Snow White and the Seven Souls

The forest enveloped Snow White and the huntsman, welcoming undead and human alike, as they walked its well-worn paths. After an hour or two the pair split off from the main trail to take one less traveled. It led to the Emerald Hollow, as Snow knew well. And yet she could not shake the feeling that the huntsman’s true destination lay elsewhere.

“Why did you agree to this errand, Mr. Tredwell?” Snow asked. “Surely you have other things you could be doing on a fine day such as this.”

“When the Queen commands, I obey,” the huntsman replied, kicking a fallen branch out of the way and avoiding Snow’s gaze.

Snow stopped moving, contemplating Mr. Tredwell’s back as he walked ahead. “I won’t be coming with you any farther,” she said, loud enough for him to hear.

Without turning to face her, the huntsman replied, “And miss the sight of the Emerald Hollow? What could be so pressing a task, if you do not mind the inquiry?”

“I have somewhere else to be. There is someone I am looking for, and I am so close to finding them. I cannot let the opportunity pass.”

“I see. Then let me escort you, Your Highness-” Mr. Tredwell turned back now, only to find that Snow had vanished. He was not sure how he should feel about that. Grateful that the task of killing the King’s only child was out of his hands for the time being, but ruing the fact that she would go on to harm others because of his failure. He waited there, ten seconds... twenty... and then he hurried off after her, though he saw no sign of which direction she had gone.

The direction Snow had taken was actually a roundabout route that twisted down and up hills and dells where no paths led, across brooks and over rocky outcroppings. Eventually Snow White came to a newly constructed cabin hidden behind a steep, verdant hill. The scene was magical. Beams of golden late afternoon sunlight streamed onto the cabin roof and onto the grassy surroundings, which were speckled with wildflowers of white, blue, and red. A thin plume of smoke exited the chimney top almost invisibly, and the wide windows were all opened, the shutters thrown wide to let in the clean air.

Snow entered the cabin for the first time feeling as if she was coming home. She was tempted to say it, even. But there was no need for her to shout, “I’m home!” as so many people do when they return to their abodes to greet their loved ones, for her four housemates shuffled over to meet her as soon as she crossed the threshold. “Dalor! It has been such a long time. And Sifrod, Quinn, Gaius! Ah, it feels good to be all together again, as we should be.”

The four men embraced Snow White each in turn. But they could no longer really be called men, nor could they even speak more than a grunt or two. Snow had not created more creatures like herself when she had bitten them. She had stored away a large part of each of these four within herself, but she had not left them enough to subsist in any shape that could make them recognizable. So they had come away from the palace and the villages, left everything they had loved behind, to create a new home here in the wild.

And they had done a marvelous job of it. The cabin might not have been fit for a princess under normal circumstances, but things were simply not normal anymore. Snow made herself at home, finding that a large bed had been set aside for her on the upper level above the kitchen. There she laid down for a rest whilst the men started preparing the evening meal.

When Snow awoke it was dark. She climbed down the stairs into the candle-lit main room, finding her four friends waiting for her. They were not reading as they waited. They were not sewing. Not whittling or whistling or wandering or even waltzing. They were not playing the piano (there was none in the house) or the accordion. They were staring.

And what they were staring at, Snow found, was an apple. A shiny, red, beautiful and delicious-looking apple. It sat on the windowsill behind the kitchen sink. It seemed to be staring back at them.

“He’s here,” said Snow, her voice a mix of excitement and trepidation. She smoothed back her hair with both hands. “Ambrose, show yourself!”

“Now is that any way to treat your handsome prince?” A mocking voice filled the cabin, but there was no sign of its owner. “Are you not going to even try the apple? I promised you a taste of it, didn’t I?”

“Let me see you first,” Snow said. “Properly this time. In the light.”

Everyone looked towards the front door as a shadow darkened it. And then a man who could indeed be described as handsome strode into the center of the room. His hood draped limply backwards, revealing his face in full. His blond hair picked up the candlelight magnificently, emphasizing his ever-dark eyes. He had a slight cleft in his chin that Snow had not noticed on their first meeting. She wondered absently, just for a moment, if he had truly been a prince once upon a time.

“Here I am. Have you missed me?” Ambrose said cheekily.

“You have no idea how much,” Snow replied.

“And these are your minions, I have no doubt. Been a busy little bee, have we? But I see that you do not know how to control yourself. Unless you wanted them to look... that way. I suppose it is my fault for letting you live. I would have come back for you, eventually.”

“I have no doubt that you would have. But I was tired of waiting,” Snow said, slowly approaching Ambrose as she spoke. When she was close enough, she gently placed her arms around his neck, as if to resume their interrupted dance.

Peering into those deep pools of midnight, Snow saw in Ambrose’s eyes what she had been seeking for months, and years. She saw herself, yes. And she saw her mother, Yori.