When they burst out into the open air, covered in red dirt, scratched and bleeding from the cuts, it was with great relief that the three fell about the tunnel's opening and took in the biggest gulp of air they could. Towards the end of their tunnel traversing, the air had become thick, too toxic and putrid, and their bodies had threatened to close their throats in protest; lungs burned, begging for air.

And it was the chill air that first greeted them as they tumbled out, breathless. Gasping. Its bite nipped at their heated cheeks and frightened hearts; at their raw fingers and their weak legs. The second thing to greet them was a blood-red sky at the crack of dawn, ill-boding dark clouds tinged with lament. Spindly, spiny limbs of dead trees reaching up to touch the ominous expanse. The third thing they noticed about them was that not a sound stirred in the wee hours of the morning. No bird chirps, no rustle of leaves; no creaks and croaks; not even the wind.

"It's awfully quiet out here. Is that normal?" Ruby pushed herself up to her trembling legs. They had walked all night without rest, but she wasn't sitting down for this. Something pricked the back of her neck, its small hairs standing alert. She squinted at the darkness about them, darkness the bleeding sky hadn't penetrated yet. "Cause I don't like the sound of this—or lack of!" she added, rubbing her chilled arms. Perhaps a thicker cloak would have aided the Princess, for she was chilled to her very core as much as the two tumbled bodies around her.

"Not if the land is dead, milady. Dead lands don't speak of life, or so they say." Sir Bashful rose to his feet beside Ruby, scanning the clearing they had come upon. His ominous voice further aided the creep that was settling into Ruby's bones. "I've feared for ages that the Red Forest has met the same fate."

"Dead lands?" Millie eyed the grounds about them with a mixture of dread and longing. Granny. She hadn't seen her granny since the time the woman sent the three children packing, a parcel of food and clothes each hanging from their gangly arms, a bag of gold chiming at Millie's hip.

"This is no place for children, sweet pea. Take thee, brother and sister, as far away from these lands as you can. For times are changing... there is a shift in the air. You are no longer safe here. Go! Make a home somewhere else. Hans and Gretel are your children now. Look after them as they look after you. Go, child. The woods are no longer safe for you."

"But where shall we go, Granny? We have no one but you?" Young Millie had gasped, tears stinging her already red eyes as Hansel and Gretel clung to each other for fear. To their young hearts and minds, Millie and Granny were still strangers, and strangers hadn't been good in their young lives.

"To the south. Go to the south. At the mouth of the Charming Lands, lies a village, small and safe. Orlem it's called. Buy land, build a hut. As the lady of the house, seek employment. Earn your bread."

"But, Granny. Come with us."

Granny's old fingers had wiped the tears from Millie's eyes. "Child, I would come with you in a heartbeat, but I cannot leave these lands. I am as bound to them as they are to me. I am all that stands between—"

Granny had never finished that sentence. Instead, she'd wiped the tears of all three children. Hugged them to her bosom, kissed their heads and ushered them out of her warm home. "Go now with your sister. Go be safe."

She had stood on the edge of her garden, her forest, and waved the Hood children farewell. "Till we meet again, my children."

Millie had held Hans' hand, with Gretel clung to his shirt. As she'd walked away from the only loving home she'd know since she was eight, she had wondered—what kind of job could a girl her age find? Upon entering the village of Orlem, on the edge of the kingdom she would call home for many years, Millie had found the sign.

"Hear ye, hear ye. The palace seeks a chambermaid for the young princess Ruby-Rose. Last maid died of blistering blight. New maid must be young, no more than twelve, and she must be willing to live within or nearby. The pay will be fair. Enough to feed a family."

One more time, in her young life, Millie had felt lucky, as if it were a sign from Granny. This job was meant to be hers, and so she had applied...

"I wonder," Millie stood too on shaky legs, trying to keep steady. She held onto a nearby tree, which at her touch, snapped and crackled dry. Its barks falling off like drapes. Like the lands hadn't seen a drop of moisture in the years since she had left. Dead wasn't the word to describe it. Even death had long left these forests.

"You wonder what?" Ruby inclined her head towards the maid, who swayed like a palm tree. Ruby reached out and held the girl steady.

Millie smiled thankfully. "I know these woods, Ruby-Rose. These were once home. And I wonder..." She couldn't bring herself to say it, however.

I wonder if Granny is still here, fending off the darkness she warned me about. Sent me away from.

Had Granny known about the powers she hid within? Powers that a Princess would need one day?

"Wonder what, Millie?" Ruby asked again, her grip steady on Millie as she held her by her shoulders and sat her down on the nearest fallen log.

"Her grandmother lies in these woods," Sir Bashful volunteered.

"Her grandmother?"

Sir Bashful, with his hand ready on his sword's hilt, his eye forever roaming about, nodded. "The fairy Godmother, responsible for life in these woods. I fear, if she is still alive, she is near-lost to this world."

Millie turned to the knight then, desperately attempting to wean herself off the log. She fell on her face but pushed up with all the urgency she could muster. "Do you believe she could still be alive, good sir?"

She looked about the clearing as the light of day gave them some freedom to see. And about them, nothing but dead trees and dried carcasses lay—turning slowly to dust. Could her granny survive still, when all life, as far as they could see, was dead?

"Depends." Bashful held a hand out to the young maid in a kindly gesture and pulled her back up to the log. "Would you still remember her place?"

Would she remember granny's place? What kind of silly question was that. Of course, Millie remembered the place. She knew the forest like the back of her hands, did she not?

She beamed up at the knight with her biggest smile yet. She could see her granny soon. Whatever sorry luck they had had so far since the Princess-swap was changing.

"Will you be able to lead us there? Perhaps Lady Efil can aid us in our endeavour, for I dare say, we could use all the sages and all the mages we can get."

