Snow White and the Seven Souls
Arandell

The huntsman’s footfalls were light as feathers floating on the breeze when he left the alley by the cobbler’s. Such was the dexterity he had honed during his years working in the forest. Outwardly there was no sign of the burden that he bore. His heart was heavy with the knowledge that Ravain’s Princess had succumbed to the darkness. Her eternal soul was lost.

Well, he was not quite sure about that. Knowing very little of vampire-kind aside from a keen instinct to stay away from them, Mr. Tredwell found himself befuddled when it came to the technical details. After what he had witnessed, he thought that Snow’s soul would be severely befouled, anyway...

What was clear to him was that Snow needed to be stopped.

The problem that pestered the huntsman as he made his way through the village streets and up the mountainside was what he would do once he reached the palace. How would he muster up the courage to tell the Queen? He would rather face Snow herself than to recount what he had witnessed.

And how would the Queen break such terrifying news to her King, the girl’s father?

As for Snow herself, she returned home feeling slightly less empty, a little less lonely than she had felt before. This time, however, she knew immediately that the taking was not done. There would be more souls collected before she could be at peace again. If she ever could.

Of course there was only one soul that she really, truly needed. Deep down she knew this, but it was currently beyond her reach.

--

The news of Snow’s descent into an undead state devastated the Queen. She took to her bed for weeks, half afraid to encounter her fanged stepdaughter and half afraid to blurt out the truth to her husband. She needed to know more before proceeding.

To that end, Mr. Tredwell was called upon again to try to replace the remains of Snow’s victims. If he could replace the bodies, then at least there would be some evidence to present to the King.

During these weeks the weather improved as the summer days grew warm and long. Such sunny days hurt Snow’s eyes, but she was not unaffected by the pleasant romanticism that lovely days can bring. The hazy, flowery yellow-greenness of the world; the sweet, earthy scent of the grass as it grows tall enough to bend towards the ground again.

Snow even took to fantasizing about the return of the shadowed stranger. Sometimes she imagined that he would bring back the part of her that he took, with apologies and roses. Other times she pictured him all fangs and fingernails, keen on finishing what he had started. And still other imaginings had Snow exacting her revenge on the fell creature.

It was on one of these sunny mornings that the Princess spotted Arandell. She was a tall, sandy-haired young woman who worked as a thatcher. Arandell was the kind of person who simply enjoyed life. She was happy no matter the circumstances; flitting from errand to errand, task to task, as if work and play were one and the same. Snow noted with interest how everyone Arandell met seemed to love her. They all stopped to chat when she came by, and smiles were on all of their faces long after they parted.

“I used to be like that,” Snow said to herself, wondering if she could ever be so congenial and contented again. The hollowness inside her made it hard to imagine the possibility. When she observed Arandell going about her day so agreeably, she could almost remember what that felt like.

The first day that Snow saw her, she followed as far as she could without being seen. Daylight and crowded streets meant that she had to give up before replaceing out where the lithe young woman lived.

As far as Snow knew, her clandestine outings into the villages had gone unnoticed thus far. The Princess needed to keep it that way. It would not do for anyone to correlate her visits to the villages with the disappearances of Quinn and Gaius.

The second day that the Princess was able to catch up with the thatcher, something rather unusual caught her eye. If anyone had been skulking in the alleyway with her, Snow would have sworn to them that Arandell had fairy wings. In a certain light, when her body moved just so, the shimmering outline of large, delicate wings seemed to appear on Arandell’s back.

Snow looked on in fascination, waiting for a chance to see those wings again. She knew that she had to meet this person. Meet her, and then...

For the first time since she attacked Dalor, Snow felt a faint pang of regret as she considered what she might do to the thatcher. Faint though it was, the sensation was also jarring. Even the tiniest bell rings loudly when all else is silent.

Temptation won out over caution. Snow had few restraints now that her moral compass had lost all sense of direction. The soul, it would seem, acts as a kind of magnet to orient one towards what is right. Since Snow’s soul was at least partly missing, there came a day when the Princess broke into Arandell’s home to await her return from work.

Though she earned less remuneration in a day than the barman or the cobbler, Arandell had a little house all her own. Snow suspected that she had built it herself, considering the intricate and multi-layered thatch work and the fact that the structure was near a fishpond on the outskirts of town. The King allowed his townsfolk to build moderately-sized dwellings in and about the villages and woodlands, as long as there were no reasonable objections from the neighbours. Considering how well-liked Arandell seemed to be, she would have had assistance from the community in building her home in this idyllic spot, rather than opposition. Goodwill can be worth even more than money.

Snow found the interior of the house to be as charming as the outside. It was cozy and had a generously-sized space for the cooking fire in addition to a large dining table. The thatcher seemed to expect to have company at mealtimes. This was not surprising to the Princess, who had taken note of how popular Arandell seemed to be.

Waiting for the thatcher’s return was exceedingly dull, as there were no books in the place. With little choice but to think about what she was planning to do, it occurred to Snow that she should leave before anyone saw her. Arandell was sure to be missed if the Princess went through with her plan, even more so than the barman or the cobbler. That would call unwanted attention. Moreover, if Arandell were truly a fairy, Snow was unsure whether or not she could control her long enough to get what she wanted.

Having talked herself out of the endeavour, Snow was about to stand up from the dining chair and leave, when the door opened.