Snow White and the Huntsman (10 page)

“Tell me, Huntsman,” she gasped once she’d finally caught up. She spit the words at his back. “Do you drink to drown your sorrow or your conscience?”

Eric whipped around, his cheeks flushed from so much grog the night before. “What concern is it of yours why I drink?” He lunged at her, coming just inches from her face.

She didn’t flinch. “I believe I have employed you to take me somewhere.” She smiled, knowing she had a point.

The Huntsman backed away. He turned and cut at the dense woods with his two axes, swiping at the branches with more force than necessary. A few broken twigs flew at Snow White’s face. “And I believe kings and queens and dukes and princesses have no business sticking their noses in common folks’ lives.”

“But you served the Queen.…” She stopped herself, remembering his face in the clearing. He’d grown so quiet when Finn mentioned his wife. “Did she pay you well?” She tried to get back to that conversation. What was the agreement? What had he wanted? The Queen had made a promise even she couldn’t keep.

Eric paused, resting his hand on a tree trunk. “Not well
enough,” he lied. Then he turned back to his path, bringing his axes down once more. “Royalty does that, you see. They pay others a pittance to fight their battles for them.”

Snow White shook her head. She knew he was trying to change the subject, but she no longer cared. Who was he to speak ill of her family? “My father fought his own battles, thank you,” she snapped.

The forest opened up before them. The Huntsman lowered his axes. As they started through a dirt clearing, he picked up his pace, trying to lose her. “Your
father
.” He let out a smug laugh. “
He’s
the one who let the devil in the door. It’s
his
fault the kingdom has plunged into darkness.”

Snow White jumped over a rotting tree stump. She leveled her gaze at Eric’s back, the blood rushing to her face. “Watch your words, Huntsman.”

He turned, meeting her glare. “Watch your step.” He pointed at her feet. She noticed the dirt was sandier than it was in other places. Her feet were sinking into the ground. First her toes went under, then her ankles, until the sand was nearly up to her shins.

Eric stood there, looking so completely satisfied with himself. “How much does it take for a princess to ask for help?” He laughed. He crossed his arms over his chest, tapping out the seconds with his right foot.

“How much does it take for a brute to offer it?” Snow White snapped back. She tried to free her legs, but it was too late. She’d already sunk down past her knees. The sand felt colder with each inch she went down.

Eric rested one foot on the solid tree stump beside her and offered her his hand. His expression was just a touch softer than before. He lifted her up and out, reaching beneath her arms to get a better grip. When he set her down in the field, she was covered with sand.

She wiped herself off and shook the sand out in the grass. She would have thanked him, but his insults were still fresh in her mind. He hadn’t known her father, and he certainly couldn’t comprehend what Ravenna was capable of. That woman—that
witch
—had sat beside them at every meal, holding her father’s hand. She’d told him about how her mother had grown sick just as Snow White’s had. She’d read to Snow White and William when they were bored and thrown parties for the nobility. The king had made a mistake. He’d been fooled. In some ways, they all had.

When she turned back to Eric, he was kneeling in the grass. He handed her some folds of leather. Then he yanked one of the laces from each leather arm brace. He tossed them into her lap.

“You’ll freeze to death before we get anywhere. Use these to make some leggings and boots.” She held the leather up as a question. “It’s the padding from my vest.”

Then he picked up a small, dirt-caked nugget from the ground and rolled it between his fingers thoughtfully. “What is that?” she asked, hoping it wasn’t what she thought it was.

“A fewmet.” He pronounced it
foomay
. “It’s from a deer,” he replied. He shot her a look, as if to say
please don’t make me elaborate
. Snow White watched him knead it
between his fingers. Then he brought it to his nose, breathing in its scent. She turned away, disgusted. It must have been droppings.

He stood and pushed past her. He moved quickly, starting toward a patch of trees. The air was different there, the fog so thick she could barely see five feet in front of them.

“Stay here,” he said, leaving Snow White behind to fashion some crude clothing for herself.

His stomach had been grumbling all morning. He squeezed the deer dropping between his fingers. Deer didn’t usually come inside the Dark Forest, unless they were scared into the trees by another predator. He supposed this morning he’d gotten lucky. Whether the girl was hungry, she hadn’t said, but she didn’t look as if they had fed her well in the tower.

He kept his eyes on the ground and tracked the animal as he’d done a hundred times before. He moved quickly and quietly, pulling an axe from his waist, ready to throw it should the deer appear. He saw one dropping, then another, as he walked farther into the dense white cloud.

Beyond the fog, the air was clear. There was an outcropping of boulders before him. One opened up to a massive cave. The wind changed, and he heard a familiar voice.

“Eric,” she called out from inside the mouth of the cave.

That voice. Hearing it out loud, after so long, raised goose bumps on Eric’s skin. He dropped his axe, letting it fall to the earth with a clatter. Sara stepped out of the darkness. She was wearing her favorite dress, the purple fabric
more vivid than it ever had been when she was alive. Her dark brown hair framed her face, cascading down her back in thick waves. The full lips he’d kissed a thousand times before were right there in front of him, waiting to be kissed again.

