Arthur took a moment to examine the ropes on the bridge once they reached the other side. As rickety as it had felt when they were crossing it, it now seemed much too solidly constructed for him to be able to adequately sabotage, especially with the tools he had at hand and the presumably limited time he had to work with. He had no idea how far behind them the wolf might be and Little Red Riding Hood seemed impatient to keep moving.

The pathway leading onward was narrow but well worn, and as they made their way back into the forest, Arthur couldn't help but admit it was a beautiful day in Fairy Tale Land. The air was pleasantly warm, but a gentle breeze kept the temperature from getting too hot. The leaves on the trees were vibrant and colorful, and the sunrays broke through the foliage in such a way that gave everything a soft inviting glow. And then his jaw really dropped when they came to a section where giant mushrooms sprouted from the ground on either side of the path. Some of the smaller ones were about the size of reclining chairs, while others towered over their heads like enormous umbrellas.

Arthur started peering expectantly at the tops of the huge fungal growths.

"Are you looking for something?" Little Red Riding Hood asked.

"Yeah," Arthur replied. "I'm wondering if there's going to be a big caterpillar sitting on top of one of these things and smoking a hookah. Wait, is Alice in Wonderland considered a fairy tale?"

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about," Little Red Riding Hood said.

"So what exactly is a fairy tale?" Arthur pondered. "Is the Wizard of Oz a fairy tale? There's witches and talking animals in it. What about the Chronicles of Narnia? Or the Lord of the Rings? Do they count?"

"You're a strange man, Arthur," Little Red Riding Hood said.

"I'm strange?" Arthur said. "You live in a world with talking pigs, and bridge trolls, and cross dressing wolves. I'm not the weirdo here. Now where do you suppose that caterpillar might be hanging out at?"

He was so preoccupied with looking up that he almost tripped over a small gnome who had jumped out from behind a toadstool and blocked the path in front of them.

"Sorry about that, sir," Arthur said as he patted the gnome on the shoulder. "Didn't see you there."

"No need to apologize," the gnome said. "It was my fault entirely. Say, you look like a gambling man!"

"I'm not," Arthur said. "I've never bet on anything in my life. My friend Frankie wanted to bet a quarter on who could do the most pull-ups when we were in fifth grade, but that was way too rich for my blood."

"Oh come on," the gnome pleaded. "It'll be fun! I'll wager a bunch of gold that I happen to come into possession of, and you can put up your firstborn child. See? Just a friendly little wager. All you have to do is guess my name. I'll even give you three tries."

"Gee, I don't know," Arthur said. "I don't have any kids, but maybe someday I might. On the other hand, if I had a lot of gold, maybe I could afford to quit my terrible job. Aw, what the heck? You've got yourself a bet, Rumpelstiltskin. It is Rumpelstiltskin, right?"

"What?" the gnome's face fell. "How did you know that? You cheated!"

"I've just heard about you," Arthur said. "You're kind of famous. Now where's my gold?"

"You want your gold?" Rumpelstiltskin sneered. "It's in a big room in a castle. I spun it out of a giant roomful of straw. If you want it you're going to have to go get it yourself."

"Is it at Prince Charming's castle?" Arthur asked. "Because we're on our way there anyway."

"No," Rumpelstiltskin grinned. "It resides in the castle of King Winston the Somewhat Worthy. It's a mere seven day trek to the East. You're welcome to go fetch it."

"It sounds to me like you're welching on our deal," Arthur said. "I believe that entitles me to break your kneecaps."

"Let's not be hasty here," Rumpelstiltskin said. "The gold is yours to claim whenever you wish. But in the meantime, as a token of my integrity, I will give you this gold coin." He pulled out a shiny round disc with a picture of an elf stamped on it.

"I'll take it," Arthur said as he grabbed the coin and shoved it in his pocket. "That thing's got to be worth a little something at the pawn shop."

"I'm getting tired of this gnome," Little Red Riding Hood said. "Go away. You're wasting our time!"

"Yeah, and you're ugly and you smell bad, too," Gretel called out as he slinked away and disappeared behind a fern.

"Are you talking to him or me?" Hamlet asked.

"Well, you do smell bad, but you're at least kind of cute," Gretel said.

"Gee, that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a long time," Hamlet smiled.

Arthur was about to comment on how sad that was, but then he thought about how long it had been since anyone had said anything particularly nice to him, and decided to go back to looking for caterpillars.

After another half hour or so of walking the mushrooms started to thin out, replaced by particularly imposing trees with massive trunks covered in blankets of moss.

"My feet are starting to hurt," Gretel whined. "Are we there yet?"

"Actually," Little Red Riding Hood said as she squinted her eyes and peered ahead. "It's just right up ahead."

The path petered out in a little clearing with a two story cottage situated right smack in the middle of it. It had cute yellow trim and a thatched roof. A small flower garden ran alongside one of the walls and a thin trail of smoke came out of the chimney.