Millie vigorously nodded, trying to get back up to her feet—but the poor thing was savagely tired.

Ruby held her down with a hand on her arm. "We need to eat and rest before we can carry on, Millie. Sit, eat, and get your legs back before we push ourselves too hard that Snow's men will catch us before you can even say 'granny'."

"The Princess is right, Millie Hood. We have time. First, we rest our weary legs, fill our bellies, then we may leave. I don't sense anyone behind us for quite some bit. We just shouldn't stay here, out in the open. These lands are still rumoured to be ruled by wolves. Let's get somewhere safe."

Blissfully unaware of the three hungry, tired, and resolute beings below, flakes of snow drifted peacefully, soundlessly to touch the damp red earth.

A flake or two landed on Sir Bashful's face. He touched it with his gruff hands in surprise. It immediately melted away, and he wiped it as if they were the tears he could no longer cry.

Millie held out her palm and watched the white fluff land softly. "Snow? This early?"

"It's not usually this cold this time of the year?" Ruby perked up with interest, though her companions barely paid any attention—so wrapped up in watching the snowfall they were.

It's the Ice Queen! Bashful thought knowingly. She usually made things cold and unbearable when she was angry or hurt, or felt betrayed. And right about now, he would bet his two hearts that the cold Queen was all of those things. Angry that Ruby-Rose had gotten away. Hurt because she had trusted Bash to do what she hadn't been able to do herself back then—kill her child so one day, she would not be the death of her. And feeling betrayed, because Bash had pledged an oath in the Dwarf Forest twenty-five years ago, to protect her at all costs. Instead, he was doing the very opposite—harbouring the child that would spell her demise.

"Queen Snow is angry," was all he said. What else could explain the two-month early snowfall or the chill in the air that snapped at their bones? "Come, we must seek a safe place to rest a moment before we journey on in search of Lady Efil."

Thus, with the mighty Sir Bashful now back to his normal, enormous size, he had simply carried the exhausted maid in his arms and led the weary-but-able Princess out of the clearing where they were easy prey.

"Walk like you're made of air, your highness, for these woods may be dead, but they yet have eyes and ears," he had whispered, having Ruby walk close at his flank, for should the need arise, he could grab her in his arms and run like a prize stallion.

Ruby had tried very hard not to look frightened as the word, "Wolves!" spilled from her lips.

As Sir Bashful nodded and walked on dried leaves with naught but muffled sounds, Ruby grabbed the small sword by his side, and said in a whisper, "I shall protect you, Sir. Lead on."

He couldn't help it then. A delighted chuckle left Sir Bashful. "I'm relying on it, Princess."

Muffled crunch after muffled crunch later, they came upon an area that was walled off on two sides. Sir Bashful had deemed it the safest place to rest awhile. They could watch two sides with their backs safe, and so he had set Millie down on the ground.

Somewhere deep in the forest, howls had echoed.

Ruby held on tighter to the sword. Prying phantom eyes leered at them from the brambles and branches afar.

"Wolves."

That's when Millie unfastened her parcel and pulled out a thing that was familiar even to Ruby-Rose.

Her Granny's red cloak.

Millie held it towards Sir Bashful. "Might this come in handy, Sir? The wolves dare not touch the person beneath this."

"A protection cloak?" Sir Bashful laughed cheerily. "Why, maid, that is a fine sight out here indeed. Now get yourself and the Princess under it while I gather us some firewood. I fear a blizzard is on its way. We may need it yet when we get to your granny's."

"Just our luck, aye?" He checked that at his hip, his long sword was fastened safely. Still laughing jovially, he turned to leave the maidens.

"Sir?" Ruby called, holding out the short sword she'd grabbed earlier.

Bashful eyed the weapon in the girl's grip, some colour finally returning to his colourless cheeks. His eye danced mischievously. "Hold on to it Princess, it suits your hand. And when I return, I might teach you how to wield it."

Ruby gawked at the retreating knight. "Is he serious?" she asked as Millie Hood draped the red cloak over their shoulders. It grew in size to accommodate them.

Millie smiled warmly, thinking of home and how soon she could see it. "I beg to say, that's all sir Bashful knows, milady. Serious."

"Here, let us eat some trail bread while we wait." And she handed the Princess a small parcel wrapped in what looked to be a banana leaf.

Their skin touched in the exchange, skin seared by the other's skin, flashes of static sizzled upon their brush.

Ruby looked to Millie. "Did you feel that?"

Millie's heart sank a little. Was the merge happening? What would happen to her afterwards? Would she still exist?

Will I get to see granny?

And Millie's heart skipped a beat. She had to stall the merge from happening until she saw her granny once. At least once. And so, Millie pulled away from the Princess fearfully.

"I'm not sure what that was, Ruby-Rose, but you and I are both not well-versed in wielding, and with Sir Bashful away, perhaps we should wait till he returns to ask him. Till then, please do not be offended, but I feel we should not touch."

This was a lie, of course. Millie Hood was far more versed in magic than she let on. After all, the girl had lived with one of the most powerful wielders of their times and learned a thing or two. Enough to know that she didn't want to rely on ifs and whens, not until she could see her loving granny again. Until then, both Ruby-Rose and the prophecy had to wait. It was a dying girl's wish...

WC: 2296                TWC: 21, 234

[A/N: So, I wrote this chapter knowing the Round Two results are possibly hours away. This book surprised me in Round One, placing it in the top 5. All I can think about right now is, I hope I've done the best by the story so far and I hope it's been enough to at least make the next cut. We're all on pins and needles, those of us waiting with bated breaths and nervous flutterings. Good luck to you if you're in the race.

No matter what, I hope you'll keep writing and reading. I know I certainly will.

Now that's out of the way... what do you make of this chapter? What do you make of Millie there? Is she having a change of heart?]