“Are you … ?” he asked, glancing down at her body. She was whole again; the wound where she’d been stabbed was gone. There was no gash in her neck.

Eric wiped his eyes. It felt more real than any dream. “Am I … ?”

“Touch me and see for yourself,” Sara said. She held out her hand, beckoning him toward her.

Eric glanced around, looking beyond the trees.
Don’t …
he thought, reminding himself where he was. It was all an illusion now—a picture conjured up by the Dark Forest for some unknown purpose. But as he turned back to Sara, seeing that sweet face again, he couldn’t resist. He took a step toward her, closer to the dark cave.

She held out her arms for him. “Where were you, Eric? Come to me now. Protect me now.…”

Something inside of him broke. Tears filled his eyes. He remembered the day so clearly, the sight of Sara’s body when he finally arrived at the house. Her eyes were open. They were covered with a thin gray film. Her lips were parted. Her hands were cold to the touch. Everything she was—all the joy she’d held inside her—was gone.

“I’m so sorry,” Eric whispered. His voice was shaking as he stepped toward her. “Please forgive me. Give me peace.…”
She was no more than a few feet away now. He wanted to run his fingertips over her smooth skin. He wanted to hear that sweet, bubbly laugh, to feel her curl up beside him in bed, warming her cold feet against his calves. He wanted to smell the scent of her hair—the lemon juice she put in it during the summer or the rich gardenia oil she dabbed behind her ears.

He reached for her, her fingers nearly touching his, when something struck him in the back of the head. He fell to his knees. He touched the sore spot, wincing from the pain.

“She’s not real!
Do you hear me?
” Someone was yelling so loudly, it hurt his ears.

He looked up to see the girl—Snow White—clutching a large stick. She was yelling at him, her face panicked. She pointed at the cave. Eric turned, but the place where Sara had been standing was empty. There, in the darkness, he saw monstrous black wolves huddled together, their long muzzles barely visible in the dim morning light. Their yellow lupine eyes peered out at him. He kicked the ground, shuffling backward, trying to get away.

“She’s not real.…” Snow White repeated. “She’ s—”

“I heard you!” Eric yelled. He stared at the place where Sara had stood, just moments before. He’d been so close to touching her. All he wanted was her hand in his, the warmth spreading out between their fingers. He grabbed the bottle by his side and drained it, letting the last of the grog warm his throat. But even that couldn’t help him. The tears came fast, and he turned away, making sure the girl didn’t see.

T
hey moved quickly through a field of tall, rubbery grass, parting it before them to allow passage. It came up to Snow White’s chin. She swatted it away with both hands, but she could only see the back of Eric’s head as he reached the other side of the field. He was rubbing the spot where she’d struck him. The blood had dried, clumping in his hair.

She had heard him talking to someone beyond the trees. When she’d found him, his face was tear-streaked and his hands were shaking, one reaching out for something she could not see. “Sara,” he’d kept saying as he took another step toward the cave. How had he not seen those monstrous wolves? They were three times the size of normal ones, and their eyes glowed a horrible yellow. How had he not heard their low growling as he’d approached them? They’d been snarling, their upper lips pulled back, exposing their sharp teeth.

Snow White stepped out of the long grass, kicking away the blades that clung to her newly clad legs. She was grateful she had something now to protect them from being sliced into with each slap of the grass.

The Huntsman hadn’t turned around since they’d left the cave. He hadn’t spoken to her or commented on the apparition he’d seen. He’d just kept moving, cutting at stray branches and bushes with his axe.

“She’s the one you bargained for—Sara. The one who spoke to you,” Snow White started. She knew he didn’t want to talk, but she couldn’t pretend it hadn’t just happened. Had he seen her there? What kind of illusion had it been? It was clear now his wife wasn’t being held captive.… “Is Sara dead?” she asked.

The Huntsman whipped around. He pointed at her with the end of the axe. “You’ll not mention her name again,” he snapped. Snow White stepped back, her pulse racing. The sharp blade was just two feet away from her neck.

The Huntsman lowered it. “Just don’t,” he said, his face sad.

He pulled his knife from its sheath and passed it to her, as if to change the subject. She shook her head no, but he pressed it into her hands. “Here—feel its weight. One hand to the other.”

She stared at the dagger, noticing that the tip was curved slightly inward. It was heavier than she’d thought it would be. The Huntsman’s eyes were fixed on her, watching as she turned it over in her hands, then pointed it toward the ground. “Now hold it—business end pointed toward me.”

His face was more serious than before. His straw-colored hair was tucked behind his ears, his beard covered with dirt. She held the knife aloft, the tip of the blade aimed just above his waist. “Why are you—?”

Before she could finish, he lunged at her. She stepped back, raising the blade so it pointed at his throat. He paused just inches away from her. Then he smiled for the first time all day. “Good. Now which is your lead foot?” he asked, circling away. He rested his foot on a nearby tree and studied her.

“What do you mean?” she asked. Behind him, the forest was eerily quiet. Two crows watched them from a low branch. He jumped at her again. Instinctively, she put her right foot forward, not letting him gain any ground this time.