Upstairs guardsmen were rushing around, and a gaggle of officials Everette didn't have the energy to try and recognize were talking in hushed tones. A messenger boy ran off to send for what he could only assume would be the local police, so that they could run through their database of known criminal identities to investigate the situation further. He couldn't prevent himself from anxiously glancing in the direction of the dungeons now and again.

He turned to Lange suddenly. "And you're sure no one can escape from the dungeons?"

Sir Lange frowned. "Well... it hasn't happened in a long time, that's for certain." He shifted his attention to the direction Everette couldn't seem to take his eyes off of. "Does it seem a bit noisy to you?"

Everette rubbed the back of his neck, nervously tapping one foot. "Of course it does. All these bureaucrats arguing over who killed my mother..." His eyes were welling with tears again, but Lange shifted, his focus elsewhere.

"Holy Jack Horner."

"What?"

"What was that the girl said? The Ugly Duckling, she said something about one of the thieves." Realization seemed to be dawning on him, and he took off at a sprint towards the stairs. Not knowing what else to do, Everette chased after him.

"What did she say?" he called nervously.

Sir Lange spun around and continued running backwards, a fire in his eyes that Everette couldn't quite decipher as either excitement or anger. "She called him a 'naughty animagus'. An animagus, Your Highness!"

Everette let out a string of rather unprincely expletives.

Down in the dungeon, the blond stranger, now freed, held her hands out toward the trapdoor. She muttered a series of rhymes no one could quite understand—perhaps the ancient language of old magic, the one few knew anymore. From her fingers spread shadowy tendrils of unidentifiable magic, her whole aura practically humming with the force of it. Everyone stepped back, consumed entirely by fear at such mesmerizingly dark power, as the shadows shot out and wrapped around the door, eating away at it, consuming the iron which had been so rusted even a knight couldn't move it, until it dissolved completely. All that remained was ash and dust. She closed her eyes, tossed her head back, and spread her arms apart, her shadows stretching the opening wider as she did so.

A witch. This was a witch. Of course.

Guards flooded into the dungeon just as the tunnel entrance became wide enough for a grizzly to fit through. They charged without hesitation. The witch rolled gracefully into the opening, the old man snatching up the opportunity to dive in after her. Penny stayed behind to hold off their adversaries as the rest of the thieves devoted their focus to shoving an angry, struggling Bear into the tunnel. They all plummeted in as well from the sheer momentum, grasping frantically onto each other if only because there was nothing else to hold onto. Penny slipped away from the guards and jumped through as well.

Once they all hit the bottom, crashing in a heap, the layout of the tunnel system presented an opportunity to split off. Everyone had to act fast or the guards that had followed them through would be on their tails in an instant. The old man took the left route, and Claude darted for the middle. As he still had the bag of fish, bear-Bear chased after him, and sequentially Lindsay and Penny after him.

Ramona and the stranger locked eyes for a fleeting moment.

"You could have escaped from that prison without our help," she said plainly. The girl tilted her chin up, a flurry of bees already swarming to her beck and call.

"I was curious to see if you would stay true to your word. Not many do," she replied with a shrug.

"We needed someone to get us through the tunnel."

"Not true. You could have found another way. There's always another way."

They both swiveled suddenly as the horde of guards slid down the first tunnel. The witch had an army of her own—her bees rushed towards the enemy with a flick of her finger, stingers at the ready. Ramona had no bag and therefore no weapon, so she stretched her wings and beat the air towards the guards instead, hovering slowly backwards. The possibly enchanted insects were more ferocious than normal bees should have been, and Ramona could have sworn they were drawing blood. Whatever they were doing, it was successfully fending off the guardsmen, and they began to retreat, a few screaming at each other to surrender.

Ramona looked over her shoulder, itching to follow her crew but feeling as if she shouldn't leave the girl behind alone. The guards were all scrambling to get back up to the dungeon, but she was frozen in place for just a moment, unsure of what to do.

