Into the Woods II Ch.1

Nineteen years later……..

Deep in the dark woods, dawn was just beginning to break. A bird perched in a tree. Spreading its brown wings into the gentle breeze, it began to sing a pretty little song, welcoming the morning. The bird sang joyously, thinking it was safe. Sadly, this was not the case.

"MEEEEOOW!!"

A flash of black and brown raced through the air at the bird. Frightened, it spread its wings and attempted to fly away, desperate to survive the attack. It was too late. With a bloody snap! the bird's life ended. The hungry cat sat down on the branch formerly occupied by her breakfast and began to eat. Her little green eyes darted all over the carcass, deciding which part to eat first. After a couple of minutes, she made up her mind and plunged into the tail. Blood oozed from the dead bird, staining her black fur, getting into the brown fur that grew like long hair from her head. The feathers flew down the ragged white shirt she wore, getting stuck in the belt she used to secure a perfectly-balanced dagger at her side. Her ragged little homespun trousers became even filthier as they became covered in bird residue. The only thing that the cat took care not to ruin was a pair of beautiful, brown-leather boots on her hind paws. Not bad, Catalin. She thought to herself, satisfied. 5.2 seconds. That's a new record. She licked her paws happily, very pleased with herself. This is perfect practice for the Cavalry, or a legion of knights, or even the Royal Guard, in which I will have to attack dozens of men with equal, if not greater efficiency and precision.

Catalin jumped to the ground, whipping out her dagger.

"Pray for mercy from…. PUSS IN BOOTS!" She cried, brandishing and waving her dagger, accompanying this with some impressive footwork. Maybe this would be it. Maybe in this kingdom, she could find some sort of army that would accept her military aptitude. She had traveled through kingdom upon kingdom for the past year searching for an opportunity to fight and to prove herself to be brave and full of valor and glory. So far, she had met with nothing but rejection. Catalin was undeniably an uncommonly great swordswoman. She was also skilled with an axe and crossbow, and could shoot an arrow into an apple on someone's head blindfolded. Catalin had even once helped to ward a dragon away from her hometown. Sadly, the odds were stacked against her in two respects. The first was that she was a cat. The second was that she was a girl. Catalin's heart had been broken when she was rejected as a page to a knight as a kitten due to species-and-sex-related reasons. The cracks in her heart grew with every subsequent rejection. Catalin had always wanted to be heroine. To be remembered forever for a battle she'd won, a monster she'd slain, or a life she'd saved. Most importantly, she wanted to prove to the world that cats, girls, and especially female cats could fight as well as –if not better than- human men. So far, however, she had gotten nowhere.

Catalin sighed. Maybe she should consider herself lucky. There were many ways in which this one out of her nine lives could be worse. For example, when she left her hometown, she had been smart enough to study how to survive in the woods. Thanks to this, she knew exactly what birds lived in which sorts of areas and were easiest to catch. She knew which fish could be caught safely and which could cut you or give you an electric shock. She knew what locations were best for sleeping, and how to check if any given cave had bears or wolves living in it. She knew what kind of dirt was best suited for use as a "sandbox." In short, she knew everything. Also, she mused, one good thing that could be said for rejection was that it gave her time to hone her skills. I should even be glad to be out here at all. She added to herself. At least my mother actually gave me her blessing to go in search of my dream. I'm very lucky compared to a great many girls, namely that dopey peasant girl I met a few days ago.  She sighed in exasperation, thinking back to what had befallen her on that fateful morning when a peasant family from the nearby village had decided to gather firewood from the woods in which Catalin was currently making her home.

Flashback!...............

It was a perfect day in the woods, at least perfect by the judging of a cat in boots. The sun was not shining brightly enough to overheat the cat in her fur, or to penetrate too greatly through the trees and partially blind her with its intensity. However, the clouds were not so dense and grey as to suggest a potential storm. All things considered, Catalin surmised, it was a perfect morning in which to practice her form. With all the skill of an expert, Catalin drew her trusty sword – well, dagger, really- from its sheath. She swished it around in the air and pointed it at an imaginary opponent, growling menacingly. She then began to slash, chop, and stab at various areas of her pretend enemy's body: the head, both shoulders, both legs, and the stomach and chest; all the while dodging and blocking strikes that continually occurred inside her mind.

