The Gazelle (A Rapunzel Retelling)

Chapter 2

Smoothing her dress, Tabeya hurried to the arched window.

Her fingers found the rope hanging beside it. Nungal had been adamant none of Tabeya's cut hair went to waste. They had spent hours working the strands into a sturdy rope.

"Tabeya?" Nungal called.

Tabeya flung the rope out of the window, turning the spool to lower it to the ground where Nungal stood waiting. Nungal slipped the girdle around her waist before climbing up the tower, using the narrow terraces spiralling around it as footholds.

The spool rotated as Tabeya rewound it, and her heart continued its fearful thudding. She wondered if her guardian could hear the sound of Tabeya's disobedience.

Nungal climbed in through the window, pulling the dark hood from her head. Her black hair gleamed in the sun's last light. Her thin lips were pressed into a line. There was an unhealthy pallor to her brown skin. It was the colour of a face that didn't see the sun.

"My little gazelle." Nungal's dark eyes rested on Tabeya. "Happy birthday! I brought this for you." She held out a small reed basket.

In it were a few balls of wool, a rainbow in solid form.

Tabeya suppressed a sigh.

She had expected a different birthday present now that she was an adult. Something that could busy the hands of a ten-year-old couldn't capture an eighteen-year-old's mind. What Tabeya wanted was a day spent outside this city, but she knew what Nungal's reply would be.

No outings! People cannot be trusted, and I will never put you in harm's way. You understand, don't you, my little gazelle?

Tabeya kept her thoughts to herself, taking the basket from Nungal and forcing a smile. "Thank you."

"You're looking a bit peaky."

Tabeya tried not to squirm under Nungal's scrutiny, at the sense that her secrets weren't quite so secret.

"Don't worry. I also brought you this." Nungal set a big basket on the table.

Tabeya hurried to pack the food into her cupboard, busying her hands to hide their nervous twitch before they revealed her for the liar she was.

The basket contained turnips, lettuce, chickpeas and onions. There was a sack of barley to make bread and cereal. There were apples, pears, apricots, and little cloth bags of herbs and spices.

Tabeya's stomach rumbled. She'd eaten some dates from the hanging gardens for lunch, but that had been hours ago.

"Are you eating enough?" Nungal frowned.

Tabeya's stomach growled again. "Of course," she said hastily. "But I work hard."

Nungal strode to the pile of Tabeya's woven cloth. "Hmm." She stretched the topmost piece between her hands. "Your technique has improved."

"I've been working on it."

Tabeya made more cloth with fewer flaws every time Nungal came to visit, but her guardian's response was always the same.

"It is still not fit for the gods."

That was Nungal's favourite comparison. She talked about the gods as if she knew them. It sent a shiver through Tabeya.

Despite her criticism, Nungal dropped the pile of cloth in her basket. The gods may not want it, but mortals were willing to pay good money for it, she always said.

"I'll keep trying." Tabeya ignored the dejected sagging of her shoulders.

"There's a good girl."

Tabeya's aching hands pleaded for more rest, but they only had tonight. Tomorrow would be the same as every day.