“Even when you go away again?” Tiffany’s voice caught slightly in her throat.

“No,” Susan smiled, “because you’re right.” Susan dropped to one knee. The pain in her leg made her unsteady for a moment but she held her position firm. Holding Tiffany by the hand she looked up at her face. “Tiffany, I do need a home. I’ve never had one before but somehow you seem to make this place feel to me as if it was always my home and I just hadn’t found it. I promise, come fire or flood, I will stay with you now. I shan’t go away again. But I would have you name one thing for me.”

“And what’s that?” Tiffany’s eyes were filling with tears again but beneath them her face was smiling.

“What dowry can I bring you for you to marry me?”

Tiffany fell to her knees, tears pouring down her face as she hugged Susan hard.

Susan’s face contorted from the pain of her wounds but she bore it and stroked Tiffany’s hair.

“Nothing,” Tiffany said, contented, “I just want you.”

The Nurse

Tiffany sat beside the bed while Susan rested. Her eyes were red with tears as she waited to see if Susan would last the night. She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t even look away. She picked up Susan’s hand and stroked it gently. Susan’s breaths were short but still going. Lifting the large hand up to her own face, Tiffany closed her eyes and made a wish with all her heart that she we would see Susan standing tall again.

The last two days had been long. Tiffany had done as Susan had said and waited while she left to look for the cache of the raiders. It had been a long wait, though she knew well that it hadn’t only really been about two days. She had gone about her usual household tasks, washing, tidying, cooking and sewing, and she had always been watchful of the tree-line and the lane for any sign of activity. Deep in her heart she still couldn’t bring herself to wait by the door, or even outside, but from her vantage point in the loft she had watched each time the bells had rung in the treetops. During the day she had seen a couple of the local farmhands pass through her yard on their way to the road. During the night she had seen them return drunkenly to their own homes away across the woodland. Each time she had hoped beyond hope that the next face she would see was Susan’s, but no. It was on the third day, once the chores were done and she was sat once again by the fire as the shadows were growing long outside, that she had plucked up the courage to go to the forest edge and look out. She had stood beneath the tinkling bowers and wished hard to see her again but all to no avail.

Making her way back inside, she had undressed down to her shift and curled up into bed, ready to get up all the earlier and watch for sign or sight of Susan.

That night, she was woken from her dreaming at about midnight by the sound of the bells. Bleary eyed and sleepy she had obeyed her instincts and clambered once more up into the loft to look out. Almost asleep, leaning on the sill, she had seen the figure stumble out from amongst the trees. Her heart rose and then immediately fell as she saw that it was Susan! … but she was bleeding, from many wounds. Moonlight glinted off fresh blood as Susan had stumbled into the yard.

Tiffany had almost fallen through the hatch as she hurried her way down, through her bedroom, onto the landing, down the stairs and out … into the night! The cold air chilled her rosy cheeks, her long blonde hair fluttered loose about her as her shift billowed in the breeze. Susan had seen her! She had tried to run to her, but she had fallen! Tiffany had managed to position herself under one of Susan’s heavily armoured arms, feeling the great woman’s weight on her tiny frame, almost stumbling herself from the shock.

She didn’t know how she had managed it. The whole thing was still a blur. Somehow though she had got her inside the house, slamming the door behind her and shutting out the night. Susan’s blood had stained Tiffany’s shift and was in her hair and on her face as she tried to guide the injured warrior through the hall. At last, her strength had failed and she had fallen there. Heavily, she lay upon the floorboards by the slowly dying fire. Tiffany wept. Susan’s eyes were still open and she had raised a hand to Tiffany’s face. Opening her eyes, Tiffany saw Susan crack a slight smile.

“I got,” she coughed, droplets of blood fell on the floor, “I got you back some of your things.”

Susan had pointed to a bag which had slipped from her shoulder as they had entered. Tiffany didn’t look, she didn’t take her eyes off Susan.

“You’re hurt!” Tiffany stifled a cry as she attempted to scold Susan.

“Just a scratch!” Susan chuckled, coughing and spitting more blood. “I just need a good night’s sleep.”

“You need more than that!” Tiffany began to unbuckle Susan’s armour. More blood showed as the plate metal fell away to reveal the slashes and stabs of well-aimed and keenly sharpened daggers. “Susan, you need … Susan!” But Susan had passed out. Her eyes were shut and her breathing was short and laboured.

Tiffany pulled at the armour and threw it as far as she could across the room. She unbuckled belts and bracers, pulled off the tall leather boots and began to examine the wounds all over Susan’s body. Tears rolled down her face as she tore away already gashed fabric from Susan’s tunic and leggings. The strong frame of the tall woman lay out before her, defiant but dying. From a nearby table, Tiffany grabbed at her sewing things, threading a length of linen thread onto a fine needle. Ripping off lengths of her shift she began to clean the wounds, setting to work with her needle and thread on any that were too large to be bound as they were. Rip, clean, sew, bind. She worked her way from head to toe. By the time she was done she was naked. Her shift was in tatters either tied about Susan’s body or discarded in a pile of now drying blood-stained remnants.

She lay her head down on Susan’s chest and wept bitterly. Time seemed almost to have stopped. If it weren’t for the dim light outside, she would not have realised that any time had passed at all. A moment later, she was jerked from her grief as she felt a sudden pressure on the back of her head. Susan’s arm was raised and her bandaged hand was stroking Tiffany’s now tangled hair.

“Susan!” Tiffany exclaimed.

Susan smiled. There was a fatigue in her face that spoke of an effort in even remaining conscious. Tiffany still would not leave or even turn her back. She gestured to Susan’s bound legs and raised one of her long arms up over her own shoulder. Susan took the message and attempted to stand. She swallowed a yell as the pain of her wounds set in. Tiffany dropped back down but Susan tried again. Three or four times more until … staggering … she was up. Tiffany supported her under one arm and guided her up the stairs. The birds were singing outside as Susan slumped down onto the bed. She drifted off again into quiet oblivion. Tiffany wouldn’t look away. She sat down beside Susan, still quite naked, and held her hand as she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Hours passed. Tiffany’s head was once again resting on Susan’s chest as she listened to the shallow intake and exhaling of breath. She drifted in and out of consciousness herself, all the while trying desperately to monitor Susan’s life signs. She was jerked awake again as Susan began to cough again. No blood now but a rasping cough that cut through the air.

“Water!” Susan tried to call. “Water!”

“I can’t leave you!” Tiffany cried, tears rolling down her face.

“Water! Please!” Susan repeated.

It took every ounce of her strength to stand and to leave. Tiffany ran down the stairs and hastily filled a jug of water from the basin. Spilling much of it on the kitchen floor, she grabbed at a wooden cup as well and hurried back upstairs. She could still hear Susan coughing and rasping for air as she entered the room.

Quickly she poured a cup and sat down again beside Susan. Placing one hand on her head, she offered the cup to her lips. Susan sipped at it as Tiffany could feel a fever setting in on Susan’s forehead.

“Drink up,” Tiffany said, forcing a smile, “it will do you good. There’s more if you need it.”

Susan spluttered as she swallowed and lay back down. She smiled up at Tiffany, at a face red from crying but haloed in tangled blonde hair that shone in the morning light.

“You’re a pretty nurse, you know.” Susan rasped. “A girl could fall for a nurse like you, you know.”

“Promises, promises,” Tiffany whispered, grinning from ear to ear at the sound of Susan’s voice, “you’ll need to get better first. You need to rest.”

“Will you still be hear when I wake up?” Susan asked.

Tiffany leant down and kissed her on the head.

“For you, my love, I would wait a lifetime.”

Susan fell back to sleep. Tiffany smiled as she heard her begin to snore. At last she allowed herself to succumb to fatigue as well and she rested her head once more on Susan’s chest … and fell asleep.

The Gift

Tiffany lay on her bed. Her breathing had settled now and she was beginning to feel stronger again. She was now even almost certain that this wasn’t a dream. Beside her, on a chair carried up from the kitchen, sat Susan. The tall woman’s athletic frame did not give way easily to gentle gestures but Tiffany smiled, appreciating the effort and even feeling slightly amused by the occasional fumbling and then somewhat exotic cursing of this most remarkable woman.

“But you were heading for the ships.” Tiffany stated in a half-dreamy surprise as she took a damp wooden cup from Susan which she had just filled with water from an earthenware jug.

“I was.” Susan said flatly.

“But you didn’t.”

“Exactly.”

Tiffany did her best attempt at a scowl. She was still quite light-headed so it wasn’t exactly heartfelt. Susan seemed to get the message though and began to elaborate.

“I got to the docks just a few hours after I left here. You really are much closer to the coast than I had realised. It’s no small wonder that raiding parties begin at your home. Well, there were almost no boats docked and the whole place seemed quite deserted. I finally managed to find someone, he seemed to be hurrying off to some hidden place in the cliffs, he babbled, it was frustrating. Well, after some persuasion,” Susan stroked the pommel of one of her swords, hanging at her side, “he told me that they had sighted a party heading for the shore. It seems that the townsfolk,” she did her best to smile, “much like you, prefer to hide from the raiders rather than face them.”

“But how did you know they would come here?”

“I didn’t,” Susan’s smile faded, “in fact I assumed they wouldn’t, not first anyway. I’m sorry about that, I could have spared you some pain.” She looked away from Tiffany.

Tiffany sat forward and reached a hand out to Susan, placing it gently on one of her armoured shoulders.

“You’ve done so much just coming back.” She smiled.

“Not enough, it would seem.” Susan said resolutely. “You ran when you saw me coming back?”

“No! I didn’t know it was you! I thought …” Tiffany trailed off.

“You thought I was another of them.” Susan nodded. “Perhaps I am quite like them. Coming over on a boat, sword in hand and looking for a fight.” She turned her head to look at Tiffany again. “Well, perhaps that what I should do!”

Susan stood up and began checking over the many buckles and belts that held her armour and weapons in place. Tiffany made to stand but quickly sat back down on the edge of her bed as she felt hunger and fatigue hit her hard.

“Please,” Susan smiled, “wait here. My delay has cost you and I am in your debt for that.”

“You don’t owe me any…”

Susan raised a hand to hush Tiffany.

“I owe you.” She repeated sternly. “And I always pay my debts.” She stepped close to Tiffany and bent down, putting a hand under her chin and lifting it so that she could take in Tiffany’s delicate features. “There is no fairy prince to tend to your loss, Faewyf, so I shall do my part instead.”

She kissed Tiffany and then left.

For a time, Tiffany couldn’t bring herself to stand up. It wasn’t entirely owing to her state after two days hungry and restless, interrupted sleep. Susan had told her to stay and something deep in her wanted to do what she had been told. Something … something new.

In time, she got up and slowly made her way downstairs again. There was little mess to tidy as there was precious little left. She did what she could though and she continued to take small draughts of the fresh water that Susan had brought from the well. It was refreshing, even if it didn’t fill her tummy.

Some of the foraged food has been salvaged after her fright and she began to prepare what should could with what little she had left in the way of pots, pans and plates. The chickens were glad of their worms and the major happily chewed at one or two of the potatoes.

Tiffany found she was too light-headed for most things so she made her way back inside and set to doing some sewing in the armchair of the main hall. She waited. And she waited. The day was growing old and the shadows of the trees were long in the yard outside when she heard the bells ring again.