"What are you waiting for?" the witch called, amusement dancing in her voice. "Not afraid of the dark, are you?" And with that, she and her bees disappeared into the darkness.

Ramona shook off the sticky sludge that was uncertainty and took a running start towards the way Claude and the others had gone, flying to catch up. It didn't take long to dart past Bear, who was bumbling and staggering his way through the tunnels as if he couldn't see at all, slamming into walls at every turn. There was another fork a little ways further, and they were all forced to trust Claude's judgment on which way would lead to the surface fastest.

Running, running, running. Flying, spinning, sliding.

They finally made it through the abandoned mines, and it could have taken six minutes or ten years. Claude nodded to the left. "Surface is this way!"

However incompetent and technologically impaired the Snow officials may have been, they certainly must have thought at least to send for backup. Surely local law enforcement if nothing else were on their way. So Ramona felt a nagging sense of urgency as she tumbled down the last crooked tunnel, grasping for Penny's hand to struggle her way out. Lindsay and Claude were already collapsed on their backs in the snow and shivering, but Ramona scrambled to her feet immediately, calling out for Bear. He was still lumbering through the mine tunnel on all fours, snorting and growling and making the whole structure shudder and shake. When he emerged he let out a terrible, ferocious roar that made everyone wince.

"We don't have time for this," Claude muttered, bringing a hand to one side of his head and propping himself up with the other. Ramona put her fingers to her mouth and whistled shrilly, making Baby Bear freeze and glance about warily.

"That's right, this way," Penny coaxed, waving another fish in the air. "Once we get to the van you can sleep. Don't you want that?"

The bear's eyes seemed to soften, his movements slowing. He let out a soft snort, pawing at the thin layer of snow on the ground.

"Tick-tock, Minerva," Ramona murmured, squinting out into the distance. She'd be damned if that wasn't a police car she'd just spotted. There was noise coming from all sides—commotion back at the castle, rustling in the trees, and sirens and shouting on the main road.

"I'm already here, you bloody moron," Minerva spat through their speaker system, and they all turned just as the all-too-familiar van came crashing through the frost-dipped evergreen trees. It skidded to a crooked stop just in front of Lindsay and Claude, who were quick to jump back to their feet. It was a good thing they had all-terrain tires. Lindsay was at the door in an instant, placing a huge smooch on the side of the vehicle and throwing open the side door to dash inside.

"Oh, security, I've missed you! It's fairy-flipping freezing out here!"

Claude flashed Minerva his signature charming smirk. "Pretty and a chauffeur? You truly are the backbone of this crew, my darling."

She stuck her tongue out at him along with demonstrating a much more vulgar gesture.

Ramona and Penny urged Bear to get inside the van, struggling to maneuver him through the door. The van was magically bigger on the inside than it appeared from the outside, but given that they'd gotten it used and none of them were particularly adept at magic themselves, it wasn't by much. Lindsay grabbed the crowbar and shoved aside the loose plate strapped to the roof, revealing that there was in fact quite a large hole in the ceiling. Once bear-Bear had his fish to snack on and a nice big roof opening to stick his head out of, his temper died down as fast as it had gotten worked up.

Ramona slumped into the passenger seat. Her back was aching—she'd allowed her wings to materialize and even spread out a few times, worn herself sore by flying more than once, and then forced her wings to magically disappear into her back again. Needless to say her body was very confused. If she lived a healthy lifestyle then her wings should be free at all times and she should be consistently exercising them, but then again if she lived a healthy lifestyle she wouldn't be in this whole mess in the first place.

"Step on it, if you will," said Ramona breathlessly. "How many roads are up here?"

"Just one," Minerva replied quietly. She had this very strangely entrancing voice, lilting and melodic and clear, despite the fact that she didn't use it all that often—and when she did, she spoke mostly in crude, abrupt sentences and language most certainly unfit for a young woman as beautiful as she. She had a creamy, entirely unblemished complexion, gleaming blond hair tied into a thick bubble braid and decorated with shiny gold bangles, and all her face was crafted like that of a delicate porcelain doll. But Minerva Lynon, with her swearing and her torn black jeans and her bloodred lipstick and her protective shell, was anything but delicate, and she definitely was no doll. She'd left that life behind long ago.

