The girl walked out of the brightly lit house, silent like a mouse, hoping that no one would notice her absence and call her back in. They always had something for her to do, even this late in the evenings.

She peeked into the near perfect darkness of the enormous garden surrounding her father's house, watching the supple stems of grass and flowers sway in the increasing wind, thinking that maybe she should stay inside. She could sense the weather changing-- soon it would start raining. But a little rain was better than staying in the house, the girl decided quickly, then, barefooted, she tip-toed down a short marble staircase and made her way down a long, white gravel lane meandering across the garden, the heaving sea of blooms, towards a distant copse of trees where her mother's grave was.

A clasp of thunder, announcing the approaching storm, startled her. She wiped a couple of tears running down her cheeks into the sleeve of her once white shirt she wore under a threadbare, bright blue frock, and took off running, reaching the lone grave in no time.

There she hid under her favourite tree-- a hazelnut that had grown unusually large for its kind. She remembered planting it when it was just a sprig brought to her by her father from one of his travels a few years ago, just after he remarried.

The girl sobbed at the thought of her father's new wife and her two daughters, the three women who had made her their maid the moment they moved into their house. She never complained to him about it, though; she knew how much he loved his second wife and did not want to spoil his happiness.

Another thunder disturbed her thoughts, sounding much closer now, even as it started to rain. The first huge drops of water fell to the thirsty, dusty ground, dispersing the late summer's heat, but, despite starting to feel cold, she refused the idea of going back home. Anything was better than returning, even sleeping inside this tree... she thought, realising for the first time that the tree's trunk was cracked and hollow inside. Guided by the lightning closely following the previous one, she pushed through the long grass interlaced with the tree's lowest branches and walked inside it.

The place she found inside the trunk was a perfect hideout, a small, cosy, wooden cavern. No one would ever find her there. She smiled as she looked around the warm and dry nook, illuminated softly by a strange light coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

She turned round in a near complete circle before she realised that she wasn't alone.

"What are you doing here?" she asked the dark-haired boy sitting at the other side of her den, not far from what seemed to be another crack in the tree's bark, yet another entrance.

"I could ask you the same," he said fiercely, his black eyes rooting her to the spot. "Who are you? Speak!"

She took a deep breath. The boy looked wild and scary, but this was her tree, and if he wanted to stay here, he would have to behave nicely. She had had enough of people treating her like this at home.

"You first," she insisted, her legs itching to run away from him. But she just clenched her fists at her sides and stood her ground bravely.

The boy shook his head, surprised by this girl's courage. He observed her carefully as he stood up, stretching to his full height. He was at least a head taller and a couple of years older than this short, blonde, blue-eyed, and fragile-looking girl. A pretty girl at that, he noticed approaching her slowly, then towering above her menacingly.

She could not be older than fourteen and had been crying recently; her cheeks were still damp. Yet here she stood now, brave, unflinching, not permitting his manners to intimidate her.

Feeling ashamed of himself, he smiled at her.

"Let's start again. I'm Heathcliff."

She nodded, unclenching her fists, making him realise that she was scared of him. Making him want to... apologize and reassure her...

"I'm Ella. A cinderwench from that manor," she said, pointing towards the opening through which she had walked inside. "This is my tree. How did you get in here?" she inquired, voice shaking.

"Well, it must be our tree then; it's been growing behind the house ever since I set my foot to Wuthering Heights for the first time. I just never noticed that its trunk was hollow until tonight."

"Welcome to our tree then. Nice to meet you," the girl said, smiling at him warmly, surprising him by her cordiality. Not many people treated him like this-- like an equal, like a friend... "Shall we sit down?" she offered.

Then she sank to the floor even before he replied, her legs unable to hold her upright any longer. She found this boy dressed in clothes at least as rugged as her own, intimidating but interesting and mysterious at the same time.

"What are you hiding from... Cinderella?" he asked, his black eyes, now sparkling with humour and mischief, holding hers as he sat in front of her, cross-legged.

"My stepsisters and their mother," she said, smiling at him again, accepting the nickname. "You?"

"Rain," he said quickly, letting his gaze drop to the floor. Then, as he looked into the girl's disarming sky blue irises, the most honest pair of eyes he had ever seen again, he added, "And Hindley. Since he got back home from college, he's even more jealous of me than before." He lifted his dark fringe a fraction, revealing the angry bruise from their last fight, making Cinderella gasp.

"My stepsisters are awful, but they never beat me, at least. Why don't you run away if they treat you like this?"

He shook his head, looking away from her, "Where would I go? And there's Cathy too..."

"Oh... I see," Cinderella said, looking away from him. Somehow, she did not like him mentioning another girl.

"What about you, why don't you leave?"

"Because of my father. He is not the man he used to be while my mother lived, but I could never leave him... And my stepsisters too, they are not that bad, they are... they are like that, that's it." She shrugged.