Instinctively she ran up the stairs, stumbling several times. Reaching her room, she positioned the chair but as she climbed and made to reach for the loft her vision blurred and her head spun. She felt the soft catch of the palias as she slipped from the chair and fell down hard. Her breath was short and her heart beat fast as she heart footsteps outside.

She closed her eyes as she heard the steps coming up towards her room.

“Have you been lying there this whole time?” Susan asked, puzzlement in her voice.

Tiffany opened her eyes.

“I … I thought … I was trying to …” She tried, the words just wouldn’t flow though. Fear gave way to relief and she lay back, smiling up at the ceiling.

“You are a strange little thing, aren’t you.” Susan watched, smiling. “But come downstairs, I have recompense for you.”

Susan helped Tiffany down to the kitchen. From a bag she had brought with her, she produced vegetables, fruits, plates, pots, cutlery and various other assorted things which she laid out on the table.

“Where did all this come from?” Tiffany asked, wide eyed.

“From around.” Susan continued to add to the collection. “I have some small amount of gold which could use. Although I didn’t need too much of it. When your neighbours were told of your plight it only took a little … persuasion … for them to see that helping you out was the right thing to do.”

“My neighbours? They’ve never cared much for me before!”

“They’ve never had me to remind them of your virtues before.” Susan grinned. It was odd to see on that otherwise very stern face. But it looked well-meant.

“Oh but this is too much!” Tiffany watched as a second bag was emptied. “And, oh!” She watched as Susan placed a large, plucked chicken down on the table. “Don’t let the girls see that! I have no meat in this house! It upsets the animals!”

Susan looked surprised.

“You don’t eat meat?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Certainly not! The chickens are kind enough to let me have their eggs. But only the ones that haven’t a babe in them.”

“What a curious thing you are.” Susan repeated, stroking her chin. “Very well, but please, fill your larder. I would hate to see you go hungry again. I will deal with the meat myself.”

Susan re-bagged the animal and watched as Tiffany did her best about the kitchen to store and prepare the foods. In time, she presented a tray of foods for them both and they ate together. Even through all this, Susan thought, she is being a hostess!

“Please, don’t hold back, you must be hungry.” Susan smiled.

Tiffany blushed and began to eat more ravenously.

Before long the tray was empty and the sky outside was pitch black as the stars far above twinkled.

That night, Susan slept again by the fire in the hall as Tiffany dozed in her own bed. She felt safe in a way she had never quite thought possible, waking a couple of times and sneaking to the landing to peer down and check that her protector was still there.

In the morning, she was up with the dawn and began to set up for the day, far more refreshed and ready than she had been the last couple. She prepared the kitchen, boiling water and cutting bread, laying out butter and fruit. She made her way about the yard, re-stringing the clothes line, feeding the animals and refilling the water butt from the well.

Back in the kitchen, she found Susan, eating breakfast. Without a word she sat down opposite, pulling her plait around over her shoulder and stroking it and smiling as she waited for Susan to talk.

“I believe I know where some of your things have ended up.” Susan said at length, burping and leaning back in her chair. She wiped her face on a sleeve and began to check over herself for her weapons and other paraphernalia. “I tracked the raiders some way before I came to find you again. I believe I’ve located a cache that they are using. I will go and check it today.”

Tiffany was dumbfounded.

“You mean you’re going to … ?” Was she really going to take them on all by herself?

“No, not quite. I believe they have left for the seas again. But I also believe they haven’t taken everything on their ship. I want to look and see what I see there.”

Susan stood up, her heavy boots stomping down on the kitchen floor. Tiffany quickly stood too and ran round the table to Susan who grabbed her hard about the waist.

They kissed again.

“Wait here, Tiffany, I will come back again.”

And then she left.

The Return

The sun was climbing to noon when Tiffany woke up again. Her neck felt painful as she stretched and gently massaged it. She was still sat at the kitchen table, a tray of debris left behind after a full breakfast.

Had she been dreaming?

She looked down at herself.

She could feel that she had been wearing these clothes for far more than a day at this point. She felt like she needed a wash and some fresh clothes. Standing up, she cleared away the things from the table.

She looked around for any signs of other people, but no, she heard the chickens and old major making their usual racket outside. Inside though, there was nothing but the sound of herself as she went about her work. It took the best part of an hour to clear the kitchen and wash down the worktop. Then she made her way back through the house.

She collected up all the burnt out candles, she emptied the ash from the grating, she gathered up discarded pieces of torn linen.

Her head was spinning as she pieced memories back together.

She had been to the forest, to the glade, it had been calm as always … no, it had been to begin with but then something had happened … she had been walking home and then … had she really met someone?

She rubbed her eyes and brushed her fingers through her hair as she continued to make sense of it all.

A midnight escort, some light nursing, then breakfast? No, that didn’t feel right. Her head was spinning. She had gotten things out of order, that was the problem, she needed to do the day right, from the very beginning, then things would make sense!

She walked up the stairs and changed her shift, noting to herself that she must have already had one to be washed which she had missed. She had better get both the dirtied ones done today or she would have nothing for tomorrow.

She cleaned her face and then brushed and re-plaited her hair.

Re-tying her skirt and her bodice, she made her way back down to the kitchen.

She filled the kettle and hung it over a fresh fire, leaving it to sing as she prepared the washtub. Pouring the boiled water in, she scrubbed away at her clothes, singing quietly to herself … a green tunic … eyes so keen. If it hadn’t been real it had certainly been the best dream she had ever had.

She picked the clothes out of the water and wrung them out tightly. Filling a basket with them, she held it against her hip and swayed as she made her way outside. The line was empty. She placed the basket down on a stump beside it and lifted herself up on her toes as she pegged her long garments over it.

The sun warmed her skin as her singing was joined by a myriad of clucking and bleating.

This definitely felt more real now.

She sighed.

It had definitely been a very good dream.

If only she could have more like that! Although, maybe not when she should be cleaning the kitchen. A dream like that is best had in bed.

She smiled.

It didn’t last long though.

She was startled back to reality as she heard the bells ringing in the trees. Running back inside, she hurried up the stairs, into her room, onto the stool and up into the loft. Letting the hatch fall back into place she crouched down by the window and watched.

Oh yes, this was reality alright.

About half a dozen men in long tunics, tall boots and iron hats were making their way across the farmland. She watched, peeping only slightly over the sill, as they started to look over the chickens and the clothes.

One had torn a shift from the line and was laughing, holding it up to himself and pulling faces. These weren’t the men from her dream though, half-baked, high-spirited local boys on a jolly in the dark. No, these were professionals. These were the north-men, back again.

It must be spring, she thought, they always seemed to come in the spring-time.

Released from the snow when it thawed.

Another walked out from the tree-line. Taller, slightly older than the others though she couldn’t quite make out his face. He smacked the young man that had been playing with the shift around the head and pointed to the house. She soon heard boots stamping about. Heavy, wide hands riffling through cupboards and boxes. She shrank down, a little girl again, hiding in the loft. Tears trickled down her cheek as she waited for it to be over.

“What do you mean, no-one?” A voice growled.

“I mean, no-one, chief!” Another answered back in a frightened warble.

“Fires don’t light themselves, boy! Clothes don’t hang on their own! They don’t grow there! Keep searching!” The leader barked out.

Tiffany listened as the banging and smashing got louder again. Hours passed and the sun was drawing down the sky, casting long shadows on the ground, when the men finally relented. She heard them leave and she watched them from the window as they made their way back to the trees and off towards the bay.

It was fully dark outside when she finally made her way down quietly in the silence and still of the night. Item by item, she picked things up, set things right, moved away anything too damaged or trodden to be of use now.

In the kitchen, she saw the cupboards left gaping, food taken and, in many places, the pots that had held it all were cracked or smashed. She would have to forage again. And then hopefully trade at the market.

She sighed. This wasn’t a new experience anymore to her.

Finally, with the last thing righted, the animals checked and re-fed, and the doors properly shut, Tiffany made her way to bed. She had some fresh sheets still which she laid upon the palias and then she curled up and drifted off to sleep. Hoping beyond hope to have that same dream again.

When she woke, she heard the sound of birdsong. Her stomach ached for food though, she could feel it in her gut that she had not eaten since breakfast the previous day. She made her way downstairs as she was. She hadn’t undressed in the night, for fear of being found asleep. Picking up a small basked, she made her way out to the yard.

“I’m sorry, my dearies,” she said to the chickens as she passed, “but I must find us all food before any of us can eat!” The chickens clucked loudly at her as she continued on towards the forest.

Moving amongst the trees she began to dig into the dirt and soil around each with her bare hands, picking out mushrooms and truffles and potatoes. Occasionally she would find a wild berry bush, from which she filled a small jar with strawberries, blueberries and blackberries in turn.

In a smaller pot she made sure to store as many earthworms as she could from her digging as well, the chickens would be mad at her if she had forgotten! It was not a bad morning’s work, though her body ached from it, and she walked back towards the house with a basket full to overflowing with wild delights.

It would take some time to properly wash them all though, she knew well enough that she probably wouldn’t really eat until lunchtime now. She had to make sure to not let her hunger get the better of her either too as most of this would need to be sold in order to buy fresh crockery and replace any other items that the raiders had damaged or taken.

As she walked out onto the grass again, she tried to relax, breathing a sigh of relief. The forest had always provided for her. Even in her hardest times, she had never so far starved. Even still, she longed to do more than survive.

She was about halfway to the house, reaching in her basket for the jar of worms to feed the chickens, when she felt panic grip her again.

The bells were ringing!

She gulped.

How could that be? The raiders never came twice like this! Oh, sweet love, had even that small respite been stolen from her!

She dropped the basket and ran, splashing up mud as she went. It was too late though. She hadn’t even reached the door when she heard footsteps behind her. They must have seen her! No-one could miss her, not standing outside, in broad daylight, in full view of the trees!

She shivered all over as she hurried inside. Maybe she could throw them off though! She hurriedly walked across the hall to the stairs, making a point of leaving muddy footprints on the floor.

Then, at the last, she stopped and pulled her apron from her waist. She could hear a hand on the door outside. She didn’t stop though. Wiping her feet clean as fast as ever she could, she doubled back and into the kitchen. She scurried under the table and pulled the chairs in around her to try and hide herself.

The door opened. Tiffany couldn’t see the person enter, but she heard heavy boots on the floorboards as a careful and deliberate footfall began to search the house. The noise moved to the stairs, her plan had worked! But no, it wasn’t moving up, it had turned away and back towards her!

She closed her eyes tight.

That was it, there was no chance now. The pain in her stomach mingled with the fear in her head and she gave herself up entirely to tears.

The footsteps were in the kitchen now, just a few feet away, as a chair was pulled back and she felt herself exposed.

“Tiffany?” A voice spoke. A familiar voice. Susan’s voice!

Tiffany opened her eyes. There indeed was Susan. Dressed just as she had remembered her from the day before.

She looked puzzled.

“Tiffany, are you okay?” Susan raised an eyebrow. She offered a hand and helped Tiffany out. Immediately Tiffany hugged in close, burying her face in Susan’s side. She continued to cry although there was relief mingled in now too.

“I am.” She said, her voice catching in her throat as she tried to speak. “I am now.”

