Page 20 of Snows Sinful Seven

For hours, I run, only slowing down when the rain does and the sun starts to rise.

I’m so tired. My feet are cold, wet, and sore. My dress is soaked, ripped, and muddy. I’m a mess, a broken mess. I’ve never felt so defeated in my life.

Only when I know I have to be miles and miles away from the palace do I stop and allow myself rest.

I find a rock and climb upon it, crossing my legs and pulling one of the bags open. Grabbing an apple, I take a vicious bite, moaning as my stomach screams at me in hunger.

There’s nothing Princessly about me right now as I take a water bottle, uncap it, and chug the contents until there’s nothing left.

When my breathing settles, and my mind is a little more clear, I take a look around me.

All I can see are trees, trees, and more trees. I start to cry as I come to understand that I’m lost. I have no idea where the village is or where the nearest town is.

I could be deep within the forest by now. And that wouldn’t be good. Because someone could easily get lost here for days— weeks.

And I don’t have enough supplies for that. I only have a few changes of clothes and enough food for maybe a few days if I ration it.

As I sit here, crying, realizing just how grave my situation is, I wonder if I might have been better off just staying back at the palace. Maybe I could have talked to my father and made him a deal. I could have signed something that assured him that I wouldn’t take the throne, that it was all his.

But that would have been wrong. My father doesn’t care about the townspeople, but I do. If what Regina said is true, and I have no doubt it is, then that throne, this kingdom, is rightfully mine.

I can’t, in good conscience, let my people suffer. No, I need to keep going. I can’t run. Running would be giving up. What I need to do is find shelter and come up with a plan.

A plan to stop my father before he ruins everything. Before he forces Regina to do things she doesn’t want to do.

The thought of him forcing himself on her makes me sick. I stare at the apple in my hand, half-eaten. I’m no longer hungry, but I force myself to finish, I don’t have food to waste.

When I’m done, I toss the core and climb off the rock.

I wipe the tears that sting my eyes, shivering as I try and decide where to go. Looking up, I see the sun is rising to my left. That is east. The village is east of the castle; therefore, going in that direction might be my best bet.

So, I take a chance and follow the rising sun.

I’m cold, which is made worse by the wet fabric that clings to me. I pull off my sopping cloak and shove it into the bag of clean clothes. Thankfully, the warmth of the sun soothes my skin as I start my journey.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been walking before my head starts to spin, my eyes drooping. I need to rest, to get some sleep. There’s no way I can continue on this way.

My legs are aching, feet throbbing. How stupid can I be to wear flats when running away through the woods.

After this, I may rethink my love for dresses and start wearing pants and shirts. And even get myself a pair of sneakers. All things I’ve never worn a day in my life.

Just as I’m about to take a break, I notice smoke in the air. It can’t be the village, I know that area far too well.

But smoke means one of two things. It could be someone camping in the woods who made a fire. Someone who could help me find my way.

Or, it’s a cottage. I know some people do live in these woods.

As I start to rush towards the smoke, using what little energy I have left, I pray that it’s a cottage and I’m not about to walk into a trap of my father's men.

I trip over a few branches and rocks, catching myself on the trees as I go. It leads me up a little hill that I almost don’t think I’m able to climb. But when I get to the top, I see it.

I laugh in disbelief. A cottage. A cute cottage nestled deep within the forest.

Seeing it gives me hope and relief. I take off running, nearly falling more than once. I don’t care, I’m so close, I can’t stop now.

I’m a panting mess as I clumsily come to a stop at the front entrance. Not caring how early it is, I start to pound on the door.

“Hello!” my voice is hoarse like I’ve been screaming for hours when this is the first time I’ve spoken all night. “Hello. Please. I need help. Anyone.” I bang and bang, but no one comes to the door.

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