ROTTEN to the Core [EN]

Chapter 3 - Time To Die

"The huntsman obeyed and led Snow White out into the forest..."
- Brothers Grimm -

Beside the narrow crescent moon, the stars twinkled in the silk band of the night sky. Only a little moonlight passed through the densely-grown treetops to the forest floor, so everything below their canopy of leaves lay in the opaque darkness. Wisps of mist drifted away in ghostly rivers over the damp foliage and the hard earth.

The pounding of hooves kicked up dirt and drummed its sound through the forest's living silence. The hunter's broad cloak fluttered behind him like a flag, but no one in this lonely environment could have recognized the royal sigil on it. Instead, the noise caused unrest among the forest's inhabitants. The out-of-place sound tore the veil of natural background noise, and the steed dashed between thickets and rows of trees, unperturbed toward its goal.

It was the deepest night when the rider finally regained the horse's speed. Dirt and leaves kicked up as the hooves pressed into the soft ground, finally pausing where the treetops thinned again, and the land became increasingly interspersed with rock.

At the foothills, the rider dismounted from the back of his steed. Then he turned and reached for the bundle thrown over the saddle. The man's gloved hands went without restraint for the lifeless body wrapped in a thick coat. If the girl was found, the queen wanted to ensure it looked like the silly child had run away. But the hunter knew that no defenseless person would leave this forest alive. Even he was afraid to stay here longer than necessary! The queen wanted the princess to be taken deep into the woods to the foot of the mountains - And who would he be to question her order?

The loyal hunter shouldered the girl and dragged her toward the dark colossus behind growing rocks. In the darkness, the Darkfang peak stretched toward the sky like a black spearhead. It was exhausting to drag the princess's body over the rough terrain. Stones pressed into the soles of his boots, the rock was slick and slippery from the night's dampness, and the damned bellows were heavy. A frosty breeze blew into his face, blowing the dark brown hair from his scarred features. Sweat made his skin damp and clammy.

Actually, he should have taken them closer to the mountain. To the caves, closer to the beasts that dwelled there. But that thought was what made him finally drop the body. It was as good here as anywhere! What did it matter if the beasts mauled the girl here or if he brought her closer to their caves?!

The hunter snorted and was about to turn away... when suddenly he noticed a tiny white cloud coming off the red lips. Immediately, his body stiffened, and he went down toward the brat. It had to be imagination! His senses were playing tricks on him.

"You are dead," he spoke softly to convince reality. But his fingers trembled as he pulled off a glove, and his fingers slid to his red lips. For a second, he heard only his heartbeat. Then he uttered a harsh curse. It was still warm, and light moisture had condensed on the bellows' lips. He didn't know how he didn't know why... but the girl was still alive!

His jaw tightened, and the man's lips under his dark beard formed a hard line as his hands slid to the hunting knife. The queen's command had been clear: Snow White had to die and disappear forever!

The huntsman drew the large knife, and the moonlight slid across the sharpened blade.

"Time to die, sweet Princess."