The Morning

Susan yawned, stretching her arms high above her head as she slowly opened her eyes and took in the room. The smouldering ashes of the fire, the waxy remains of the candles, the sunlight streaming in through the windows. She stood up and scratched her side as she walked through the house. Everything seemed still as she peered into the various rooms, looking or her strange host. She came to the kitchen and saw Tiffany, curled up and snoring gently, her head resting in her folded arms on the large table. Nearby, she saw her tunic, clean and dry. A thin line of careful stitching was all that remained of the knife slash. She admired the handy-work and then slipped the garment over her head. Sitting down at the table too, she began to eat.

Bird song drifted in from outside, along with clucking and what sounded like the complaints of an old goat. Across from her, Tiffany was smiling in her sleep, dreaming a peaceful dream. The food tasted sweet. Susan was just buttering a second piece of bread when she heard another noise from outside. It sounded for all the world like the tinkling of hundreds of tiny bells. She began to look around to try and place the source when she heard Tiffany wake up, startled.

“Oh no! Oh dear!” Tiffany had jumped to her feet, knocking several of items over on the tabletop. She squealed when she saw Susan, taking a moment for memory to fully form in her mind. She clasped at her chest as she tried to slow her breathing. “Sorry, you startled me.” She continued to listen to the sounds outside. “But please, come with me!”

Taking Susan by the hand, Tiffany lead her up the stairs and into her room. Once again she stood up on her stool and opened the loft hatch. She pulled herself up. Susan watched amazed, eating an apple and wondering what was going to happen next.

There was panic in Tiffany’s voice though as she gestured for Susan to follow her.

“Please!” Tiffany called down. Reaching a hand to her.

Susan bit the apple hard between her teeth and, holding it in her mouth, used both arms to pull herself up into the loft. Her height, far exceeding Tiffany’s meant that with just a small jump she caught onto the hatch and in a flash was up there too. Susan was bent double as she tried to fit between the rafters.

“What are we doing up here?” She smiled. “A funny game to play with guests.”

“Shhh,” Tiffany put a finger to her mouth.

Susan raised an eyebrow but stopped talking. She continued to eat her apple as she watched this strange young woman with interest.

Tiffany made her way to the small loft window. Down at the tree-line she could see as several men stepped out, dressed in heavy jerkins and tall boots. They looked about, then, finding nothing, they made their way to the track and up the lane to the road.

Tiffany breathed a sigh of relief.

“I would hate,” she said, turning back to Susan, “to repay such kindness as you did me, by having you caught at breakfast the next day.”

Susan’s smile had faded to confusion as Tiffany hopped back down into the bedroom. Susan followed her and the two of them went back downstairs. In the main hall, Susan began to buckle her armour and her sword-belt back on.

“What was that?” She asked. “That ringing.”

Tiffany blushed slightly. “It’s something I build a few years back.” She said shyly. “To keep me safe.”

Taking Susan by the hand, she led her outside. The chickens clucked loudly as they saw Tiffany appear.

“Hush, my little friends! I’ll feed you later. We have a visitor!” She called to the chickens. “Sorry, you’ll have to forgive Gemma, she’s a very sassy chicken, I’m sure she didn’t mean that!”

Susan laughed a deep laugh.

“Do you understand them?” she asked.

“Well, yes.” Tiffany looked embarrassed. “That is, not to say, not like you might say ‘understand’ … I mean, I don’t know that they’re saying in their chicken-speak … but I’ve always just sort of … known. I know when they’re hungry, or angry, or scared.”

“And what did … errrm …” Susan looked at the chickens.

“Gemma?”

“Ah, yes, what did Gemma say about me?”

“She thinks you look scary with your swords. She thinks you’re a hunter.”

Susan chuckled.

“Do you get many hunters round here?”

“Hunters, poachers, all sorts.” Tiffany gulped. “Raisers too, being to close to the sea and all.”

“Really?”

“Yes, that’s why …” Tiffany ran forwards to the tree-line. “… that’s why I build this!” She twirled on the spot and pointed up to the canopy of leaves high above her. “What do you think?”

It was then that it all started to make sense. Susan looked up and saw, tied neatly to every budding twig and leaf, a small silver bell. The sort you might find on a tree at midwinter. The intricacy amazed her. She wandered towards them, raising a hand to shield her eyes form the sun as she took it all in.

“There must be … hundreds! And you tied them off up there? Why?”

“Well, Tiffany beamed with pride, you see, when anyone comes through the trees, anyone big and mean that is, they tend to make the ground shake just a little bit. Not enough that it would bring down the trees, I mean! But enough that small things can feel the tremors. Small things like, well, like the little bells. So I strung them up. Whenever anyone gets near, I hear them!”

Susan looked around the clearing. Every tree was covered in them.

“This must have taken you …”

“I have a lot of time by myself.”

“And what? When you hear them, you run away and hide?”

“I don’t want to be caught outside if it turns out to be a bad man.”

“What if it’s not?”

Tiffany paused. She tried not to think too much about the past. She liked Susan and she didn’t want to scare her away.

“I’m more worried about what if it is.”

Susan looked over it all again and then back at Tiffany.

“I’m impressed, it’s quite the feat. You should be proud of yourself. I just hope …” she paused “… I just hope you won’t be hiding if I come back.”

Tiffany felt a leap in her heart.

“Will you … come back?”

Susan walked over to her and placed a hand either side of Tiffany’s waist. She took in the image of this country girl, barefoot on the grass in her bodice and skirt, ribbons in her hair. Keen eyes that could watch like that, keen hands that could sew and mend and build like that! How could she not come back. But still, it had been a long time since she had “lived” anywhere. She had boots that needed to walk and maybe when they had a few more hundred miles under them, she would find her way back here. How to say all that though? She wasn’t one for words. Leaning down, she pulled Tiffany up onto her toes as their faces met.

They kissed.

“I promise.” Susan smiled.

Tiffany watched as she walked away back down the track to the road. She couldn’t think of anything to say so she just stood and waited until Susan had disappeared from view. Then she made her way back inside, as if walking in a dream.

She sat down again at the table.

And she drifted back off to sleep.

The Traveller

Tiffany and Susan walked along in silence. The flickering torch light cast twisting shadows on the roadside as they made their way down. At length they came to a gate set in a fence to one side. Without thinking, Tiffany held the top and hopped over onto the track on the other side. She blushed to see Susan smiling with a keen eye. With ease, Susan held the torch high, placed her other hand on the gate top, and jumped over with a loud thud. Dust was thrown up from the track by her heavy boots. She bowed her head and gestured for Tiffany to continue. Coming down the track, they began to hear the sounds of clucking and rustling as they approached the farmhouse. A chill was on the dark building as the night rolled on. Tiffany lead Susan to the door, pushing it open and showing her inside.

“Please,“ she said with a smile, gesturing to a chair by the hearth, “I'll only be a moment.“

Susan sat down and watched as Tiffany went about her work. Putting on a fresh apron, she moved through the house, heaping up logs in the fireplace and kindling them into a fire that began to crackle and roar, flooding the room with warmth. Next, step by step she began to light candles all through the house. Pin points of dull light, burning atop small round candles, glowed and joined together to soon fill the whole place with a warm, yellow glow.

She filled a kettle and set it over the hearth as she collected together a basin, cloth and a needle and thread. The kettle was singing as she laid them all down on a small side table. Rolling her apron over her hands, she lifted the kettle and poured the fresh, hot water into the basin. She looked slightly embarrassed, blushing, as she stood before Susan.

“Please, may I …“ she pointed to Susan's arm. Fresh red still glinted on the green tunic sleeve as some of the blood was already turning to a dull, dry brown. Susan sat up, holding out her arm. Tiffany knelt on the floor in front of her and began to roll up the sleeve. “Sorry!“ Tiffany winced, watching Susan's expression as she began to pull the fabric away from the wound.

“I've had worse.“ Susan chuckled, forcing a smile. Tiffany continued, trying as carefully as she could to avoid pulling at the injury. It was tricky. Fresh blood was oozing out as she began to soak the lengths of fabric and wash the arm. She looked at Susan with some amazement. The cut had been quite deep.

“Does it hurt?“ Tiffany asked. Dabbing with a fresh cloth.

“Oh no,“ Susan lied, gritting her teeth and looking down at Tiffany.

“Where have you come from?“ Tiffany asked as she began to bandage Susan's arm. “You're not from any of the towns here, are you?“

“Oh? What makes you say that? I could be.“ Susan smiled, wincing slightly from the pain in her arm.

“Well,“ Tiffany didn't look up, “you thought I was worth saving. Most people round here …“ her voice trailed off. She looked up, pausing in her work. “Well, most people round here seem to think I'm …“

“A fairy wife?“ Susan raised an eyebrow.

“Well, yes.“

“What is …. ? You're right, I'm not from here. I was fighting in the wars to the north. I was on my way to find a ship. I've never heard those names they called you before. What did they mean?“

“Well,“ Tiffany paused. She lowered her head and focussed on bandaging again. “I keep to myself since … since … well, since I was left alone. I spend most of my time here or in the forest. People seem to think I'm a bit odd.“ She blushed.

Susan brought her other arm around and placed her hand under Tiffany's chin, lifting her face to look up at her.

“You're a pretty little fairy wife,“ she smiled, “maybe they are jealous!“ She looked down. “What a pretty necklace, is that …?“ She moved her hand to lift the pendant but Tiffany tensed, pulling hard on the bandage and inadvertently forcing Susan to recoil in pain.

“Sorry! But please … please don't touch it. It's … well, it was …. it was mother's. It's about the only thing of hers I still have.“

“I'm sorry,“ Susan rubbed her arm, picking up the loose end of bandage and tucking it in, “I didn't mean to upset you. Thank you for your work,“ she stood up, “I will leave you to …“

“Oh please! Please don't go!“ Tiffany jumped up, knocking the table and spilling some of the water and sending several shreds of fabric tumbling to the ground. “You … you must need a rest! After a long journey like that. And your tunic is stained! Please, I can clean it for you while you sleep.“

Susan looked at Tiffany.

“While ai sleep?“ She raised an eyebrow again.

Tiffany blushed.

“Oh no, I didn't mean. I mean. Well, I have a spare bedroom. You're welcome to … I mean .. I wouldn't bother you. I'd just wash your tunic and then maybe, in the morning, I could sort you some breakfast before you .. errm … before you go?“

“That's very sweet of you but you really don't have to. I don't sleep well in beds to be honest with you. I usually make do under a tree.“

Tiffany looked hurt. Her eyes seemed to grow as she dropped her head. “Really?“ she said meekly. “It's the least ai could do. You … well … you saved me. No-one … no-one's ever done that before.“

Susan paused. She looked at the room around her. The smell of wood smoke, the distant aroma of stored foods. The soft light, the warm glow. She smiled.

“I could perhaps sleep in he chair.“ She said, stroking her chin. “It's rather like sitting under a tree I suppose.“

Tiffany raised her head, a grin forming on her face.

“Just for tonight though, I really do have to get away first thing. The boats leave early around here.“

“Of course! I'll get you some blankets!“ Tiffany made to leave then stopped , spinning on her heel to look at Susan again. “Oh! And could I have your tunic? I'll sew up the hole too for you.“

Susan shrugged. She tugged at a couple of buckles and there was a clunking sound as her armoured cuirass and pauldrons slid from her torso onto the floor. Crossing her arms in front of her she lifted the tunic up and over her head. Flicking her long ponytail as she felt the air on her chest, she threw the tunic to Tiffany.