"All right! Now the head. Aagh! That was wrong! I must work more at improving my slash technique. Oh, he's coming at you! What do you do? Swish! Clang! That was close. Now his stomach is vulnerable. EN GARDE! Success! Excellent! Now finish him"-

She was interrupted by a rustling in the bushes. Someone was coming! She turned, brandishing her dagger, her back arched as high as it could be, her little green eyes narrowed, their pupils smaller than pinpoints. She knew, having run into vicious bears, hungry wolves, and crafty, bloodthirsty trolls in her travels; that anything can happen in the woods. The first step to defense was preparation. Alertness. Not letting the enemy have a head start. She braced herself as someone bounded through the bush. She drew her dagger just as a small foot became entangled in her tail. She had no time to scurry away before a body larger than hers fell, squashing her to the ground.

"Ooof." A soft female voice groaned, and then gasped. Quickly shifting herself off of Catalin, the girl began to apologize. "Oh my goodness! Forgive me, Madam Cat. I am so sorry! Are you all right?"

As fast as a bolt of lightning, Catalin leapt to her feet and pointed her dagger at the intruder. "Explain yourself! What is your business? What have you come here for?"

Frightened, the voice piped up "I….. I promise n-not to h-hurt you."

Suspicious, Catalin looked over the intruder, whom she still held at knifepoint. The young human woman wore a dress of a muddy brown calico with a bodice of tan homespun fabric. A sash of the same color as the bodice encircled her waist, fastened with a clasp cleverly hidden behind a small pink ribbon. A stone of the same shade of pink as the ribbon hung from her neck by a golden-yellow cord. The girl's red hair was disheveled from dashing through the woods. Her pale skin took on greater pallor as she shivered in wonder, and her brown eyes were large with fear. The girl was obviously not armed, in fact she did not appear to have been carrying anything but a faggot of sticks, which had fallen from her arms and been scattered in the fall. Catalin inwardly reproached herself as she sheathed her dagger. This girl was obviously a damsel in distress. Catalin's ears pricked up. Maybe this girl could use her help!

"Forgive me, Miss. I was just leaping to rash conclusions."

The human bent down to pick up her sticks, obviously intending to flee immediately. Catalin rushed over and began to help her before the girl could refuse, unsure how to ask if her services were needed.

"So, Miss, judging by the way you were running, I would say there's a battle afoot…..?" she began.

"No." the human replied, and then gasped again. "Oh no! Mother's shawl! I was wearing it only a minute ago! What could have happened to it?" She immediately put down her sticks and began to wander the clearing, searching frantically. Catalin put down her sticks and looked around as well. Within seconds her sharp cat's eyes saw a purple shawl covered with a pattern that looked like a series of gold half-moons hanging from one of the bushes the girl had crashed through. She walked over, picked it up gingerly in her paws as if it were the most valuable treasure on Earth, and offered it to the girl.

"Oh, thank you!" The girl sighed in relief, accepting the garment and pressing it to her chest. Catalin smiled.

"So I assume you 'borrowed' your mother's best shawl for something?"

"Oh no." The girl sighed. "It's much more important than that. My mother….." The girl paused. She wiped a little tear from her eye. "My mother….. is dead. This shawl is all I have left of her."

Catalin's heart welled up with sympathy. Dead? The poor girl! What had happened?

As if she had heard Catalin's thoughts, the girl continued.

"You see, a long time ago, a giant attacked our kingdom, descending from a beanstalk. She was seeking a boy from our village who had stolen gold, a hen, and a magical harp from her and killed her husband. Many unfortunate people were killed when they wandered into her path. My mother, it can be assumed, was amongst them."

They bent down to continue gathering the sticks. Catalin burned inside from curiosity and sympathy for the human.

"What happened to her?" Catalin asked, grabbing a large branch and placing it on her pile.

"Nobody can say for sure. What is known is that she and my father fanned out to find the boy to protect him from the local witch, who had wanted to feed him to the giant. They each agreed to go one hundred paces into the woods on their search. Now, whether my mother got lost and wandered off in the wrong direction, or lost count and went over a hundred paces, or was detained on her journey, I can only guess. Whatever happened, though, she was found by the boy under a fallen tree. Giant footprints were everywhere. The boy buried her in one. I was only a baby when it happened." The girl explained. "I suppose this explains the exaggerated behavior of my father." She added to herself. Catalin, however, picked up on this last bit of information.

"Your father?"

