A most inauspicious meeting

Dairine has been on the run for a while now. She's still looking for a place to stay after her father's death. Her stepmother's evil magic has so far not found her yet.

Dairine pulled her cloak tight about her as the rain poured down on her. It had been a month since she'd fled the lands of her birth, seeking but never finding a permanent shelter. She constantly looked over her shoulder, fearful even now that her stepmother would find a way of hunting her down.

The last village she'd been in had driven her out at the point of pitchforks because they didn't know her. She'd stumbled into the forest. She tried to keep near the edge but having to avoid fallen trees and dense brush, she'd been forced deeper in.

Dairine glanced up, trying to reckon her position. But without the sun or stars, she couldn't do it. She stumbled and slammed her shoulder into a tree. She cried out as the pain radiated down her arm. She leaned against the trunk. Sobs stole her breath and hot tears mingled with the cold rain on her cheeks.

She allowed herself a few minutes to grieve before standing up and wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She shifted the pack she'd purchased at her first stop to a more comfortable position before moving forward. Peering through the gloom she was at first unaware of the thin tendril of smoke. It wasn't until she smelled it that she noticed it.

Dairine looked around and saw, in the distance, what looked to be a cottage. She knew that there were woodcutters who lived in the forest. Perhaps they'd be willing to let her spend the night. She couldn't offer much in payment since her pouch of coins had been reduced to only a few coppers. She'd learned a few things along her journey. Perhaps they'd be willing to trade work for a patch by the fire.

It took longer than she expected, but she reached the cottage. She looked around. It was more worn down than she'd thought. The door was leaning inwards and one of the windows was broken and had been repaired with a piece of wood propped against it.

Dairine knocked, but there was no answer. Hesitantly she pushed the door open. It stuck a little but finally allowed her inside. Water continued to drip down on her head. She moved to the side and saw that the roof leaked in a few places. As she looked around she noticed that the only piece of furniture was a battered table. There was a sink with a hand pump to fill it. Off to one side were what looked to be half a dozen piles of blankets.

Dairine found a corner and tucked herself into it. She leaned against the wall and allowed herself to start crying again. Exhausted, she didn't even realize she'd fallen asleep.

Rough hands seized her, startling her awake. “Well, lookie here. We got us a thief.” A man had yanked her to her feet, and one arm went across her throat. “What should we do with him?”

“Your eyes are as bad as ever,” another man said. “That's a woman.”

“Don't matter,” the first man said. “She's a thief either way.”

“How do you know she's a thief, Eamon?” a third voice said. “Did you see her steal anything? Everything that was here before is still in their normal spots.”

“Then why was she hiding in here?” the man named Eamon asked.

“Let her go and let's ask her,” the third man said. Eamon released her and gave her a little push forward. “Now, young lady, why are you in our house?”

“I was just trying to get out of the rain,” Dairine said. “That's all. I didn't touch anything.”

She's a child

Every faerie tale must start somewhere. These are the opening scenes of my Snow White retelling.

 “Dairine, where are you?” The impatient voice of Braith, her nurse, made her giggle. She pulled herself deeper into the bush. “Dairine, your father has sent for you. You don't want to keep him waiting, do you?”

Dairine squirmed out from under the bushes. “What does papa want?”

“There you are,” Braith said. “Look at you. Now we'll have to clean you up and that'll mean your father will have to wait that much longer to see you.”

“No he won't.” Dairine closed her eyes and thought of the light. She knew she was glowing. When she opened them again, her dress was clean and her hair was back in its braid. “See? All better.”

Braith slapped her. “You know better than to do that,” she said. Dairine started crying. “Now we'll just see what your father has to say about this.” She dragged Dairine back towards the keep.

Dairine stumbled and was yanked back to her feet. She cried even harder. Braith threw her into the study, almost sending Dairine headlong into her father's desk. “What is this?” Lord Gwillym asked. “I said bring her to me, not reduce her to tears in the process.”

“Now, you tell your father what you did,” Braith said.

“I was playing in the garden when Nonna came looking for me,” Dairine said, still crying. “I hid under one of the flower bushes because I didn't know you wanted to see me. When she said that's why she wanted me I came out right away. She got angry because I was dirty and it would take longer to clean me up so I'd be later seeing you. I used the light to clean myself up. Nonna hit me and dragged me in here.”

“I see,” Gwillym said. “Now, you know I've asked that you not use your light unless it's important, and only if you ask me first. Normally I'd be very angry, but I don't think there was any harm in you using it this time.” He looked at Braith, his expression growing angry. “I don't remember giving you permission to strike my daughter.”

“It's sometimes the only way you can get through to a child,” Braith said.

“I see,” Gwillym said. “I don't approve of such measures and if you strike my daughter again I will turn you out.”

“Yes my lord,” Braith said.

The poisoned apple

A stranger brings Dairine a sweet treat. But what is it in truth?

Dairine was humming to herself, a song she'd heard in town one day, when there was a knock on the door. She was long past the fear of opening it. An elderly woman she didn't recognize stood on the step. “Forgive me, but I was told in the village that there was a woman here who could help me.” She held up a cloak with a tear in it. “Can you fix this?” Her voice grew hoarse. “I don't have much in the way of money. I lost my husband several months ago and haven't gotten everything resolved yet for me to be comfortable.”

“It's an easy fix,” Dairine said. “But, forgive me, I can't possibly work without some sort of payment.”

“What about these?” The old woman held out a basket of apples. “They're straight from the orchard. I know they're not much, but it would be something.” She pulled one of the largest out of the basket. “If you want to know how they taste before you work, you can try this one. If it's not to your liking I'll find some other way of paying you.”

Dairine loved apples. She'd missed them living with the miners. They were too expensive in town since the orchards around the town produced the kinds of apples only the highborn could afford. She hesitated for a moment, and then took the large apple from the woman. “Would you care to share it with me?”

“I get my fill of apples during this season,” the old woman said. “Go ahead. That one's all for you.”

Gwillym's desperate hope

Lord Gwillym was married just the day before. Now he risks losing his daughter, who has been the most precious thing in his life since his wife died when Dairine was very young. In his desperation, he pleads with his daughter's playmates for help.

 Gwillym went down into the heart of the forest. He knelt before a short stone altar grown over with vines and flowers. He and Dairine were the only two who even knew this place existed. He clasped his hands in front of him.

“It is not normal for the father of the gifted one to come to us,” a voice said. He looked up and what once looked to be nothing more than a gnarled root turned over. A pair of black eyes peered at him through bushy eyebrows. It didn't take long for a group of beings to surround him.

“I've come to ask for your help,” Gwillym said.

“Where is she?” an ethereal spirit asked.

“Dying,” Gwillym said. “She burns too hot and her body is too weak.”

“When did this start?” the gnarled man asked.

“It must have come on her last night,” Gwillym said. “We were holding a ceremony my new wife insisted we perform. It is where a sprinkle of water from the important people is spread on the newlyweds. It came to Dairine's turn. She couldn't even hold the dipper. She dropped it and then ran off. We didn't find her until this morning, when the servants came upon her.”

“There is a darkness in your house that we cannot penetrate,” the ethereal voice said. “None of us dare step foot in there now. It would destroy us, and through us your daughter.”