Tiffany blushed again. Susan stood there, naked but for a pair of boots over thin cotton leggings. Her tall frame and athletic build highlighted by the low lighting of the room.

She gripped the tunic tight and, spinning on the spot, her skirt swishing around her, hurried out of the room.

Susan stretched her arms and slumped down into the armchair. Mumbling a marching song to herself, she quickly fell asleep as the fire crackled beside her.

Not far away in the kitchen, Tiffany hummed as well as she scrubbed at the blood stain, pushing the tunic deep into a basin of cold water. Whether because of her long sleep in the meadow, or because of her dangerous encounter at the signpost, or for some other reason entirely, she simply wasn’t sleepy. She busied herself, soaking and cleaning the fabric. Hanging it to dry. Cleaning up the kitchen. Preparing food for the morning. Sewing the sleeve once it had dried. All the time, she found that she kept singing merrily to herself.

“And she's never second fiddle to a princess or a queen” She sang softly, pulling the thread tight and knotting it.

She pulled a stool up to the table and continued to chop and prepare a breakfast. This would certainly make a proper thank you, she thought. Good deeds should not go unrewarded, there were too few of them about! She needed to make sure that Susan understood that her efforts had been appreciated. Tiffany would be happy to see her again … well, she thought, to have her company again … she saw a lot of her this time! More of her than she had expected … she blushed … Susan seemed nice. Tiffany wanted more nice people around. She would need to find some way of getting her to stay. Or to at least come back. She needed to know that Tiffany had appreciated what she had done for her.

She continued to chop. Lining up bread and fruit and nuts and grain. Oh, she thought, grain! There was still some ale, some of father’s ale (she corrected herself), it lasted didn’t it? Alcohol was like that. Self cleaning … She could … could …

Dawn was on the horizon before Tiffany started to yawn. By the time Susan awoke though and made her way through to the kitchen, Tiffany was fast asleep. Her head in her arms, next to a platter of breakfast foods.

The Night

Tiffany shuddered as she took in her surroundings. She'd never stayed so late in the forest, it felt so different in the darkness. The willow trees seemed to loom over her and the stillness seemed so much more unsettling.

She felt her pulse quicken as she began thinking of every possible evil that could be waiting for her. Even worse, she couldn't get her bearings without the sun, she had almost no idea of the way to walk to get back home now.

Gathering up her things, placing her lute back in its box and stowing her now empty food bag, she picked up her cloak and shook it off. She shivered to hear the echo of the fabric bouncing around the glade. Slowly, tentatively, she put it round herself and fixed the clasp about her neck. Picking up her things, she walked off.

She knew the brook was on the far side from where she came in so, keeping it always behind her, she began to walk through the trees. High above, owls hooted and all around her she could hear scurrying and rustling in the brush. Minutes seemed to turn to hours as she made her way forwards. In time though, through the dullness, lit by the moonlight, she saw another clearing up ahead! She smiled.

She would be home soon, she could ... but no, this wasn't her home. In fact, this wasn't any home.

The break in the trees gave way to a road. Thick, course gravel set into the ground about ten feet across and disappearing off into the darkness in both directions. She must be on the market road. Though she seldom used it, she had been out this way before, meeting deliveries and sending her surplus off with the trade carts.

The sharp stones were tough under her feet and she stifled more than one squeak as she tried to walk on it in her bare feet. She gave up and stuck to the tree line beside it, looking back and forth as she went in case a rider or a cart might come by. At last she came to a trivia where the road, forking off in two other directions, was marked in its centre with a tall wooden signpost. She walked up to it and, going up on tiptoe and craning her neck, read the signs high above her.

She pouted, pulling her cloak tighter around her. She had been walking the wrong way, she needed to go back down the road she had just come up. She took a deep breath. Things weren't too bad and she seemed to be alone, she just needed to follow the road as far as ... she froze. Someone was laughing.

Keeping her back to the post, she looked around, the laughter seemed to echo wildly. No, it wasn't echoing, there was more than one voice. From each corner, men were stepping out of the darkness. They wore dark leather jerkins and wide tricorn hats. Their faces were covered and their hands were gloved. They each wore a pair of tall black boots and at their sides hung knives and daggers.

“What do we have here, then?“ One of them spoke. Tiffany shivered. “Why if it don't look like a frightened little rabbit. Got gold on you, have you, bunny girl?“ The men laughed.

“Please, no, I haven't ...“ she stuttered.

“Hey, boss, I know her!“ Another of the men shouted. “That's the one who lives in the farm by the wood. You know, plays with the fairies in the forest.“

The leader chuckled.

“Oh,“ he said mockingly, “we got ourselves a fairy-wife, have we? Lonely life, playing with folk tales and old wives stories, I bet you haven't been with a man in years, have you girlie?“ He stood over her, pulling down his mask to reveal a grin that glinted with the hint of gold in the moonlight.

“Please, I just want to ...“ She made to leave but was quickly blocked as he placed an arm around her waist.

“No, no, not so fast fairy-girl.“ He leered. “See, there's a toll for using this road at night. The lads and I have expenses, you see, we need money to cover costs.“

“I haven't got any ...“

“What about this?“ He fingered a necklace that hung at Tiffany's neck. Her hand came up quickly to cover it.

“No, please, not that. It's ... precious.“

The leader laughed a deep, mocking laugh. His men joined in.

“Girlie, that's why we're wanting it! We like precious things, they sell well. Still,“ he cocked his head to one side, “it doesn't do to upset a lady.“ His hand moved around her, his palm taking in her curves. “I'm sure we can work out a deal though. My boys and I have other needs.“

The men chuckled.

Tiffany pleaded as she was thrown and spun between the men. They grabbed at her and laughed, pulling her cloak from her and causing her to drop her things. At last she found herself back with the leader, his rough hands holding her tight at the waist as she struggled in vain to run away.

“Left your fairy prince behind, I see, Faewyf!“ He laughed. “Well, don't worry, we'll keep you warm til he comes back!“

He kissed her roughly, plunging his tongue against hers, then threw her down to the ground. Her palms ached as she tried to catch herself but scraped them on the gravel. Tears began to roll down her face as she closed her eyes tight and waited.

She listened as he unbuckled his belt.

Time seemed to stop.

She heard a gasp come from one of the other men though. Opening one eye slightly, she saw a bright light in the darkness. A burning torch, hurled from out the shadows, was spinning and arching its way between her and the leader of the ruffians. He shut his own eyes, blinded for a moment by the brightness of the flame as the torch bounced on the ground beside the sign-post. It lit the whole area and for a moment the man looked almost comical, standing there with his breeches halfway down his legs, hanging over the tops of his tall boots as he tried to shield his eyes.

“What's going on ... ?“ He started to say, but never finished his sentence. A fist came up hard and punched him squarely in the side of the head. The tall man fumbled and tripped, falling hard on the ground as a brown-booted foot kicked him hard on his naked arse, knocking him down onto his chest as he cursed.

Tiffany watched in amazement. A figure dressed in a long, green tunic and wearing tarnished steel armour, was fighting its way through the band of ruffians. The men all drew daggers from their belts as the newcomer whirled, pulling two swords from its belt and knocking several of their hands hard with the pommels sending their blades falling from their grips onto the gravel road by their feet.

The men didn't stop to think though. As one man they charged inwards towards the figure, fists raised, snarling. The stranger lowered onto bent knees, building energy as it then sprung up and spun in the air, the two swords whirring fast. There was a slashing noise and several of the men found their waistlines slacken as their belts split in two. Grabbing at their breeches, the men began to back away.

Again the swords spun, flashing in the torch-light, as the pommels were brought down hard on the heads of two of the nearest ruffians. They tumbled to the ground and began to crawl away. The others, seeing the way the wind was blowing, soon followed, half running, half stumbling into the darkness, clutching their slashed clothing as they went.

“Get up, boy.“ The stranger kicked the fallen leader. Tiffany almost laughed, the fallen man was shivering! She watched as another swift kick from behind brought him to attention. The stranger whispered something in the man's ear and he began to run along after his men.

Tiffany stayed where she was, sitting on the ground, as she watched the figure collect up two or three of the fallen weapons. Each was examined closely in the torch light. Each and every was then thrown away, discarded, into the foliage of the tree-line as one might a piece of rubbish,

Finally, the figure walked over to Tiffany. A gloved hand was extended to her. Trembling slightly, she took it and found herself lifted effortlessly back to standing. She looked up at the face of her rescuer. Long brown hair, tied at the back of a head, its face covered with a scarf of black silk. Tiffany lifted a hand to the material and lowered it.

“Thank you ... ma'am?“ She said in surprise as she found herself looking upon the face of a woman. The tall, athletic build gave way to a soft but weather-beaten face. Multiple small scars told a story of a life well-fought. Brown eyes looked on Tiffany kindly.

“Susan,“ the warrior said, bowing, “and you are ... Faewyf?“

“Tiffany.“ Tiffany curtsied. “Oh!“ She saw, as her head lowered, a patch of fresh blood on Susan's arm. “Did they ... ?“

Susan looked down at her own arm and laughed.

“One of the little wasps had a sting, it seems!“ She smiled at Tiffany. “Still, a wasp sting never worried me!“

Tiffany blushed. “Please,“ she said, “I have ... I could ... may I dress it for you? It's the least I could do really. My home isn't far from here.“

Susan looked Tiffany up and down. Such a small creature to be out alone. Delicate, slender, clever fingers, if anyone could patch her up round here then it was certainly her.

She bent down and picked up the torch, still burning with it's yellow-orange light.

“Please,“ she smiled, “show me the way!“

The Haven

Tiffany walked among the trees. Occasionally laying a palm on one as she passed, feeling the life flowing through it. The soft, dewy grass beneath her bare feet felt refreshing and the sounds of birdsong were all around her.

She smiled, feeling herself calming again, the fears of the world melting away. The forest had always been a haven to her since she had lost her parents. Over the last few years she had come to know the roots, twigs, shrubs and flowers better than her own face.

Absent-mindedly, she began to hum a soft melody, at times closing her eyes as she let memory guide her footsteps through the underbrush.

She stopped as she felt a rustling near her feet.

“Oh, hello my little friend!“ She exclaimed, looking down into the face of a squirrel looking back up to her expectantly.

She fumbled, swapping her box, bag and cloak between her hands as she freed herself up to reach into a pocket on her apron. With a triumphant smile she produced a couple of small nuts which she bent down low and offered to the small creature. It seemed to look her up and down thoughtfully before, at last, it took them and scurried off into the bushes.

She remained crouching for a few moments as she watched it leave then, excitedly, she spotted the very place she had been heading for. Not far off was a clearing. The ground was carpeted with thick, soft grass but owing to the shading of the surrounding willow trees it had never grown more than a couple of inches long.

It was, in fact, the perfect floor for her delicate feet and all over it the greenness of the blades was punctuated with glistening yellow buttercups.

She ran into it, dropping her things down as she went and raising her arms up as she began to twirl and spin in the morning sunshine. She sang like a bird on a branch as she danced in the clearing and many pairs of animal eyes watched her from high branches and low shrubs alike.