The girl sighed. "I suppose you wondered why I was running through the woods like that." Catalin's ears pricked. She went on. "You see, my father loved my mother very much. Although he remarried two years after she died, I don't think that the pain of her death ever really left him. He always felt remorse that he didn't insist that she stay behind with me, or that they search together. As a result, he is very overprotective of my younger siblings and me. He never lets any of us into the woods alone, for fear that one of us will meet my mother's fate." The girl's voice took on an exasperated tone as she continued to speak. "It is very kind of him to care so much about us, and his concern is appropriate in the cases of my brothers and sister, who are but fourteen, ten, and seven. But I am nineteen years old! It is high time I was allowed to set out on my own. But he is afraid to let me. Naturally I am quite tired of this. So today, when my family and I were out gathering firewood, I seized my chance to see the woods alone. As soon as nobody was looking, I dashed off, and I'm afraid that's how you found me."

Catalin's heart sank. There would be no battle. There would be no chance to prove herself. Just a human girl whose father could not realize she'd grown up. Catalin felt a small twinge of empathy for this girl. After all, she herself longed for adventure and had been denied it. But still, this girl was unarmed. She looked too weak to pose any threat to anything now that Catalin really looked at her. And from what the girl had told her, she was obviously inexperienced. All in all, she was a sorry sight. Catalin could, in a way, agree with the father. There was no possible way that this girl could survive if, say, even a wolf attacked her. Sighing, Catalin handed her pile of sticks to the girl.

"Well, it certainly was nice talking with you, um……"

"Beauty."

Beauty. A superficial name if Catalin had ever heard one. What kind of parent, she wondered, names their child 'Beauty?' It certainly suits her, but wouldn't a name like that give her a superiority complex? Either that or give her horrible anxiety, trying to live up to it.

"Catalin." Before the girl could say anything, Catalin cut her off with, "But please. They call me 'Puss in Boots.'"

"Pleased to meet you, Puss in Boots. Have you lived in the woods for long?" Beauty asked, and then groaned as she saw the shadow of a short man in the distance. She heard her name called.

"Oh, Good Lord. I knew it was only a matter of time before he noticed I was gone. I have to make ready with a good excuse. Goodbye!"

As Beauty trudged off into the distance, Catalin smirked. "Yes, return to Father, Little Peasant Girl." She resumed practice. Now there is a potential damsel in distress if I've ever seen one. If I can imagine any maiden in the clutches of a monster, that's the one. While I hope she attains some independence, I also hope that she gains experience and knowledge of the world as well.

Flashback ends…….

Catalin sat on the ground, gazing out into the trees. That Beauty was a character. If she ever saw the peasant girl again, Beauty was going to learn a thing or two about handling oneself in the woods, courtesy of Puss in Boots. Shaking her head, Catalin endeavored to divert herself from Beauty with thoughts of the battles she would soon fight. Thoughts of the foes she would soon conquer. Thoughts of the glory that would soon be hers. Maybe this time she'd be lucky. Maybe this kingdom would be the one which would provide her golden opportunity.

"All right! That should be enough sweet rolls! Now, please fetch the baguettes!"

Chip the baker ran a hand through his graying hair as he watched his sons leap off of his cart and looked down at a list he was holding. With a smile, he pulled a stubby charcoal pencil from his apron pocket and crossed a line that read sweet rolls off of his list. Standing on the driver's seat of the cart, he gazed at his inventory. One corner of his rickety, weathered, grey cart was piled to the brim with crates of sourdough loaves. In the center sat a large box of turnovers, cakes, and muffins. The next corner was filled to bursting with whole grain and rye breads. Lining one edge of the cart was a queue of crates of loaves of the whitest bread Chip could bake. And now, added to the pile were ten large crates of sweet rolls. At this rate, I'll be on my way in no time! This was the day that Chip would depart on his annual trip to a neighboring kingdom to sell his wares at their annual spring festival. This trip was always successful. Chip always returned fully bought out and with enough money to keep him in baking supplies for the next year. And this year will be no different! He confidently assured himself, taking off his spectacles and polishing them on his ragged shirt.

"Cinderella!" He called into his cottage, "Are the biscuits ready, Dear?"

The baker's second wife happily strode out of the cottage, wiping her hands on a white apron tied around her waist. Since the giant attack, Cinderella had changed a bit, like her husband. Her hair, still as chestnut-brown as it had been when the baker had married her, was falling out of its bun due to all the work she was doing this morning. Her pretty face was tanned from the sunlight, and when she squinted her eyes, as she was now to avoid the sun's glare, one could see tiny crow's feet. She had grown a bit plump over the years as well, from giving birth to three children. Picking up her long, grey skirt so that she could walk down the step at the door, she called out to her husband.