"Looks sturdily built enough," Hamlet said after giving it a solid once over. "We should definitely take shelter in there."

"We should be careful though," Arthur cautioned. "The wolf might already be inside."

Little Red Riding Hood strode up to the door and placed her ear against it. "I don't hear anyone moving around."

"Isn't your grandmother kind of sickly and bedridden?" Arthur asked.

"Is she?" Little Red Riding Hood asked. "Well, I guess we'd better let ourselves in then." She tried the handle, but the door was firmly locked.

"Maybe she keeps a key under the doormat?" Arthur suggested.

"No such luck," Little Red Riding Hood said. "I guess we're just going to have to smash a window."

"Is that really necessary?" Arthur asked. "Couldn't we at least try knocking?"

Little Red Riding Hood had already found a decent sized rock on the ground and hurled it through the nearest window. The glass shattered noisily as shards flew in every direction.

"Well, that certainly won't alert the wolf that we're here," Arthur shook his head.

Little Red Riding Hood had already slipped through the broken window and opened the door from the inside. "Doesn't look like anyone's home. Come on in and make yourselves comfy."

They found themselves in a tidy little parlor with three chairs of varying sizes spread around it. There was a small fire going in the fireplace giving the room a nice cozy atmosphere.

Arthur took a seat in the largest of the chairs, but regretted it almost instantly as it felt like he had just dropped himself on a slab of concrete. "Ow, this thing's hard as a rock."

"Mine's too soft," Gretel complained. "I'm sinking into it."

"Really?" Hamlet asked. "Mine's actually quite comfy." He put his hands behind his head and leaned back. There was a cracking sound and the chair collapsed underneath him. "Oops. I guess maybe I need to start cutting back on carbs."

Little Red Riding Hood in the meantime was going through the room systematically, opening all the drawers in the little side tables and examining the contents, and searching the shelves on a bookcase in the corner.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked.

"Me?" she said. "Just looking to see if Granny still has a gift I made for her when I was young. Nothing special. Just a clay ashtray I made in art class. Are you guys hungry? There's some food on the kitchen table."

"Already on top of it," Hamlet said from the other room. "It's porridge, and it's delicious!"

"It has been a while since I've had anything other than trail mix," Arthur said. He took a spoonful of porridge from the biggest bowl and shoved it into his mouth. Instantly he spat it back out in pain. "This is hotter than the surface of the sun!"

"It is?" Gretel asked as she sampled her bowl. "Mine's ice cold."

"I don't know what you guys are talking about," Hamlet said as he licked the last residue of porridge from the bottom of his bowl. "It couldn't have possibly been at a more perfect temperature. You think there's any spare beds upstairs? I'm getting a little drowsy after all that yummy porridge."

"Wait a minute," Arthur said. He glanced over at Little Red Riding Hood who was in the process of ransacking all of the kitchen cabinets. "Something's fishy here. This isn't your grandmother's house, is it?"

"Huh?" Little Red Riding Hood asked as she took a moment to examine the contents of a small pouch she had uncovered. "Don't be silly. Of course it is."

"Then where's your grandmother?" Arthur asked. "If she's so sickly I doubt she'd leave her house. Also why would she want her bedroom located on the second floor? I can't imagine it's easy on her old bones to get up and down those stairs."

"I never said my grandmother was sickly," Little Red Riding Hood said. "That was all you. My granny gets around quite well, thank you very much."

"But then there's another thing," Arthur said. "This whole situation with the chairs and the bowls of porridge and probably the beds upstairs..."

"This little one is super comfy!" Hamlet called down from above. "I think I'm going to have myself a nice little nap."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Little Red Riding Hood's eyes darted from side to side.

"This all seems really familiar," Arthur said. "I remember my Nana telling me a story a lot like this. Tell me the truth.  Is this your grandmother's house?"

"Uh..." Little Red Riding Hood scratched her head. "If you mean does my grandmother own this house, that would be no."

"Does your grandmother live in this house?" Arthur asked.

"Also no," Little Red Riding Hood said. "It's possible she might have been here before though. I can't say she has for sure, but I can't say with complete certainty that she hasn't. Look, it's like the pig said. We needed a place to shelter from that wolf and this house just happened to be here, so we would have been foolish not to have broken in."

"Are you even Little Red Riding Hood?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah, about that," she said as she lowered the hood revealing long blonde hair. "The name's Goldilocks. I'm a professional cat burglar. Truthfully, I don't care about the wolf. I break into houses like this all the time. It may not be honest, but it's a living."

"Wait a minute, if you're not Little Red Riding Hood, why are you wearing that outfit?" Arthur pointed an accusing finger at her.

"What, this old rag?" Goldilocks shrugged. "I stole it from some girl who had hung it in a tree while she took a swim in a pond. Don't look at me like that. I was a little chilly and she wasn't using it at the time."

"Guys, I don't want to interrupt your conversation," Gretel pointed towards the window. "But there are three bears heading this way, and they look hungry."