In time, she rooted around and took out a cup from her pack and made her way across the wide lawn. At the far side there was a babbling brook that filled her nostrils with the scent of fresh, living water.

She knelt down and lowered her face to it. Placing her hands beneath the surface, she splashed the water up, giggling with delight as it covered her skin and soaked into her hair.

Next, she sat down on the ground and drew up her skirt and shift to reveal her slender legs. Wiggling her toes, she dipped her feet into the water and felt it wash over her.

At last, she dipped her cup and drew water up to drink. Cold as it was, it seemed to warm her right through. She sighed with contentment and made her way back to her things.

She lifted her dark, crimson cloak and shook the dew drops from it before setting it back down as a blanket on the grass. She spun round, swishing her skirt, and sat down on it, drawing her legs to one side. She checked over her food and laid the bag open beside her. She wasn't hungry yet though.

No, she wanted something else first.

She took up the box she had brought and twisted two catches to release the top. Opening it up, she reached inside and drew out an ornate instrument that seemed to hum in expectation as its strings touched the sides of its case.

The sounds of twanging and the sharpening notes of the fine strings being tuned echoed around the glade as many small furry heads looked up from their busy work to see what was happening.

Moments later, a crowd of squirrels, rabbits, field mice, ferrets and foxes had all assembled to watch the concert as Tiffany began to pluck at the lute and sing.

It was a sad song and a happy song, a whisper and a shout, it started in hello and it ended in goodbye, it was bitter and sweet, cold and warm, and it filled the clearing with a soothing melancholy as it rolled across the air.

The words were ancient, she couldn't remember where she had learnt them and she didn't know what they meant, but they brought her peace to sing them so she always did when she came here.

Small, flying insects rose from the grass and began to hover, their slender bodies glinting in the bright sunlight against the deep green of the grass, making the ground twinkle like the night sky.

After a time, she stopped. The silence seemed to roll in as the echoes of the music dissipated. She sighed, smiling though not with her eyes. She looked at the animals watching her. Without even thinking, she began to offer them food from her pack. She broke off pieces of bread, segments of fruit and fragments of nuts which were all very gratefully received.

“Oh, my friends,“ she sighed again, “I do love you all very much, but I wish I didn't have to come here to feel safe. I wish that I had someone at home that made me feel like you do. I love this glade, I really do! But I don't live in a bush like you all do.“ The animals all twitched their noses. They nibbled their food and looked to her for more. “It's true!“ She went on. “I have to live in a house. Only, it's a very big house for one woman.“ She began to eat as well, offering more pieces to each animal as she did so.

Each morsel was accepted gladly and the creatures began to settle and snooze in the field as they each ate their fill. Once all was eaten, Tiffany got up and walked back to the brook.

Washing her hands and her face, she drank in the feeling of seclusion again. Feeling fully at ease, she untied her skirt and let it fall to her feet. Next, she loosened her bodice and slipped it up over her head. Finally, she let her shift drop down and, stepping gracefully out of it, she stepped into the stream, naked. Sitting down, she bathed herself, washing and re-plaiting her hair. She sang as she did, her eyes closed and her ears unheeding.

The sun rose high above her and began crawling its way back down the sky. In time she got out and lay for a while in the sunshine as her body steamed.

Feeling the chill of the afternoon air she re-dressed herself. Then, content, she played and sang and danced again. Foraging around, she picked fresh wild strawberries and ate them. She ran through the grass, picking the flowers and chaining them together in crowns that she wore and discarded.

Her free-hearted joy continued, until ... in time ... she curled up on her cloak letting the breeze wash over her and, so, fell fast asleep.

It was many hours later that she woke again. She shivered in the now cold, dark air of the clearing. It looked different now, changed by the setting of the sun into a wider, more sinister landscape.

Her heart fell as her stomach clenched. The animals were all gone now and the sun had set deep below the horizon.

A shiver ran through her in the cold night air.

It was pitch black ... and she was all alone.

The Woman

Seasons passed and the farmhouse stood defiant to the weathering. Cracks were patched and holes were mended. Shutters were re-fixed and furniture was replaced.

It was a warm spring day when the woman woke up. She stretched in her bed, her slender arms reaching up and tickling the headboard as her small feet wiggled their toes amongst the sheets.

She sighed. Pulling herself up to sitting, she rubbed her eyes and yawned deeply. Somewhere downstairs she heard the ticking of the old clock, then a whirring followed by the frantic sounds of levers and wheels as it chimed out the sixth hour.

Tiffany pouted then turned on her bum and dropped her bare feet down onto the floorboards. Stretching once more she stood up out of bed and made her way over to a small table and chair.

She began to hum gently to herself as she ran her brush through her long blonde hair, listening to the gentle birdsong outside. Next, she plait her now smooth hair, weaving in a time-worn pink silk ribbon that she then tied into a bow at the end. Dipping her hands into a small basin of cold water, she washed her face.

The room around her was quite empty and she sighed to herself as she stood up again and began to make the bed.

She walked to her wardrobe and took out a fresh shift

Loosing her current one at its neck she let it drop down her body, catching for a moment on her chest, she wiggled and watched the linen fall to the floor. Stepping out of it, she stood for a moment, naked, feeling the morning air on her skin.

Looking in the wardrobe she took out a skirt and a bodice too and laid them down on the bed. Throwing the fresh shift over her head, she wriggled it down over her body, sliding her arms into the sleeves, reaching out her hands and then tying it off at the neck to sit neatly on her.

Next, she stepped into her pink, woollen skirt, pulling it up over her hips and drawing it tight at her waist. Finally, she slipped on her bodice, lacing it tight up her back and tying it off with a neat bow.

She looked at herself in the mirror and, lifting herself up on tiptoe, she twirled, enjoying the swish of the fabric as it spun around her.

It was time to start the day!

She picked up her shift from yesterday and folded it before walking out into the hall and down the stairs. She dumped it into a wicker hamper and made her way to the kitchen. Spotless as she had left it, she made her way to the broad fireplace and began to pile fresh wood in its centre. Fiddling with the tinderbox she sparked it into life.

Soon the flames were crackling as she picked up a large kettle and filled it from a heavy earthenware jug. She hung it over the fire and smiled.

Next, she walked over to a large basin filled with now cold water, floating in it were linens and wools that had been soaking through the night. She took each one out in turn and wrung it out, dripping water onto the stone floor as well as plenty onto herself.

It felt cool and refreshing on her skin as she worked her way through the laundry, wringing and folding each item into a basket then emptying the basin out by the kitchen door onto the earth outside.

Pulling the basket of wet clothes up onto her hip, she sang as she made her way outside.

“Good morning, little friends!“ she beamed as she greeted the chickens in the pen. “Sally, Brenda, Hilda, Penny, Laura, Gemma,“ she named them each in turn, “I'll fetch you your breakfast in a moment my dears, I must do my chores first!“

She skipped along, the fresh air filling her lungs.

“Good morning, Major, you old goat!“ She giggled as she grinned at the billy-goat, snoozing by the barn. “Are you dreaming about battles again?“

On she went through the yard. At last she came to the washing line, strung across a patch of grass between the barn and the gate.

She placed her basked down and proceeded to peg the items out, singing to herself as she did.

“The girl I love has a wandering stare

Keen brown eyes and long black hair

She walks in the twilight as the moon shines bright

And the sound of her laughter is a beacon in the night

The girl I love has a dress of green

A pretty little nose and eyes so keen

She calls to the mountains and she sighs to the sea

And she's never second fiddle to a princess or a queen

The girl I love has a will of steel

A hand that's quick and a heart that feels

She's always chasing terrors and she fights off buzzy bees

Then she comes my way each evening and she calls to me

Oh-ho, my dear-y-oh ...“

“Oh hello, my darlings!“ She broke from her song as she watched a pair of rabbits hopping through the long grass. “Are you hungry too? You're quite right, I should stop my day dreaming and look after you all! Very well.“

She picked up the now empty basket and carried it back to the house. Popping it down carefully, she picked up and bag of grain. She lifted herself onto the tips of her toes and she began to dance and twirl through the yard.

She sprinkled the grain among the chickens as they clucked and pecked and fought one another to eat as much as they could. She twirled further, poising arabesque as she bent down to drop a pile of grain in front of the goat who snorted awake and ate it greedily. She continued her dance all the way to the grass where she began to sprinkle the food for the rabbits too.

She smiled a contented smile as she listened to the animals feeding. Back in the house, she could hear the kettle beginning to sing. Twirling on the spot, spilling much of the grain as she did, she began to walk back to the house.

She stopped. Dropping her pose as her feet fell flat onto the ground.

High above her, she could hear the sounds of bells. A gentle tinkling, almost imperceivable over the sound of the wind in the leaves of the trees, but she could hear it. And, what was more, she knew what it meant.

She ran light-footed back into the house. All of a hurry, she threw the basket and the bag down in the kitchen. Hastily wrapping her apron around her hands, she lifted the noisy kettle off the fire and dropped it down on the floor.

She squealed with pain and sucked at her fingers as, around the edge of the cotton, she felt the hot metal had burnt her slightly.

There was no time to stop though.

She doused the fire and hurried upstairs. Back in her bedroom, she picked up the chair from beside her dressing table and placed it next to her bed. Stepping up onto it, she reached up to the ceiling and pushed at a hatch that folded up into the loft space and came to rest against one of the rafters.

With well-rehearsed ease she held tight to the sides of the hatchway and pulled herself up and through into the loft space. Gently placing the hatch back over the hole, she began to walk, bent low, between the rafters.

The heavy thatch of the roof was warm above her as she made her way to a small, open window set low into one end. Crouching down and peering out, she watched the tree line outside.

Not for the first time, she felt incredibly alone.

For a while, nothing seemed to be happening.

Was she wrong? Had she misheard? No, there was some movement. A figure, stumbling out past one of the oak trunks. Steadying himself and looking about. He was calling out. She shrank down, making herself as invisible as possible.

“Hello?“ The man was calling. “Hello!“

She didn't answer. She just waited.

In time, he drew a canteen from his belt and took a drink. Then, finding no-one answering him, he walked through the yard and off down the track.

Tiffany breathed a sigh of relief.

Her heart was racing though. She felt light-headed. She needed a rest. She grinned to herself, she knew where to go. She always felt better there.

Heading back down, through the hatch into her room, grabbing a cloak and a small, handled, box, she hurried on down to the kitchen door.

Putting her things down just long enough to assemble a pack of bread, cheese and fruit, she turned and looked over the kitchen.

She would be back. She just needed a little respite.

Stepping through the door, her feet feeling the energy of the living earth beneath them, she made her way down t to the tree line, across the brook and off into the forest.

The Girl

A chill wind blew off the sea as the sun rose. The taste of salt was in the air, wafting inland past the port, up the river, through the woodland, and all the way to a small clearing where a farmstead stood, damaged but defiant. The timber frame swayed in the spring air, creaking to join the cacophony of the chickens clucking around it. Inside the house, all was quiet and still, at peace … were it not for the desolation.

Patches of grass were still tinged red with blood. Deep boot prints showed frenzied comings and goings with many patches of earth now sunk into deep puddles of mud, steaming in the morning sunlight. A clothes line lay on the ground, ripped from its fastenings, its load now sunk into the dirt.