Heathcliff shook his head. This girl was... incredible. She seemed to be too good, too trusting and forgiving for her own good.

They kept talking until the storm raging outside, exhausted itself completely.

"I should go home," Cinderella said then, sighing, "they'll be looking for me." She stood up and walked to the crack in the tree trunk she had walked through before.

There she paused, quite unwilling to part from him. They had just met, but this Heathcliff already felt like the closest thing she had ever had to a friend.

Heathcliff followed her to the opening and outside into her world, unwilling to let her go.

Through the gaps in the foliage moving restlessly in the cool wind left behind by the storm, illuminated by the light of the full moon and thousands of stars, he observed a large, brightly lit house situated at the end of the long lane winding through an impressive garden, and far away, spreading on a hilltop raising from a lush forest, a huge, fairytale-like castle, complete with a small town sitting at the foot of its hill.

"It looks like a nice place," he murmured, comparing it in his mind to the old, timeworn manor surrounded by windswept moors and only a few trees strong enough to resist the constant, gusty winds.

"I'm sure yours is prettier. Because of your Cathy." Cinderella smiled at him, then she was gone.

"Wait, will we see each other again?"

"I hope so!" she called back to him, surprised by the way her heart stumbled when he asked.

●

Heathcliff stood there, watching her retreating silhouette, until she disappeared inside the house. He watched her look back towards the tree, unable to see him through the thickly grown branches, before she walked into the house.

Smiling uncharacteristically, he crossed the tree and paused by his own exit. The sun was just about to rise, the birds hiding in the smattering of twisted trees growing on the undulating plain were beginning to stir and chirp shyly, lazily at first, then more enthusiastically as the sun rose higher.

Heathcliff let his gaze sweep over the bleak heath like the never ceasing wind, caressing the well-known landmarks of the place he had never left since Mr. Earnshaw brought him here nearly six years ago.

His smile grew wider at the recollection of those days when the old man, for some reason, loved him as much as he loved his own two children, if not more. The boy remembered well how pleasant his life used to be back then, his only trouble being to invent a new game, a new adventure for himself and his Catherine.

Everything was different now. Hindley returned from college when his father died, as the sole heir of Wuthering Heights, with a wife, a haughty, insupportable woman in tow.

And Cathy... She had changed since her brother's return somehow. His childhood soulmate began to drift away from him, when Hindley, now that his father was no longer alive, started to treat Heathcliff like his servant.

He shook his head and squared his shoulders before he headed back to the Heights.

They never understood how it really worked, but since that stormy night, Heathcliff and Cinderella met inside that tree very often.

The dark, serious boy dreaming of revenge and the optimistic girl whose happy, loving, and forgiving spirit not even the greatest injustice of her stepmother and sisters could break became quite inseparable. Soon, they knew everything about each other, all about their hopes and dreams.

It was Cinderella who pulled Heathcliff through his darkest moments when his heart shattered because of Cathy, who, after having spent weeks at Thrushcross Grange returned home changed, polished and haughty, too similar to those people Heathcliff disliked so much, becoming a perfect stranger to him. He could see her infatuation with Edgar-- the son and heir of the Lintons, the owners of the Grange, a pampered, cowardly boy-- growing stronger, even though she refused to admit it. Seeing how he was losing her made him become even more gloomy and unhappy.

For Cinderella, seeing Heathcliff so broken because of another girl wasn't easy. She realised some time ago that somewhere along the way, her friendship for him turned into love... She was driven to the obscure, all-consuming fire burning within her friend like a moth to flame. But she could not admit it, not to him who had never noticed. Who never saw her as anything more than a friend and confidante despite all those nights they spent together talking, or just sitting silently side by side inside of their hazelnut tree, brooding over their unhappy lives, or even sleeping, huddled next to each other on the ground covered with straw and dry leaves.

Then, one day, the girl realised that she... needed to let him go, to districate herself from the power he had over her. She had to force herself to stop hoping that he would ever come to realise that she loved him; his head was too full of his Cathy for that.

Cinderella needed to move on. Find someone she could love, for whom she would feel at least a fraction of the love she felt for Heathcliff, and settle down, move away from this house where her life was becoming unbearable.

It was then that Heatcliff appeared in their tree one night, a large sack slung over his shoulder.

"I'm leaving," he said, cupping her face with one of his palms. "I can't stand it any longer. Maybe once I come back home, rich, she..."

Cinderella brought her finger to his lips even as he kissed her on her forehead, not wanting him to talk about Cathy now.

"I understand," she said, tears threatening, even though she knew that it was better this way. "Good luck, Heathcliff," she whispered, running away from the tree.

