The princess lay sprawled in the moss, her stolen peasant dress torn and streaked with earth, golden curls tangled with thorns. Her ankle throbbed from the fall, every attempt to rise ending in failure. She brushed the back of her hand across her cheeks, wiping away stubborn tears and forcing herself to hold them back. For a long while, only the sound of her ragged breathing and the distant howl of wolves filled the night.

When footsteps broke through the undergrowth, she lifted her head sharply — blue eyes blazing despite her helpless state. A crooked smile tugged at her lips, defiant even as she clutched her aching ankle.

“Well,” she said, voice silk wrapped around steel, “are you here to rescue me, stranger… or to finish what the forest started?”