Ramona's eyes were open wide and darting about the view through the front windshield. "We're gonna hit cops on the main road."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Minerva's face and then vanished again. "I think ol' Gray can handle hitting a cop or two."

"Not what I meant," Ramona sighed as Minerva sped through the trees. She turned to glance over her shoulder. "Baby hasn't turned back yet?"

Lindsay shrugged, shooting Bear, who was still very much a bear, a mildly curious look. He'd settled down and was enjoying the fresh air so it didn't matter. Claude was on his back in the middle row, spread across the walkway with his knees propped in the air, fiddling with something he'd doubtlessly snatched off one of the guards searching him. Whatever it was was gleaming in the light of the ray of quickly dwindling sunshine that had managed to make its way through the largely tinted windows. In the seat behind him on the left side was Penny, curled against the side of the van and sharpening her collection of daggers.

By now they had emerged through the forest and out into the setting sunlight. Sure enough, clunky silver cars with CENTRAL SNOW LAW ENFORCEMENT emblazoned on their sides were already hot on their tail. Lindsay swiveled in alarm.

"Have we got anything to fend them off with?"

Ramona tossed up her hands. "Ask the klepto, not me!"

"Hey!" Claude protested, sitting up and turning to the back to get a good look at the cops himself.

Minerva increased pressure on the accelerator, frowning at the side view mirror. "They ain't got guns," she said, "only crossbows."

Ramona attempted to roll down the window, which got stuck halfway (again). She craned her neck to get a better look. Uniformed archers on horseback were quickly catching up to the police cars. "What kinda cops don't use guns?"

Claude stuck his head out of his own window. "No way! What is this, Villagetown?"

"No guns in Snow, duh," Minerva said, sounding slightly exasperated. She suddenly swerved left, making Penny lurch forward and Claude tumble off his seat. Lindsay clung to Bear's fur for dear life.

Penny righted herself, grunting. "Get Baby to move! I'm getting on the roof."

Claude glanced her way. "We don't got any projectiles."

"Knives'll have to be good enough," she said with a shrug. Ramona muttered something about not needing another dent in the side as Bear stumbled onto the back of the van (the expanded area that had once been the trunk) with all the poise and grace of a several-hundred-pound wild animal. Penny climbed atop the backseat, grabbed the sides of the hole in the ceiling, and swung herself onto the roof in an impressive feat of upper-body strength. She slowly, carefully, rose to a standing position, well aware that she was balancing precariously on the roof of a vehicle moving upwards of sixty miles an hour. She narrowed her eyes at her targets—six men on horseback, three on either side of the short line of silver cop cars.

She spun twin daggers in her fingers, her hair whipping in the wind, thinking briefly that it was sort of funny that there was one archer for each thief. The impact of an arrow lodging itself into the back windshield and spiderwebbing through the glass almost knocked her over.

If any of them aimed for the tires, the thieves were all about to be dead meat.

Penny set her feet and lifted her first knife, her eyes roaming the six targets. She allowed her mind to deepen the connection between the thieves and the archers—the large bearded man in the front was Bear, the one with pretty eyes was Minerva, the haughty-looking brunet was Lindsay, the one barking orders was Duckie, the one wearing gold earrings was Claude, and the last one... He had a rather unappealing face, almost frog-like in a way. His mouth too wide, his eyes buggy and too far apart. Yes, this one would be Prince Skip. Linking the targets to people she knew allowed her to more easily pinpoint their weaknesses, notice their tells.

She turned her aim, lining up her elbow with the sixth target. Prince Skip would be the first to go. She was going to enjoy pretending to murder her ex-husband. Minerva, please do NOT turn.

She threw it.