Three years passed since Heathcliff left, and Cinderella forbade herself to think about him. Every time she visited her mother's grave, she tried to avoid looking at their tree. That wasn't easy, as each of its countless leaves seemed to scream his name at her each time they trembled in the wind, but she never set foot inside of it nonetheless.

Then, the news about their prince's will to finally find himself a bride spread throughout the kingdom.

The young prince, whom Cinderella met a few times in the town where she was sent to sell flowers and fruits from their garden in the market, was charming enough to make her, like every young girl living in his realm, daydream. He never glanced at her, of course, as he sped across the square on his horse, followed by many laughing, beautiful, well-dressed young ladies.

However, she liked the prince enough to wish to dance with him at least once, Cinderella realised, as she handed the note inviting all the unmarried girls of the kingdom, rich or poor, noble or humble, given to her by one of the king's messengers, to her stepmother.

"Girls, this is the moment we have been waiting for. One of you two, my darlings, will marry the prince, I'm sure! Quick, call all the maids. The first ball is in a few days. There is no time to have new dresses done, but I'm certain that with a few ribbons and jewels, we will do wonders with some of your older ones."

"Mother, what about me?" Cinderella asked, "I do not have a proper dress," she stammered, looking at her old, everyday gown which she had worn for too long, its sleeves and hem too short for the almost eighteen years old girl, its style inappropriate for a young lady.

She blushed so fiercely that the colour was visible even through the layer of ashes and cinders her cheeks were covered with when her stepsisters laughed at her.

"And what would you need a new dress for?" Her stepmother asked seriously, barely suppressing her own laughter.

"For the ball, of course..." Cinderella whispered, feeling mortified as she realised that they never meant to take her with them.

She ran away from them, followed by their booming laughter echoing off the stone walls of the large hall.

Cinderella did not stop until she reached her tree and entered it without thinking. There, she cried herself to sleep.

From that night on, it became her sanctuary again, like all those years back. She only left it to attend to her duties, slowly moving her few possessions from her father's house into the hollow trunk. Because even without Heathcliff, it was the best place, filled with memories of her only childhood friend.

On the night of the first ball the girl cried so inconsolably that she hardly saw her stepsisters, wearing beautiful dresses, entering the coach, followed by her stepmother and father, through her tears and the hazel leaves concealing her from their view. The man seemed to be looking for his daughter for a while but when his wife told him something that Cinderella could not hear, making her daughters already seated inside the carriage laugh, he only smiled, and, shaking his head, followed them inside.

Cinderella cried so hard that at first she did not notice anything out of the ordinary; she did not see them, sitting very still around her and observing her silently with their shiny black eyes at all.

●

Her birds, her little friends who often helped her with her chores, now sat around her on the ground, perfectly still, only their little heads revolving to the side as if they were waiting for her to talk.

"I'm sorry. I'm sad..." she apologized, finally wiping her tears away.

When they all nodded in unison, as if they were waiting for her to explain, she added, "I wish I could go to the ball with them."

One of the birds chirped loudly and took flight then, and a few others followed him. Soon, they were back, carrying the most beautiful gown Cinderella had ever seen. The uncountable layers of the gossamer fabric it was made of looked like the mist rising from the meadows and fields just after sunrise, tainted by the first hues of a new day. And there were shoes, and a short veil too...

"Is it for me?" the stunned girl asked, and as the birds chirped again, their tiny wings pointing towards the hole in the tree's trunk, urging her to go in and get changed, she did not hesitate.

"Thank you!" she told them once she was ready, her eyes filling with tears at the sight of the tall, white horse they had led here for her from her father's stables.

Then she was off, riding as fast as the wind towards the distant castle.

The following day she had to cover her radiant smile every time someone in the house, maids, her stepsisters or her stepmother, mentioned the beautiful, mysterious stranger their prince danced with the whole evening, before she disappeared at the stroke of midnight.

It didn't take long for Heathcliff to realise that it was not Cathy whom he really loved once he took his distance from Wuthering Heights.

Cinderella was the one to whom his thoughts kept returning. He wished to go back to tell her how he felt, but he couldn't. His pride would not permit him if she accepted him, of course, to take her away from that rich house she lived in and make her a beggar's wife.

But now, three years later, he finally had enough money to offer her if not rich, then at least a comfortable life. His feelings for the girl grew over the time, strengthened with their separation, and today, as he started on his way back, he hoped... he hoped that she at least would not laugh at him when he proposed to her. He had been such a fool before...

On the night of the second ball, Cinderella was given a new dress-- yellow and golden like a summer day at noon.

The horse was ready for her when she walked out of the tree and she reached the castle in no time.

"So we meet again, my beautiful lady." The prince stood in front of her the moment she entered the vast hall filled with wonderful music and richly dressed dancing couples, as if he had been waiting for her by the door.

She curtsied, smiling at him shily through her veil, allowing him to lead her to the middle of the dance floor.

