「Final Fable」

The Second Forest

I'm pretty sure Santa's done this every Christmas, but dashing through the snow is a whole other indescribable experience.

"Hell yeah!"

"You beat me by only three seconds"

"A win is a win, Alice"

"Urgh"

We'd evidently reached the bottom of the slope after more than ten minutes, and surprisingly with no damage. I must be a natural snowboarding legend. Forget cutting trees, I could cut through the snow fabulously.

Alice dusts snow off her clothes as she gets up, picking up her painting piece - they somehow survived the entire ordeal. In front of us is a huge foresty village, the mystical type. Golden light glistened through the forest canopy. Tall trees surrounding us all around, we couldn't see past the cover. Ambient chirping of critters and creatures filled the air. At the foot of such a gigantic mountain lay a humble yet beautiful dwelling. Who would live here? Fairies? Pixies? Wood spirits? Alice's weirdos?

"C'mon, let's explore"

"Wait.. I feel like we're forgetting something"

At that instant, a shill screech invaded the peaceful noise. A giant snowball is headed down the slope, picking up speed by the metre. It somersaults from a rock and flies into the air.

"Dorothy!"

The ball crashes on a pelt of snow and crumbles, like putting a scoop of ice cream on a cone. The yelling stopped.

Dorothy had perished. Not the best way to die, but she will be remembered as one who tried to  brave the treacherous slopes but spectacularly failed. It's just the two of us now, to see this journey to the end.

I wish.

Out from the white heap comes a messy tuft of hair, followed by a dazed Dorothy.

"Ahma shnow somahhh shnowwwww", she mutters.

Probably hit her head. The massive amount of snow kept her alive. We go over to her and help her up.

"Good heavens Dorothy. Are you okay?"

"Remind me to never go snowboarding again"

"What happened to your sled?"

"It became one with the mountains", she says, staring wistfully at the peak.

"Ooookay then"

Grabbing our pieces, the three of us embark into the forest, in search of any civilisation.

Five minutes in, a shriek comes from the distance. We pass the numerous bushes and monotonous scenery to arrive at the source of the woeful cry. It was a small girl. An 8 year old perhaps, and she was flanked by two tigers. Their dripping jowls did not make them seem friendly. They avert their eyes from the prey and shoot a piercing glance at us.

"Okay Jack, listen carefully. I'll go left and you take Dorothy and g—"

There's no time for plans.

I take my painting piece and slam it right on one tiger's head with all my might. It shatters, just like our hopes of getting outta here alive.