The knife sliced through the air in a perfectly straight line, hurtling towards the man she'd had her eyes on. And missed. She barely had enough time to swear under her breath before the van made a right and she tumbled across the roof, throwing out her arm and grabbing hold of the left side rail, just catching herself before she fell. She forced herself back up, trying to see where she'd hit instead. The knife had slid past the constantly-moving target but had luckily lodged itself in the breast of the horse right behind him instead. Archer Claude was a goner; his horse was already bucking wildly in distress. She leveled her aim at Archer Skip again.

She didn't miss this time.

He almost lost control of the reins, crying out in pain and looking in horror at his shoulder. For a moment Penny wished she'd gone for his face instead, but the thought was too disturbing. The real Skip's face kept flashing through her head, and as repulsive and neglectful as he may have been, it was difficult to hate what had once been loved.

Archer Bear was a bigger target, so it took two daggers to injure him in any meaningful way. Those pretty eyes belonging to Archer Minerva were also remarkably keen and he was the first to notice her, and to point an arrow in her direction. She ducked, flattening herself to the roof just as the arrow whizzed over her and the vehicle jolted again. She had to find his weakness and quick, or the next projectile would end up in her chest. She popped back up again just long enough to scan the targets once more.

Now, Archer Duckie was glancing around, his eyes never remaining on one subject for too long for fear of missing something elsewhere. Any minor distraction would be read as a potential threat. So this time Penny missed on purpose, confusing his attention long enough to make him slow down for just a second or two, and the second knife landed just where she wanted it. Unfortunately this made her an obvious target for Archer Minerva again, and as the cop cars were speeding up, so was the real Minerva. All the air was stolen from her chest as she spun across the roof of the van on the next turn, clinging to the other rail for dear life. Thankfully by now she'd knocked three out of six off their horses. The third car had screeched to a stop, forced to wait behind and assist the injured men. Freezing wind blasted against Penny's face and all she could think was that she could die for this stupid, stupid, pointless, waste of life crapfest heist.

Deep breaths. Ignoring the cold. Bracing herself every time the car jostled aggressively. Claude's head popped up out of the hole in the roof, nearly giving her a heart attack.

"Penny! We're gonna try losing them in the forest!"

She hardly had enough time to frantically think What forest? before a branch smacking her in the face almost knocked her backwards. A low growl emitted from her throat, and she ducked, inching her way closer to Claude. Arrows were flying far too close to her for comfort, but she still had targets to take down. She clung tightly to anything on the roof she could grasp, the van shuddering—it must have hit a rock or log or something. Her eyes locked on her next target, refusing to let go of her mission. She hurled another knife, and it sailed smoothly through the bitterly cold air. Right through Archer Minerva's neck. Blood splattered on the snow, a poetic sight, before disappearing, replaced by the frost-covered forest.

She blinked, feeling an uncomfortable mix of victory and disgust—maybe associating her enemies with her friends was a bad idea—but there was no time to process any of it as Claude yanked her back into the van, sealing up the hole behind them.

The cars and the horses diminished far into the distance, and soon there was no one following them at all. Their detour into the trees had paid off.

Soon they were on a lone road again, leaving Central to enter South Snow Kingdom as the last of the sun's rays faded into the darkening sky. The road was less bumpy now, and it would be smooth riding until the morning, when they could find somewhere to rest, collect food and supplies as they essentially now had none, and recalculate where they needed to go next. After all the traveling they'd had to do for this failure of a heist, it would be nice to pee somewhere that wasn't the woods for once.

All was calm again. Maybe not secure, as they never truly could be, but calm at least.

Penny collapsed onto the floor, exhausted, leaning her head back and resting on Baby Bear's enormous furry form. Her eyes fluttered shut almost immediately, and she would fall asleep shortly after that. She woke easily but slept easily as well. Claude offered to switch places with Minerva but she shook her head. He paused, his arm resting across the back of her seat.

"You sure? You've been in the driver's seat since the heist started."

She lifted her chin, not looking at him. "Gives me time to think."

Claude's mouth twisted. He could probably easily squeeze out of her whatever she didn't want to talk about, but for some reason he couldn't identify he thought it best to leave her alone. Maybe that was just... respect. He patted the back of her seat.