"Nearly there, Chip. Five more minutes at the most." Then, turning inside, she called, "Charlie! Alfred! Please hurry, boys."

Two short, gangly boys with black, curling hair, the images of a young Chip, came out of the house. One, at fourteen, was more muscular than his ten-year-old counterpart. Both of them carried five baguettes under each arm. They playfully punched and shoved each other as they walked up to the cart.

"You needn't worry about us, Mother! It's Beauty who needs to be reminded to focus on her job!" Ten-year-old Alfred yelled, pointing to a tree next to the far right corner of the house.

Everyone followed his gaze. Sure enough, there was Beauty, sitting under the tree, staring off into space. Fourteen-year-old Charlie laughed.

"Hey Alfred, I'll bet Beauty's thinking about RAOUL!"

That did it. Beauty sprang to life at the mention of her undesirable suitor. The village in the vicinity of which Beauty's family lived was overpopulated with young men. Many of these men spent most of their time hunting in the woods and drinking at the tavern. These men were usually as cocky as roosters, boasting of their triumphs, belittling others, and chasing beautiful women. And nobody was worse than Raoul. The tavern was covered with his trophies, he was always bragging not only about his exploits, but also his appearance, his strength, and all of the beautiful women he had gone with; and worst of all, this boorish lout fancied Beauty, because, as her name would imply, she was the most beautiful girl in the village. Beauty fumed. Why did her brother have to remind her of him? Raoul had been trying to court Beauty for the past year. He was handsome, Beauty had to admit, but he was also vain, conceited, a brute….. in short, he was entirely wrong for Beauty.

"Charles!"

"Oh, come now, Beauty. It's clear you fancy him, the way you avoid him!"

"I will not even dignify that with a response." Beauty turned and headed towards the house.

"Look Charlie!" Alfred laughed.  "You've discovered her secret! She's blushing!"

Beauty sighed as she took the biscuits out of the oven and packed them in a box. Just my luck, she thought, mine had to be the two most annoying little brothers in the kingdom!  As she carried the box to the cart, she returned to her thoughts from before. Beauty had been dreaming again of the excitement that she longed for. She longed to leave home and see the world. Beauty had always wondered what the world was like outside of the small universe that was her cottage and the nearby village. She assumed that it must be a world like she'd read of in books: full of lush jungles, deserted castles, wild oceans, and a myriad of magical people and creatures. She desired above all things to be a part of the many adventures of this world. At least a letter from Chandler would be nice. Chandler, Beauty's cousin, was the son of the late Rapunzel, Chip's sister who was raised in a tower by the witch who had once kept him childless. Chandler was a year older than Beauty, but had the life experience of one ten years older. He spent much of his time sailing the seas for adventure, and he was always sure to write Beauty about his latest discoveries. Chandler was, however, a prince. As a prince, he had the free time and the consent and hunger for prestige of his family enabling him to seek excitement. Beauty not only had an overprotective peasant father holding her back, but also the many duties of helping to run the family bakery. She supposed things really would not be any different for her had she been born a princess instead – Chandler's twin sister had been married off at sixteen to extend the family line, never being given any chance to really live – but still, Beauty envied her cousin. Wherever he went adventure pursued him, while the only thing that pursued Beauty was tomorrow's bread. Beauty wondered if Chandler had any idea just how lucky he was. Her wondering was cut short when she turned to see a shrimpy, dark-haired little girl coming down the front step, half hidden by a large box of croissants.

"Mary!" Beauty cried, running to her sister and lifting the box from her arms. "That box is far too big for you! You'll never be able to see!" She gently scolded the little girl. "Besides, you just got over a cold. Do you want to make father's customers sick?"

Mary smiled at her sister, dimples forming on her flushed little cheeks.

"I just wanted to help, Beauty. I'm sorry."

Beauty sighed. Mary could be quite a headache for a seven-year-old, yet sometimes, such as right now, she could make herself so cute that Beauty really couldn't resist her.

"It's all right, but it would really be a help if you would just sit down and be quiet for a while, all right?"

Beauty placed the box on the cart as Chip crossed the final line off of his list. He placed the list and pencil in his pocket and sat down on the driver's seat, ready to begin his journey.

"Thank you all for helping me load the cart. I shall return in two weeks, and then we shall have plenty of money for baking supplies! And," he hinted, a smile building on his face, "Maybe a few other things. As a matter of fact….." Chip was now grinning from ear to ear in anticipation of the looks on his family's faces when he revealed his surprise. "What would you all like me to return with? I shall return bearing something for each of you. You all deserve it, you've been such a help in the shop all year and in loading my cart…."