The door of the house stood open, scratched and stained by events of the night. Inside, not a single a piece of furniture had been left intact. Splinters littered the floor and cold ashes spilled from the remains of impromptu pyres. The men had left nothing whole. They had stripped the home of all its valuables and seemed to take a delight in despoiling and destroying anything else they found. Upstairs, beds had been smashed, hey from the paliases had been thrown everywhere and trampled into the floorboards by muddy, hobnailed boots. Sheets, ripped and shredded by knife and hand, hung where they had fallen, catching and snagging on nails and cracks in the walls.

It was only up in the rafters high above that some sign of life remained. A girl, fifteen years old, dressed only in her linen shift, hugged her knees and buried her face as she tried desperately not to make a sound. Her long blond hair was plaited and tied with a pink ribbon. Both plait and ribbon looked the worse for a fearful night and the girls face was a mask of agony as she sobbed.

She tried not to think about what had happened but it was hard not to. Mother and father had been out in the yard, busily putting away the tools of the day and preparing for rest. She had been watching from her window, too tired to sleep, she liked watching her parents working, she had looked forward to when she would have her own home to care for.

Then they had come.

Men in dark painted armour and heavy boots had run out from the tree line. They had been carrying knives and swords. She’d heard stories about the raiders before, scary stories, told to children that wouldn’t behave.

“Sweep the floor or the north men will take you!”

She shuddered.

They had attacked straight away. She could still see the look in mother’s eyes as father had tried to fight them off. He had caught hold of a shovel and swung it wide to hold them at bay. They had laughed though. She could still hear it, echoing in her mind. They had pointed and laughed at the sad man as he tried to shield his wife. They had laughed even harder as more raiders came up from behind and knocked them both hard on the head with the pommels of their daggers. She had stifled a scream as she watched her parents dragged away.

Then one of them had looked up!

And she had panicked. Listening to the sounds of their hobnailed boots coming into the house. Smashes and cracks as they had fought their way upstairs. She had climbed up onto her bed, balancing a stool on top to try and reach the loft hatch. Even on tiptoe it had been so hard. Her fingers had brushed the wood several times without gaining purchase. And then they had been upstairs! Just outside her room! She didn’t know how she had managed it but with an effort that left her clutching her stomach in pain, she had landed among the rafters. The hatch falling back into place behind her.

She hadn’t moved at first. She had just laid there, listening to the sounds of the men in the room below. “I saw someone!” One of them had been saying. “Leave it!” another had snarled “There’s no-one here! Help the boys downstairs to search the place!”

She’d barely been able to breathe.

The sounds of ransacking had gone on for so long.

Inch by inch she had crawled her way to the farthest corner of the loft.

And there she was now.

She could still see that face. The young man that had looked right up at her. His head and face, cleanly shaved, a heavy scar beside his left ear and a hideous grin on his lips. That night, she had seen the devil himself.

She sobbed.

As the sunlight began to crawl its way across the cottage, small beams of light drifted through the thatch creating pinpoints of light by her feet. Through her tears she noticed that was she was not alone! Panic gripped her heart again but washed over her like a wave as she realised that the movement was from a rabbit and a squirrel. How had they got in? She looked around. A larger opening at the far end of the loft let in a great stream of sunlight where the thatch had come away.

The creatures were looking at her curiously, scrinching their noses.

“Poor thing, she looks terrified!” The rabbit said to the squirrel.

“Of course she is, I saw what happened, we both did!” Said the squirrel. “I don’t see why it’s any matter of ours though.”

“Don’t you have a heart?”

“Of course I do! But she’s safe, isn’t she? She has walls to hide behind. That’s more than most of these creatures do.”

“She’s special, my friend, I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it!”

“Another of your prophecies? Special? She doesn’t look special!”

“Very special. Or foresee that one day she will be the salvation of the whole kingdom!”

The squirrel looked the girl up and down.

“Her? Great warrior is she?” It mocked.

The rabbit began to hop away along the rafters.

“There are many powerful things in this world, friend. More powerful than swords and bows. I foresee her love will save this kingdom.” The squirrel still looked unconvinced. The rabbit seemed almost to smile for a moment. “I tell you what, if I am wrong then I owe you a favour. My favours and valuable, you know that!”

The squirrel scurried over to join the rabbit.

“Very well … friend.” It said. “So what now?”

“Now?” The rabbit thought. “Now we have to set things in motion. She’s never going to do anything so long as she is stuck up here!”

The girl had watched the two strange creatures, clicking and squeaking at each other as animals do. She held on tight to her knees though, still afraid to move. Each sound the two had made, she had winced for fear that someone would hear them.

She squealed when she saw what they were doing.

Scrambling to all fours she hurried over to them, her shift snagging on the splinters and nails in the rafters. The two creatures were chewing away at the thin ropes that acted as a hinge for the loft hatch. She had almost caught them in time but just as she reached it there was an almighty crash. Untied, they had managed to push the wooden panel just so and it had fallen through the opening onto the floor of the room below!

“Oh my little friends! Why would you do that?” She cried out, clapping her hands over her mouth in fear of her own voice.

The two creatures then hopped through the gap, down onto the remains of the bed.

“No, don’t!” She called after them.

She inched her way to the edge and looked down. There were no other signs of movement. Tentatively she lowered herself down. With no handy stool to take her weight she was soon dangling at arm’s length from the hatch. With a squeak she dropped down, landing hard on her feet among the wreckage of her room.

The animals were continuing out through the doorway and down the stairs. She followed, taking in the damage as she went. Happy memories turned to bitter tears as the gravity and reality of the situation sank in.

At last she found herself standing outside, her naked feet warmed by the sunlit cobbles of the yard. At last, she gave in to grief and wept, openly and loudly, without reck or care for who might hear her. Slumping down onto the ground and crossing her legs she sat there for some time.

In time though, all tears must end. Eventually the eyes dry up and life, no matter how much one wishes, must go on. The girl opened her eyes again. The creatures were still there. The rabbit had crawled up onto her lap and was gently nuzzling against her while the squirrel sat beside her, gnawing on a nut.

She stroked them both.

The crack of a smile formed on her face. In spite of her loss, right here right now, she felt content.

“At least I have you two.” She said, her voice cracked but warming. “I’m Tiffany, and I guess this is my house now. You’re very welcome here.”

Once Upon a Princess: Making Plans

Annabella stared at the poster. Had everyone seen it? Had they seen her? She looked round hurriedly. No, no, no, this couldn't happen, she was escaping! She ripped the parchment from the board and hurriedly rolled it up. Turning to leave she almost tripped on the children as they played. "Sorry!" She smiled as best she could and then hurried off behind one of the houses. What was going on? Okay, it was time to think. What did she know? She knew that something had happened. She had been someone else. Someone ... different. Taller? Older? ... Different, definitely different. She had been somewhere else and then something had happened and she woke up as a princess. The king and queen probably did it. Yes, that felt right. They were probably responsible for that voice that kept following her around and narrating everything she was doing too! She scowled up at the sky. What to do now though? That was the question.

This was a small village ... and the poster looked quite new. There was every possibility that no-one had really looked at it yet. That meant she had some time. She just had to work out a plan to get as far away from here as possible. Step one ... hmmm, she thought hard. As she did, she heard a noise. She held off panic when she realised that the sound she could hear was her stomach. She hadn't eaten since breakfast and that must have been most of the day ago now. She could see the sun getting low in the sky, falling behind the trees, the moon was already bright in the sky. Okay, she thought, step one is food. She supposed that the people of the village must eat. Maybe she could ask for something? Hmmm, no, she needed to be careful. She needed to look as inconspicuous as possible. Okay, new step one ... step one, look as much like a peasant as possible. Step two, find food. Beside one of the houses she spied a rainwater butt. Making her way to it and looking at her reflection, she set to work. She plaited her hair like the working women, then she ripped a length of linen from her shift to tie over her head. Dipping her fingers in the damp earth by the track, she began to dirty up her face as much as possible to make it look like she had just got in from the fields.

Once she felt ready, she made her way back to the village green. The children had all left now and most of the hubbub had ceased. She could still hear voices though, and music ... and she could smell freshly cooking food! Turning to the source of it all, she saw a door wide open, yellow light inside was spilling out into the ever-growing twilight. A pub! She hurried over. She realised that she hadn't heard from the narrator in a while. Thanking her luck for that, she made her way in, trying her best to look as un-princess-like as possible. There were a few whistles and cat-calls from the patrons as she made her way up to the bar. She dodged as one hand tried to smack her on the bum. Getting to the bar, she was met by a middle-aged woman with a weather-worn but not unkind face. "Evening, miss." The woman said, spit-polishing a glass. "You're not from round here are you?" "No, errrm, ma'am." Annabella said meekly. "You looking for a room?" The woman eyed her up. "Here, are you in some kinda trouble?"

"Yes, I mean, no, I mean ... yes, I was hoping for a room, and food if possible but no, I'm not in trouble. Just a simple peasant girl in need of a goof night's sleep." The woman looked unconvinced. "Does this simple peasant girl have a name?" "Errrm, Anna!" Annabella smiled as politely as she could. "I'm Agnes," the woman put down the glass and patted Annabella on the shoulder. "You got any money, Anna?" Annabella looked crestfallen. "Thought as much. Tell you what, you wash the dishes and peel the taters and you can have dinner with me and sleep out in the stables. Deal?" Annabella gleamed. "You mean it?" "Certainly, child," the woman smiled a motherly smile, "this is no place for a young girl like you to be out at night. There's ruffians round here!" "Oh, yes! I've met them!" Annabella stopped herself. "That is, I mean, I saw them. They looked scary." "Come on dear, I'll show you where the dishes are."

Agnes lead Annabella through to a ramshackle shed on the back of the building. In it was a large basin filled with cold water along with an enormous pile of plates, cups, bowls and assorted cutlery. Annabella set to work as best she could, though this all felt quite unusual to her. About half way through the pile she stopped to wipe off her forehead and breathe the night air. Stepping out behind the pub she looked up at the stars. "I don't know what you're looking at me for." Came the voice of the narrator. "You've got a plan haven't you? Certainly looked like you did. I was looking forward to seeing what you did next!" Annabella pouted. She was broken from her frustration though by a sudden, loud noise from the other side of the building. A drum was being struck and a man was shouting. Peering round the corner she saw something that gave her a very good idea of how she might slip away ... "A recruiting sergeant!" She grinned.

Once Upon a Princess: A Light at the End of the Tunnel

"Annabella closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle." The narrator's voice seemed to echo around Annabella's mind. It was true though, she HAD closed her eyes. She WAS praying for a miracle. "Please," she whispered under her breath, "not this, anything but this." She braced herself for Sham's rough and uncaring hands ... but nothing happened. Tentatively she opened her eyes just enough to see. It was then that she realised that she could hear something too. A commotion outside. Pots and pans were being banged together like some sort of alarm system and she could hear running feet. Sham had let go of her and was looking to the doorway as one of his ruffians came running in. "Sir! It's the troopers!" the young man said, standing stiffly and looking like he thought he would be killed for news like that. Sham roared. In his anger he flailed his arms and Annabella found herself pushed backwards on to the bed, narrowly avoiding the tray of food. "Damn their hides!" Sham shouted. "How did they find is ... ?" His words trailed off though as he left the room.

