Pauper Syndrome

2

The forest is dark, empty, and exceedingly cold. My breath comes out stifled as my lungs struggle to breath without making a sound. I cannot afford to stop. The timing right now is too crucial, all I can do is focus on running as far away from the palace as possible. There shall be no hope for escape once they catch me, my only reward being marriage to that horrible pile of horse dung.

Step by step, I carry my weight gently down the mountain, careful not to get caught up in any invisible branches. It is not before long that the scenery around me turns from that of intricately trimmed rosebushes and extravagant walkways to sheets of dark forest. Black and woody, the dirt underneath my feet is loose and piled into humongous heaps, almost like baby mountains. The trees are few but large enough to block off any carriages they might send after me. I try to keep my balance as best as possible, but it is no secret that running away from the palace is the last thing taught to a Princess. Inevitably, I feel a wild branch between my two clumsy feet. With all four of my limbs flailing in the air as if I were a bird that has yet learned to fly, I stumble head first down a dark cliff.

I heave out a high sigh as my acrobatic stunt comes to an end and the ground flattens out. Thankfully there were not too many twigs along the way down, although I must say my back hurts from all the rocks scattered about like hidden landmines. My lips taste of dirt and my face feels dusty and sandy, a sensation I'm not too unaccustomed to especially on days when the maids overestimate the amount of face powder needed for my face. Slowly, I sit myself up and, pushing aside the heap of fabrice to reveal my two bruised legs, push myself off the ground.

"See?" I mumble to no one in particular. "That wasn't so hard."

I take a step forward. To my great demise, that is all my body takes before I register myself crashing back into the dirt. My knees are too weak. My body that's only ever been trained in dancing is crumbling a party like a glacier in a desert.

But I am not given much time to dwell on my physical incompetencies as suddenly, out of nowhere, I hear the shuffling of leaves. In that moment, my brain gained the magical ability to recount all the horror stories I've been told in the past, most recently one starring a golden haired Prince. My heart pounds against my chest, so much so I am scared it will jump out of my body.

It is impossible that they find me this quickly. But then again, they are the royal forces.

Again, the shuffling continues. I quickly sit up. I gulp.

I refuse to be reunited with Elliot!

Slowly, I begin to inch away from the sound. Then quicker and quicker until my back hits a wall and I am pinned against what is coming. My hands clench into fists. What could this be? So long it's not him, I don't care!

"Stay away, you toad!" I shout as loudly as I can. My throat aches and my brain buzzes. What I screamed must have been weaker than what I had hoped. The sound does not halt. I hold my breath, not at all prepared for what I am about to encounter. To tell the truth, I am desperately hoping that what hops forth is but a baby bunny.

In the moonlight, a figure appears behind a tree. It stands tall and still, blending perfectly into the serene forest. Slowly, it walks forth. It is difficult to see what what it looks like at first, but as it approaches me, I am able to see its facial features. Alas, it is not a bunny. In fact, he is a tall and muscular man with a face that certain people might even deem handsome. A pointed nose and high cheekbones. His ruffled, golden hair gleams in the starlight. When I squint I can almost see his eyes. Deeper than the sea and darker than the night. They are a shade of blue that is impossible to distinguish in the night.

"Excuse me?" he asks, his voice stern yet strangely lighthearted, curious. In that moment I feel the sudden urge to wrap my arms around him in a tight embrace.