Für Sarah

The Forset, a Stranger, and a Handkerchief

Six years later...

The scent of pine wood and snow filled little Sarah Chagal's nose, the tip of it reddened from the frost.

"Sarah!" The voice of her papa echoed through the trees.

The nearly six year old paid no mind to the call of her given name, the looming shadows of the forest far more intriguing to her innocent mind.

She was a very lovely child, even a beauty when she grew. Dark and loose auburn curls framed her dainty heart shaped face, rosy cheeks and strawberry-kissed lips, milky white skin.

But Sarah wasted no time looking in mirrors but rather at the story books Mama had gifted on her fifth birthday. They had been hers when she was young and now passed them to her daughter. Sarah spent hours on the floor of her bedroom- second story of the Inn, third door to the right- turning through the ancient pages and faded drawings of beautiful maidens and handsome princes dancing nights away at an enchanted midnight ball...

Sarah no longer heard her Papa call her name. Perhaps he knew she had not ventured very far from where he and the other men where checking their traps for rabbits and deer.

But as the small child looked around at the woods, the frosted over deep emerald leaves and the rough bark, she recognized none of her surroundings.

"Papa?" Her sweet voice bounced off the snow covered trees and did it receive a reply. Sarah pulled her wool coat tighter around her small frame. "P-Papa?"

Not a single sound.

Panic seized her heart and tears prickled behind her golden eyes. Her boots thumped against the forest floor, kicking rocks and snow out of her path. Sarah fled in such fear and terror crying out her Father's name.

Sarah was in such a fit of hysterics that she didn't notice a figure moving about the trees until she ran straight into it.

Er, him.

She screamed and fell backwards, falling on her hands and cutting them on a sharp stone. Her teary gaze trailed up to see a man standing less than a foot from here.

He was the most handsome man Sarah had ever seen. His features were sharp and he was very tall but he gazed upon her with such a kind and almost curious look... the beautiful man wore a thick black cloak and a gentlemen's attire that reminded her of the princes in her story book.

"Forgive me, little libeling, I did not see you there." His voice was rich and deep as he chuckled softly, outstretching his long porcelain fingers towards her. Sarah took them with her own tiny hands and stood.

He seemed to study her. Sarah couldn't help but blush at how beautiful this man was. His eyes were a startling violet... oh the most wonderful color! She wished she had a ball gown that very shade.

"Are you very hurt?" The man asked, and Sarah's little brow furrowed as she noticed his teeth were long and pointy...

She shook her head no but he kneeled down in his fine suit and flipped her hand palm up in his own. His hands were cold, but not fiercely so like the frigid winter air that swirled around the strange duo. A rather calming cool like one would wish to have placed on a forehead if one was struck with fever. The flesh of her palm was sliced and bleeding, and once more tears brimmed in Sarah's eyes.