"Annabella lay on the bed, afraid to move. She wondered 'was this the miracle she had prayed for?'" The narrator's voice returned. Annabella wasn't in a mood to fight it this time though. She slowly rose from the bed and walked over to the doorway. "Walking to the door, little did she know that the guards had all fled, ordered by their captain to man the defences." Oh? Annabella's face drew into a smile. Okay, maybe she could use this. She stepped out into the corridor. The cave roof dripped damp onto her as she looked around to confirm the narration. Yep, no-one at all! Okay, onwards! She walked on, bending low and treading lightly. "The princess made her way down the tunnel and towards the entrance. Little did she know that that was exactly where the men were lying in wait for the troopers! If only she had known about the back entrance ..." Annabella stood rigid and looked around. The tunnel did indeed go that way too, though it seemed to run downhill all the way. She felt panic building again. She didn't want to meet any more of the ruffians though so, gritting her teeth, she made her way down.

"Miraculously, Annabella seemed to find the way to the secret back door! She walked down the passage, somehow seeming to know that at the end she would find the heavy wooden door set into the living stone." Annabella did so, grinning as she went. Behind her, she heard the sounds of fighting. Clashing and clanging as swords met knives and clubs met staves. It was far away though, and about to get a lot further! Slowly she tried to raise the heavy iron bar that bolted the door. Her thin arms and slender hands struggled under the weight. She frowned as she tried her hardest but it was no good. Looking around, she spotted various bric-a-brac littering the tunnel. Fearful that the sounds would come closer any moment, she tried everything she could, throwing lumps of wood and loose pebbles at the door in her anger to escape. Slumping down, she was about to give in to despair when she spotted the broken handle of a broom. With a final squeak of determination, she stood up and grabbed the short staff hard in her hands. Moving to the door, she pushed it hard under the bolt and began to lever it up. It was working!

Just then though, her heart began to race. She could hear footsteps ... coming closer! Running, booted feet. Loud, deep voices. "This way, lads! We'll get out through the ... oh, hallo!" It was Sham. His head was dripping blood from a fresh cut and there was a manic gleam in his eyes. "Look what we have here!" He chuckled. Annabella froze, gripped by fear. Then, with an almighty heave she threw her whole body against the staff. It snapped as it lifted the bolt clean out of its holders. Sham leapt for her but growled in pain as the heavy iron bar fell hard on his feet. The door swung in. "You little ... !" But he couldn't finish the sentence as Annabella pushed the wooden door hard into his face. He fell down onto the stone floor as Annabella ran out and pulled the door shut behind her. She didn't stop, she didn't think, she just kept running. Off into the forest, among the trees, away from there.

In time she found herself slowing down. A pain in her tummy cut across her as fatigue from her flight set in. She stumbled but continued on, walking down a dirt track through the forest. Up ahead, she could hear sounds of people. These didn't sound anything like the ruffians though. The voices were mingled and many. A village? Okay, this would be better, she thought. She could find somewhere to hide out and plan her next step. She made her way closer. Small, thatched roof houses became visible through the thinning tree-line. In amongst them was a well around which children were playing. Adults went from building to building, carrying food and hay, guiding sheep and pigs, generally going about their business. Annabella breathed a sigh of relief. "Morning, missus!" The children called to her as she walked up to the well. She smiled at them and drew a bucket of fresh water. Cupping her hands, she drank and washed her face. Then she saw it ... A notice-board next to the well had a heavy parchment pinned to it. "The Lost Princess" it said, above a perfect likeness of herself. "Reward, twenty-thousand gold marks!"

Once Upon a Princess: Put to Work

"Princess Annabella was in trouble now. The men surrounded her, evil grins on their faces as they looked her up and down. Had she wandered into a trap? This was certainly a dangerous place to be. But would they treat her better if they knew who she really was? She ..." "Oh shut up! You're not helping!" Annabella shouted up to the sky, hoping to silence the narrator's voice. "Who are you talking to, girl?" The leader of the ruffians growled. "You two!" He pointed to two of his men. "Search the trees, maybe that prince is about here still!" The men ran off dutifully, drawing daggers from their belts. "Now then, my pretty." He turned back to Annabella, grabbing her roughly and pulling her to standing. "You are a dainty little thing, aren't you! I can see why a prince would take a liking to you." He squeezed her hard on the bum. Instinctively, she slapped him hard across the face. She recoiled though, he looked angry and the rest of his men were now laughing at him. Time stopped as the dust settled. The leader laughed. "She's got spirit, hasn't she, lads!" He bellowed, a grin forming on his scarred face. "Let's see how proud she is when we've pulled off the wrapping paper though, shall we?" She tensed as he began to tug at her clothes. She could hear the stitches rip under his strong grip.

"Please! No!" She squealed. "I beg you!" The leader stopped and leaned in close to her face. "That's more like it." He chuckled. "I like a girl who can beg. Do right by me, girl, and I can see you're treated well. I do well at this trade and my bits of tail are always dressed in the best silks." The smile faded from his face. "You try and give me any more of that lip though and I may just pass you to the men instead!" She gulped. His smiled returned. "Now how about a kiss for rescuing you?" She didn't stop him, she was too afraid. He held her hard around the waist and dipped her as he kissed her roughly, his tongue pushing into her mouth. She squeaked and squirmed but this only seemed to encourage him. He lifted his head, keeping her in the dip. "Blimey lads, if she don't taste just like strawberries!" He let go and she fall down on the ground again. "Package her up! I think I'll keep her!" A couple of the ruffians pulled her up by her arms and tied a rope around her wrists. The other end was then tied to the reins of one of the horses.

The leader was still barking out orders to his men. The two that had gone searching had returned empty handed and without news. For that, they were hit twice each with the pommel of his sword. He then turned and walked over to Annabella. He chuckled as he launched himself up onto the horse's back. Turning round, he looked down at her. "Well then? Do you want a ride?" She looked hesitant. "Your other choice is to run along behind! Those look like good boots, they should last the journey!" He cracked the reins and the horse began to trot. Annabella felt the rope tug at her wrists and she fell forwards, her face hitting the rump of the animal. The leader pulled the reins and the horse stopped. "Well?" He asked her. She nodded, tears rolling down her face. With one arm he picked her up and placed her behind him. She struggled to hold on though as he cracked the reins again and this time brought the horse to gallop. Slipping and sliding, she felt her body ache as she made a constant effort to avoid falling.

At eternity passed as they moved through the forest. The trees were thick and the sky above growing dark by the time they came to a halt outside a large cave in the side of a steep embankment of rock and mud. "Down you get, girl!" The leader roared as he pulled at the rope, causing Annabella to slide down onto the ground. She stumbled but held her balance just well enough. This seemed to please him. He smacked her hard on the bum to force her to stand straight. "Good girl! I think you'll make a fair wife yet! My name's Sham and I'm the leader here, you get that? It may not be much but it's home. And if you want to live well, then you do as you're told! Get that?" She nodded. "Now! Inside! Show me how good you are at filling my belly and then I'll see about filling you up too!" He untied her rope from the horse and lead her inside. The cave contained a ramshackle set of rooms, each laid out with mis-matched furniture and odd-ends of stolen goods either in use or lined up for market. He took Annabella through to a far room, in which there was a bed, a table, some papers and various boxes and barrels of food and drink. He untied the rope from her wrists and grinned. "Welcome home, dear!"

Lying down on the bed, Sham looked her up and down again. He seemed pleased. "What's your name?" He asked. "Errrm ... Anna ..." she began, he cut in though. "Anna? A pretty name for a pretty girl. Well then, Anna, get to work!" She looked around at the various panoply of mess and disorder. She began to gather a plate and load it up with bread and meet and cheese. There was a large, ornate goblet too which she filled with a deep, earthy red wine that she found in a cracked bottle on the table. The whole place stank of damp and dirt. He seemed happy for the moment though, maybe if she could play for time then she could think of a way out of here. "Blimey, Anna!" Sham said in surprise as she walked over with the food. "Look at those dainty digits!" He held her hands and looked at her slender fingers with their soft skin and painted nails. "Anyone would think you were royalty with hands like that!" He smirked. "Now strip off!"

Once Upon a Princess: A Simple Country Girl

"Princess Annabella galloped through the woods. Her face a picture of grim determination. Her hands holding tight to the reins of the liberated stallion. The sunlight grew dimmer as the canopy of leaves overhead grew denser. Her heart raced with fear and excitement." Annabella was starting to ignore the narrator, she didn't know quite how she was always being watched but she knew she had escaped! And now she had some serious business to deal with. She knew for sure she had once been someone else. Until very recently in fact. She couldn't remember who though and what little she could recall was getting dimmer, like a shadow on a sunny day or a dream just after waking. She was NOT a princess though, she remembered that much, maybe she had been a peasant woman? Or maybe a pirate! Or a baroness? Or a witch? Urgh, thinking about it was hard ... and right now she needed to find a direction. Up ahead she could see a small clearing. Maybe there was a house?

"Annabella slowed to a trot as she approached the abandoned cottage. The air felt thick with mystery as she looked upon the remains of a life abandoned in haste. She wondered what great need could have driven peasants from their homestead in this way." Annabella scowled upwards at the narrator. She reined in the horse and slipped down onto the ground. Hitching the reins to a post, she left the horse to graze idly on a pile of fresh hay. She took about four steps towards the cottage and squealed as she stumbled forwards, catching herself on the lime wall. Her heels had sunk down into thick mud which was now coating the hems of her dress and cloak. She needed better clothes for this. Keeping her palms flat against the wall, she eased her way over to the door. It was already ajar. Pressing against it, she fumbled inside.

The cottage seemed homely enough. There was even some food out on the table. "Hello!" She called out. The sound echoed, disturbing only dust. "Is there anyone here?" She tried again. A crow cawed at her from a window ledge then flew out. She looked down at herself, dishevelled from the ride. Sitting down beside the table she began to take off some of her more cumbersome garments. She wiggled her toes in the free air, that was better! She dumped the cloak on a chair and let her heavy pink gown fall to the floor. Barefoot in her shift, she stepped over onto the floor. It felt cool on her naked soles. She smiled. With a sigh of contentment she began to explore the house. There was little enough to see downstairs, just a makeshift kitchen and the table and chairs. A ladder led up into the thatched loft. Cautiously, she made her way up it. At the top she saw, through dim light, a bed and two wardrobes of clothes.

From one wardrobe she could make out some simple, rugged, peasant clothes. Much better! She grabbed at a few items, a woollen kirtle, a hat, some heavy stockings and a pair of tall boots. The woman these had belonged to before her must have been quite a few sizes bigger than her but a few minutes work with a belt and some nearby pins and she was dressed. This felt good, far more like herself! Maybe that was it? Had she been a peasant girl, stolen by a royal couple unable to conceive their own child? Raised as their own daughter just so they could marry her off to have babies and continue their household? Yes, that could be it! "I bet I could have been something out here if it weren't for them!" She said to herself. "I bet I could have been a highway woman, stealing from the rich and living a wild life!" She smiled. Well, she had a horse and a more practical outfit, one not try?

