Snow White

Chapter 22

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'Are you sure this is a good idea?' Snow mumbled, her head still glancing towards the floor. The thievery never struck her as a good idea- probably because she had much more advanced morals than the other villainous Gone members. Nevertheless, Snow White was excited to finally be able to sneak into the Queen's barn containing heaps of food to be transported to her gluttonous, most disgraceful feasts.

'Absolutely.' Peter nodded confidently, his fingers clutching Snow's to enhance his determination.

But they both knew that they were doing something wrong, something hideously wrong. They were seated outside the biggest warehouse in the whole of the country, somewhere that all the King and Queen's imports were taken to. They low wall they were crouched on was more than uncomfortable, the rough edges nibbling through their shapeless, faded jeans and oversized dark sweatshirts. It was six 'o' clock in the evening and the final import of the day would be arriving in seven minutes (Snow had timed it to the nearest millisecond, but Peter couldn't care less for accuracy). Behind them was twenty boys, all wearing similar clothes, hiding in the shades of the forest to avoid attracting attention to themselves.

Snow looked up briefly, before sighing and returning her gaze to her lap. Her conscience was still nagging her, trying to persuade her out of this situation, but nothing could be helped. When Snow made her decision, very little could change her mind.

The crowd that whisked past Snow meant nothing to her. She wasn't part of it. She never had been- and most certainly never will be. For she was something far more important than anyone as she had the power beyond compare, but nobody treated her like a celebrity. She had inherited a plague and not a gift of beauty.

A few people walked past, glancing at the two disapprovingly, but Peter just tauntingly smirked back. The way they were sat, shoulders back and hunched forward, reflected exactly their reason for being here, making Peter smirk because he loved playing the game. Snow was small and delicate, but her stance made her look somewhat dangerous, even to those who knew very little about her surprising bravery. Peter, on the other hand, looked lethal. He had broad shoulders, a well-developed muscular body and dark, threatening eyes. Peter looked far more dangerous and threatening.

Peter's hand slipped from Snow's to gently touch his right pocket. The Gone weren't rich, but they didn't need to be. They were completely self sufficient with their food and only brought clothes or better weapons. But Peter and the Gone needed money for the same reason anyone in the country, rich or poor, did; money wasn't just wealth, money was infinite power. Money was the independence the Gone had always dreamed of having.

Snow cared a lot less for money. She was here for three reasons: to prove to Peter and the Gone that she had the guts; to get the adrenaline and to hurt the Queen without causing her physical pain. Snow would never EVER admit to the latter, but it was crystal clear. She wasn't the perfect child her parents wanted her to be, she was so much more. She was a strong warrior and rebel, even though her family and the Queen just didn't see her that way. She wanted to steal from the Queen because, if she was caught, she'd be murdered, so she might as well make her murderer's life a misery even beyond the grave.

Peter glanced at my watch. Three minutes past six. They had arranged to meet venture into the warehouse at quarter too, but that never seemed the case: the supplies still hadn't been delivered yet.

'You thought you'd turn up them did you?' Snow taunted and Peter's eyes slowly rose to glare at the nearest horse drawn carriage.

'What makes you think it wasn't coming?' Peter raised an eyebrow, his small mouth forming a tight smirk as Snow recoiled.