52. Minus the Menace
The chill night air surrounded princess Rosella as she leaned on the ogre’s axe outside his luminous cottage. She
watched for many moments, the smoke puffing from the chimney as it curled lazily around the full moon backdrop of the
night sky. She had just risked her very bones sneaking into the carnivorous ogre’s cottage and now she had decided
she was about to increase the level of danger to your slender frame. Rosella decided to take her newly acquired axe
and carry it into the scary forest where glowing yellow eyes awaited the site of a bewildered young girl, and grabby
branches were eager to wrap around her skinny limbs.
Lucky for her the forest was located not far behind the ogre’s own cottage because Rosella was anything but a strong
girl, and the axe was quite large. What the princess lacked in physical prowess however, she made up for in her
courageous spirit of adventure. This she knew, made Rosella her father’s daughter. King Graham was arguably the
greatest adventurer in all of Daventry, but those are many other tales. Despite her admirable courage, Rosella was not
foolish enough to forget she was an itsy bit of a heroine, and thus with each little twig that snapped under her delicate
high heels, she jumped with a squeak as she made her way, trembling into the scary forest.
Deep inside the forest, the moonlight was cut this way and that by gnarled branches that split the pale light into crooked
shafts while casting menacing shadows. The yellow eyes in the trees never blinked as they maintained their vigilance
over the wandering girl in the vermilion red dress. Her lovely blonde hair swayed back and forth as she tried to keep her
saucer blue eyes on all things around her. This of course was not possible. And each time the intrepid girl’s eyes
turned away, a wicked branch reached down from the canopy unable to decide what part to cinch. Her long delicate
neck? Her slender waist? The small straight pipes of her arms? Or her long lean legs as they swished in and out of the
slit in her skirt as she walked? The tempting decision was almost too much for the wicked branches to decide. The
branches were in fact so entranced by each choice on Rosella’s lovely body that they failed to notice what it was that
she was dragging along behind her.
By the time they did, it was too late. Rosella stopped in the middle of the forest and took a deep breath, mustering up
the strength that she did have, and with a girlish grunt, she hoisted the axe up behind her. Half a dozen gnarled
branches that were inches from the princess’s lovely blonde head reeled back into the darkness as the razor edge of
the silver headed axe glinted in the moonlight. While the yellow eyes of the trees never blinked, there was no doubt that
they were transfixed on the curved death dealing edge of the mighty axe in the girl’s little hands. The tempting whispers
on the wind for the girl to “come closer” hushed, even the crickets stopped as Rosella grunted and let the axe swing in
front of her again and again. With the full attention and obedience of the forest, the young girl lowered the axe head to
the ground, and leaned forward on it, huffing and puffing to catch her breath. Too scared of the cleaving death to even
notice, Rosella’s skinny arms burned with exhaustion while her legs quivered as the adrenaline of bravery left her.
While not knowing what dangers lie ahead, the princess did know one thing. She had bested the menacing trees of the
scary forest and could come and go as she pleased without the slightest danger to a golden hair on her pretty little
head. With that, Rosella swung the axe blade down into the earth to seal her dominant reign in the woods. Releasing
the wooden handle of the mighty axe, she smoothed out her skirt and tucked the a few loose locks of hair behind her
ears, and headed north toward the cave of the three witches.
The Witches' Cave