At this, the entire family began to protest that this was not necessary, that all that they wanted was for Chip to return safely, that they helped out because they wanted to and it was their duty as a family and rewards were not expected. Chip, however, was very persuasive in convincing his family that he would like nothing more than to show his affection by doing this, and finally he had requests from the majority of his family: Cinderella desired a new pair of soft, sensible shoes; Charlie and Alfred wanted hunting knives with which to hunt meat for meals the next time the family was in the woods; and Mary requested a pink hair ribbon.

"And you, Beauty?" Chip asked, gazing at his eldest daughter. "What would you like?"

What WOULD I like? Beauty wondered. She drew her shawl closer around her body, trying to formulate an answer. Your consent to seek my fortune. Your confidence that I can handle myself. Your finally grasping the fact that I will not end up like Mother. One measly little hour in the woods on my own! No, she decided, it was better to ask for something that her father would actually be willing to give her. Something ordinary girls, girls who had no interest in gallivanting off into the woods would want. After a pause, she answered.

"Roses, please, Father. I would love to have a nice bouquet of roses, to sit in the shop and brighten up the room."

Chip smiled and nodded at his daughter. Then he turned and flicked the reigns on his cart. The tired old horse attached to the reigns neighed and began plodding into the woods as Cinderella and her stepdaughter and children waved him off.

As he drove into the woods, Chip could not stop thinking about Beauty's odd request. Roses, my foot! The baker knew what his daughter really wanted. She wanted to be free to get out. To see the world. To spread her wings and fly away. She would not be content staying at home, not being a part of the story that was her life. She reminded Chip of her mother in that respect. Joanna. Joanna had never wanted to stay at home either, no matter how much safer Chip thought she would be if she did so. When Chip had set out to break the spell that kept he and his wife childless nearly twenty years ago, Joanna had followed him into the woods, wishing to help him break the spell. She had even formulated an excuse as to why she had followed him there. Come to think of it, Beauty had used the same tactic when he found her after she had wandered away from the family in the woods a few days ago. She had told him that she had seen some very nice, dry sticks in the distance that would make wonderful fuel for the stove and that she was just searching for them. That was better than what Joanna had come up with : "You forgot your scarf." Chip sometimes wondered if Joanna had ever figured out that he always hated that ugly, blue and white scarf that she had knitted for him. It was ironic that since Joanna's death, that was the only scarf he ever wore. The memory of Joanna's death still crushed him. When the witch told him that she was dead, he felt as if the world had stopped turning. His emotions became a blur: grief, anger, sadness, hurt, remorse. His confidence faded in his grief. Resigned to what he thought was the inevitable fact that soon he, Cinderella, the lad Jack, Little Red Riding Hood, and the then-three-month-old Beauty would be crushed by the giant as well, he abandoned the group. Little Beauty was also a factor in his abandonment. It was clear she was her mother's daughter; whenever Chip looked at her he saw an infant Joanna looking back. This resemblance made him, he hated to admit, hate his own child for being there when her mother was gone. Luckily, after he left the group, a chance encounter with the ghost of his father led him to reconsider his position. On his return, he immediately reclaimed Beauty and wrapping her in Joanna's purple shawl and holding her close, he promised himself nothing would ever happen to her. The giant was defeated and Jack, Red, and Cinderella moved in with the now-single father. Jack and Red had been a valuable asset in running the shop, and Chip had happily seen them grow into two fine individuals. They were married now with three children, and Jack was the owner of a successful dairy farm. Cinderella, his gentle Cinderella, had helped him as a friend or sister in his time of need, and had taken Beauty to heart as if she were her own child. Chip had grown to love her and married her and she had borne him three more children, but……. He hated to admit it, but he was still in love with Joanna. Chip didn't want to have favorites, but he always secretly thought of Beauty as his favorite child because she was Joanna's. That was why he was overprotective. That was why he never let her in the woods alone. He was always afraid a giant would crush her, too. Or that she'd be eaten by something. He knew this wasn't fair.  Beauty probably felt the way Rapunzel had felt when she was trapped in her tower. Chip wished she understood that he only wanted what was best for her. Oh, well. He'd make it up to her. He'd start by bringing her home the most beautiful roses he could find. That thought in his mind, he turned his focus toward the path, humming a tune.

"Into the woods! Into the woods! Into the woods then out of the woods, and home in two weeks!"