Chapter 22
DON’T THINK OF WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN.
There’s only the huntsman now.
And yet.
What might have happened, if you’d never gone checking the snares that morning?
What might you have been, if you’d never been taken into the Fair Queen’s palace?
What would your life be like if, at any point, you’d run away?
Would the old huntsman have chased you, if you’d taken off into the woods, never to be seen again?
Did he hope that you would? Was there ever a chance you could have been there when Favorite became human again?
Is he human again? Did Gertrude succeed?
You’ve heard nothing, and you know better than to ask the Fair Queen for a favor.
Only when Friend licks your face do you stop asking these questions.
It’s late. You need to sleep.
Remember: there was no other way for this story to go. Don’t bother with what if. There is no what could have been. There was only this one path. You never had choices. Why torture yourself pretending?
From your place on the bedroom floor, you stare out your window, into a darkness made turbulent by a blizzard. The snowflakes whirl like swan feathers, ripped from a pillow, falling off a bird made prince again…
* * *
In this way, seven more years go by.