"Alright. I won't pry. Don't have a pity party without me—any depression-fest and I wanna be invited. Feel free to wake me up for second shift whenever you're ready."

She lifted her right hand, keeping her eyes on the road, and he grasped it for a moment before heading back towards the rows of seats. Lindsay was frowning at her appearance in a hand mirror in the back row just in front of where bear-Bear and Penny lay, and Ramona was fumbling around for the lever on the floor that activated the expansion of the seat width.

"There," she huffed finally, standing up and dusting her hands off as the spacing of the vehicle shimmered faintly and stretched. "This stupid thing could use a trip to an auto repair." Lindsay's eyes lit up and she shut her mirror, stretching herself out wide on both seats across the back row and humming softly. Ramona pulled off her overlay vest, stuffing it in her trusty silver backpack and pulling a blanket from a pile of laundry stuffed in a corner. She made eye contact with Claude, who held up his hands, and she tossed it to him.

Ramona stretched her wings, wincing as she hit the sides of the van, and settled into the nearest seat, which was now extended enough that if she curled up only the ends of her legs would dangle into the walkway. It was a tight fit for all of them trying to sleep in one van, but the sun had already set and there was no time to get to an inn. It was cheaper this way, she supposed. Claude discarded his boots and lied beside her, pulling from his pocket what appeared to be a pocket watch and examining it.

"Crazy day."

"Yeah."

He fiddled with the chain in his fingers, staring up at the ceiling, already drowsy in the darkness but his train of thought never seemed to get hazy with the prospect of sleep. "The death of Queen Snow White... that's something new, isn't it?"

"You think it's good news or bad news?" she asked softly.

Claude frowned. "I think..." He wasn't sure what he was supposed to think. On the one hand the royals surely deserved to die, every one of them. But on the other, Sicilienne would hear of this soon. She had always had these silly daydreams of happily ever after. He couldn't help thinking an event like this would crush her. He ought to send her a letter in the morning, ask how she was doing. "Snow White likely had it coming."

"Right," said Ramona slowly. "I guess I always thought of the royals as punching bags for all us commoners, y'know, complaint-wise, but I just... I just didn't think that anyone would ever have the guts to rip their hearts out. And yesterday, they wouldn't."

"Something's changing," he agreed. "For better. Or for worse."

Ramona tugged the ties out of her hair, despite the fact that it would definitely be a mess, and let her head fall back onto the seat. She closed her eyes, letting the day's events rush back to her in a flood of colorful memories. It was too much to sort through for now. Perhaps her dreams would be willing to process it for her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Night."

"Night," Lindsay chimed.

"Night," Claude murmured.

"Night," said Minerva from the front.

"Night," Penny mumbled groggily. Bear grunted. Hopefully he'd return to normal by the time they all woke.

Ramona's left wing tucked behind her back, the other draping itself over Claude. The noise faded to the soft breathing of Penny in the back, the faint humming from Lindsay's row as she sang herself to sleep, and the gentle clinking of the chain in Claude's fingers. And Minerva drove on silently into the night, into a tomorrow where a world awaited vastly different from today's.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

I'm back with another chapter! I'm so happy that I managed to get this one out today, and I'm excited to hear your thoughts! Literally nothing makes me happier than getting to write fast-paced scenes with the thieves, so this one was a lot of fun, although it was definitely a pain to write logistically. Next chapter we get to visit an old friend from the prologue :)

Attempting to plot this gigantic monstrosity of a story has been an adventure of its own, but I'm pretty excited for what's in store, and I think that I'll be able to get the storyline more organized in the next few weeks now that the exposition is well on its way. I'm going to do random polls in these author's notes now because I don't know what else to write, so here's today's: what's your favorite seasonal/holiday treat? For me it's probably those little heart candies at Valentine's Day, and I went out and bought some today lol >:D

Anyway I guess I'll see y'all whenever the next chapter is done, so thanks for reading and have a fantabulous day (if you want to)!