Her feet hurt as she went around her chores the following day, but she was happy... nearly like she had been in the times when she used to meet with Heathcliff. Her heart ached at the thought of him, making her realise that she would never feel exactly like she used to feel in his presence with anyone else. She shrugged the thought off, convinced that he must have forgotten her a long time ago.

The week flew by in expectations, and worries about the last ball. When the evening finally arrived, Cinderella was considering not to go. This was the night when the prince was supposed to choose his bride and she was anxious... she didn't want to... she knew that if he asked her...

No. She didn't know what she would do if...

Cinderella liked him. The prince was a charming young man, but... Would this feeling she held for him, which was not all that her heart was capable of, as she well knew, suffice to keep them both happy, forever?

"I... should not go tonight," she told her birds. But they were already laying a new dress at her feet, a beautiful creation made of all hues of sunset, streaked with gold and midnight blue, the colour of Heathcliff's hair under the moonlight.

The gown was simply wonderful... She sighed, unable to resist.

"All right, this is the last one anyway..." she whispered, mounting the impatient horse a while later.

When Heathcliff reached their tree, not even thinking of paying a visit to Wuthering Heights first, he found it transformed. He smiled at seeing how Cinderella furnished the hollow trunk during his absence.

There were dishes, books, and blankets on the floor in the part she used as her bedroom. And her clothes, several threadbare dresses and two beautiful gowns...

Did he come back too late...? His breath hitched at the thought. His Cinderella had been a charming girl three years ago; she must be a beautiful young woman now... Has she... met someone else in the meantime?

He started when he heard a horse neighing outside.

Heathcliff walked out into the night filling the world on Cinderella's side of the tree. All was dark and quiet around him, except for the horse and the magnificent castle perched on the distant hilltop. Every single window of that building was illuminated, and he imagined hearing faint tones of music carried to his ears by a gentle breeze.

He did not hesitate. Shedding his bag and the travelling coat, he mounted the horse and took off, flying faster than the breeze towards the castle.

On reaching a sweeping, white marble staircase, he dismounted, hesitating.

What now? They would never let him in, dressed as he was, dusty and dishevelled after his long journey. And was she even here? Something was telling him that she was, and he should not leave her here alone...

He sat on one of the wide steps, burying his face in the palms of his hands.

"Will you tell me your name tonight?" the prince asked Cinderella the umpteenth time.

"But I have already told you, Your Highness. My name is Cinderella," the young woman said, adjusting the short veil she wore every time she came to the ball, as she did not want anyone to recognize her.

"But that's not a real name..." the prince sighed sadly, realising that this beautiful creature simply did not like him enough to tell him the truth.

He meant to propose to her tonight, but all of a sudden, he knew that she would not accept him.

"I... should go home, Your Highness," she said, perceiving the change in his mood and not liking it. She stopped in the middle of the dance, making everybody stare at them.

"Will you at least show me your face?" he asked after a few moments of silence that descended between them, like that midnight blue veil of hers.

She shook her head as she took a few steps away from him, then bolted from the room.

Cinderella was already outside, flying like a startled bird down the large staircase, when the prince finally found his way through the dancing couples, losing all trace of her momentarily.

She gasped as a sharp pain shot through her ankle-- when she turned around to see if she was being followed, she stumbled and lost her shoe, hurting her foot. Cinderella would have fallen if a dark shadow hadn't separated itself from the rest of those shrouding the staircase, steadying her in his arms.

There was no need to ask; her heart told her who this tall, strong man was long before her mind would believe it.

"Heathcliff," she whispered, letting him scoop her in his arms and lift her on his horse.

He sat behind her, urging the horse into a wild gallop the exact moment when the first confused servants sent by the royal couple and their son in her pursuit appeared on top of the stairs.

"You saved me," she said as they dismounted by their hazelnut tree.

"I did not save your shoe." He smiled at her, his hands at her hips as he helped her off the horse.

They let the animal run free and hid inside the tree's trunk even as the first lights went on in the house at the bottom of the garden.

"What will happen now?" Heathcliff pulled her closer into him, wrapping his arms around her, his heart soaring when she did not protest.

"Now... " she said shakily, leaning into him, "he will most likely marry one of my stepsisters."

"What about us...?"

"You tell me, Heathcliff," she said, looking up at him. "Why did you come back?"

"I love you, Cinderella. I have always loved you, I was just... blind... and foolish..."

She laced her fingers through his midnight blue hair and pulled him down for a long kiss.

"I love you, too," she whispered as they pulled away for breath.

When they woke up at sunrise, they found a new crack in the tree's trunk.

They walked through it, hand in hand, without hesitation, hoping that beyond, they would find a place where their past would not cast shadows over their future. A place where they could start from the beginning and hopefully find their happily ever after.