She made her way back down the ladder. Bundling up her old clothes into a handy nearby box, she made her way outside to check on the horse. She gasped and shrank down behind a barrel. There were men walking around. One of them was unhitching the horse and taking it over to their own. "A fine specimen!" He called out. "Keep an eye out though, lads, the rider can't be far away. A prince, I'll be bound! Probably out here sampling the local wenches. We may be able to catch him with his breeches down and sell him back for a pretty penny too!" Annabella remained crouching as she stepped slowly backwards, inching her way around to the rear of the house. She would have to make a run for it. She would have to .... "Hallo! What do we have here!" A rough voice may her spin on the spot, slipping in the mud and falling hard on her bum. She looked up at the leather-clad for of one of the ruffians. He smiled a wicked smile as two more men came running round. "Well," said the leader, "I don't know about the prince, but I'd say we've definitely found us a pretty little sample of our own!"

Once Upon a Princess: Fun at the Fair

The day had drawn on and Annabella was now alone again ... well, she was in a large room surrounded by servants, all waiting in their proper places and watching her ... but alone anyway. Her father and mother, the king and queen, had left to check on the preparations for the tournament. Sir Percy, her dashing hero and potential husband, had also left so that he could prepare his weapons and his horse for the joust. Somewhere from the air around her she heard the narrator again. "Princess Annabella was excited for the tournament. Oh, to think that the champion would be given her hand in marriage as his prize for victory! Her young heart fluttered at the thought." Annabella scowled. "Now now, princess, let's not go through all that again." The narrator chided her. "Besides! You have to go and get ready too." Annabella looked up in disbelief. "Fine!" She got up. "Good girl," the narrator said warmly as the sounds of pages being turned seemed to echo around Annabella's mind, "Princess Annabella made her way to her chamber to change for the tournament." Annabella walked out of the great hall. Two ladies in waiting followed her.

"Okay," Annabella thought to herself, "play along, maybe there will be another way out. So long as she doesn't realise I'm planning anything then I get to be in control of myself. I'm damned if I'm going to let them marry me off! I don't want to be a wife and a mother to a hoard of heirs! I'm ... well, okay, I don't remember who I am ... but it's not this! I was definitely someone else! I was definitely not a princess! I just need to spot the perfect opportunity to escape!" Up in her bed chamber the narrator continued. "Annabella would have to pick a dress both practical and beautiful for the attending the tournament. She would need to appear the belle of the show so that the knights and princes would know just what they were fighting for!" The ladies in waiting brought out many different dresses for Annabella to choose from. Longer, shorter, pink, blue, yellow, wide, narrow ... Annabella thought it would never end. She picked a practical looking pink gown in the end and the ladies began to dress her in it. "Oh, good choice!" The narrator said approvingly. "Now, for the accessories. Annabella knew she would want to show her support for Sir Percy." Again, the ladies shows the princess many options of hats and scarves and jewellery. Annabella selected those that reminded her most of Sir Percy's own cape and styled armour. Finally, the ladies brushed and dressed her hair and she was lead back downstairs. Ahead of her, the heralds were announcing her coming.

"Make way for the Princess Annabella!" She smiled to the people she passed. In time she came to the courtyard of the castle. There were jugglers and jesters and musicians moving about and entertaining a large crowd of people. The sounds stopped though as she approached. The crowd hushed and watched her walk up. "Please, errrm, don't stop!" She said tentatively to one of the performers. "I'd like to watch!" The jester bowed so low that his belled hat tinkled on the flagstones. "Anything for the most beautiful princess in all the nine kingdoms!" He said and proceeded to tumble and caper to the music of a flute, snare and lute as the crowed cheered. Annabella watched, enthralled, it was really quite impressive. She ... no ... wait ... he? ... whoever she had been, they had been to fairs like this before where people would dress up in medieval clothes and perform. It felt quite fun seeing it all here. She smiled. The music quickened and she found herself clapping along in time as another jester joined the dance and the two together began to weave and duck and dodge each other in a display of great agility. At last the music halted when the two knocked heads and tumbled backwards, one into a hay pile, the other bum-first into a bucket of water. There was silence. The crowd seemed to be holding its breath. Annabella giggled as she looked at the two men, drenched and bedraggled. The crowd joined in and soon the whole courtyard was laughing. The jesters came together, linked arms and bowed to Annabella. She applauded them and then walked on.

The narrator picked up again. "Annabella moved through the fair, admiring the many players and jesters." Annabella smiled. "That's good, she seems to think I'm playing along now." She made her way on further still to the great drawbridge of the castle. Beyond it, out on the field, she could see pavilions and canopies set up around a large arena. Bunting and flowers were at every corner and along every edge. More musicians were playing here as well, a quicker tune with more drums. Several men in partial armour were practicing with swords and axes as she neared. She smiled at them and they stopped to salute her. One slipped in the mud as he did so and Annabella giggled again. The men all laughed at their clumsy competitor, even the man himself and all-in-all the mood seemed to be very relaxed. Nearby she saw a large, canopied stage area, on which sat two now-familiar faces. "Daughter!" The king proclaimed, standing and watching her approach. She curtsied to him. "I am here, father." "Praise be! This is a good omen for the day!" The king beamed, walking down and embracing his daughter. "All is prepared and, more so, my daughter is ready on time!" He chuckled. "Come girl! Sit with thy mother and myself!" Up under the canopy the queen waved. "Please, father, if it please you ... errm ... thee. May I walk among the tents and see the fighters first?" The king's laugh was all the heartier. "My daughter! Keen to see if she can find a better knight than Percy? Gladly girl, with my blessing, go and look upon the men that are competing for thy hand!" He embraced her again and returned to his seat. She curtsied and walked on.

There were many pavilions, and at each she saw armour, weapons, squires and horses. "Horses!" She thought. "Okay, be cool, this is it. You just need to find a way to ..." "What ho!" A voice sounded like a trumpet from behind her, nearly causing her to trip from the surprise. "Princess Annabella!" It continued. She turned and saw that it belonged to a very tall knight in black armour. He knelt down and, taking her hand, kissed it. His bristly moustache tickled her skin and she smiled. "Truly though art more fare than e'en the heralds of this tournament made thee out to be! I am Prince Simeon, your majesty, and I hope that I may win thine affections later today!" "I ... that is ... we thank thee, prince, for ... errm .... thy gracious reception of our person. But tell me ... us ... errm ... is this thy steed?" "Verily princess! The best stallion of all the nine kingdoms! Faster than lightning and smoother than silk!" She grinned. "May we ... may we sit upon it?" The prince stood and smiled at her. "To see thee upon mine own steed? Verily, sweet princess, please, let me lift thee!" He held her hard at the waist and with little effort, raised her up and sat her down on the saddle of the horse. Yes! She'd done it! "We thank thee, prince!" She said with a manic grin on her face. Then, with a crack of the reins, she was off! The horse was well trained and responded immediately. He hadn't lied either, it was certainly fast! Within moments the castle, the tents and the shouts of the prince were all far behind her as she disappeared into the deep forest ...

Once Upon a Princess: A Change of Heart

Annabella watched entranced as the old woman stepped over to the guards. With a wave of her hands and a crackle of green light from her finger tips, they slumped against the walls fast asleep. "Come with me," the old woman cackled, "let's see what we can do for you!" Annabella followed. She struggled a couple of times, still feeling unusual walking in heels, but the old woman would always stop and wait. Finally, someone helpful! "Oh dear ..." Annabella heard the narrator tut. "Shh, you. Don't grumble just because I've finally found someone who wants to help me rather than force me to play this silly game!" The old lady didn't seem to notice this hushed conversation but simply smiled patiently as Annabella caught up again. "Suit yourself, princess," the narrator said with a chortle, "I'm sure you'll do fine with Old Madam Mal!"

In time they came to a low wooden door set into a cracked patch of wall. Behind it, a narrow stone stairway circled down to a deep cellar. Madam Mal lead Annabella down, lighting torches with a click of her fingers as she did so. The whole place began to glow with a pale green light. The cellar was filled with tables and benches covered in bottles and cups each filled with strange, glowing liquids. In the very centre, a cauldron was bubbling gently over a large wood fire. Come here, my dear, and I shall help you! Just make a wish, wish to no longer be a princess, and Mother Mal shall make it real!" The old woman laughed a dry, thin laugh."Yes! Anything! Just make this end!" Annabella grinned. "Are you sure about this?" Annabella heard the voice of the narrator ask. "Shush! Yes! I know what I'm doing ... well ..." Annabella watched as Madam Mal drew a cup of glowing water from the cauldron. "... I think I know what I'm doing ..." The cup was offered to her and Annabella took it. Her arms trembled as she looked at it. "Just make your wish and drink the whole draught! And you will find yourself ... changed."

"I don't want to be a princess anymore, I want to be ... whatever I used to be ... I want this to be over." Annabella repeated as she lifted the cup. "Have it your way." The narrator sighed. "Little did Princess Annabella know that once she drank the potion she would be changed into a ..." "Wait, what?" Annabella was snapped out of her focus. "Changed into a what?" "Come on, my dear, drink up!" Madam Mal urged her on. "No, no no no, you don't get to drop a hint like that and not say!" Annabella called up to the ceiling, almost dropping the cup as she tried to invoke the narrator. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you knew what you were doing!" The narrator scoffed. "Go on, drink up like the nice witch says!" "Witch!?" Annabella squealed, dropping the cup which shattered on the flag stones and began to fizz as the liquid poured out. "How dare you!" Madam Mal turned on Annabella, dropping her kindly voice and almost seeming to growl. "You precious little princess, you think we're all here just for you!" Annabella started to panic.

"Halt!" A voice came from the stairway. "Leave that dainty lady be, foul fiend!" It was Sir Percy, sword in hand. Annabella ran to him. Madam Mal hissed. Annabella hid her face, holding on tight to Sir Percy. "See? He's not so bad, is he?" The narrator beamed. Annabella nodded, sobbing. Sir Percy led her back up the stairs and down the corridor towards the great hall. "I still don't want to be a wife ... or a mother! ..." Annabella thought to herself "... but he's not so bad, is he." Her tummy rumbled. "I have to do something!" She turned on the spot and looked up into Sir Percy's face. She smiled and pulled a piece of fabric from a pocket. "Sir Percy, please, take my favour for the tournament today." Sir Percy bowed low and kissed Annabella on the hand. Despite herself she blushed. The two of them made their way arm-in-arm into the hall.

"Sire!" Sir Percy approached the thrones of the king and queen. He bowed and rose smiling. "By your daughter's will, I shall fight with her favour in the tournament today! I hope sire that I shall win her everlasting affection as well as your approval!" The king stirred from a grumpy introspection. "Eh now? What's this? My daughter? Approving and engaging in the tournament?" He smiled and began to stand. Sir Percy looked round to Annabella. "Oh!" She said, remembering herself. "Errrm, yes! Father! Errrm, sire!" She curtseyed. "I am absolutely on board with this, yep!" The king's face broke out into an enormous grin as he hurried over and hugged her. She felt herself lifted and twirls in the enormous man's arms. "Well my boy!" He said, putting her down and looking at Sir Percy. "Any young man who can win my daughter's favour AND win such a tournament as this is certainly a worthy successor to me! Come let us feast!" Annabella's tummy rumbled again and her eyes lit up. Before the rest could catch up she was back at the feasting tables and scrumming herself. The king laughed a happy laugh.

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