Garland Neige`’s life took an unexpected and fantastic turn, when a dwarf hobbled across her path. There Garland was, crunching her way along the snow lain path to school, surrounded on either side by a sleepy wall of pine trees, her friend and schoolmate, Amy, trudging beside her, when the rustling of branches announced the coming of a dwarf-like character dressed entirely in the skins of animals that most definitely had not lived anywhere near Patria, Oregon for hundreds of years. He was a stocky little character; four feet tall at most and almost as round. He held a bow, and a sheath of arrows rested on his back. Most impressive was his thick grey beard, which had been groomed into an elaborate pattern of ringlets and braids.

Amy and Garland ducked behind a wide tree trunk at the site of the dwarf; not once ever had the two fourteen-year-olds crossed another being while trekking their way to school, unless you count the squirrels and birds, much less a character straight out of Lord of the Rings. Yet Garland was drawn to the dwarf. The allure of an adventure hidden amid the grayish world of Patria in February overcame her, and Garland popped out of her hiding place the moment the bow-bearing dwarf had exited back into the woods, and strode determinedly after him.

“Where do think you’re going?” Amy whispered loudly as she caught up with Garland, who had made her way just beyond the wall of tree trunks, into the forest.

Garland paused momentarily, “To wherever that guy is.”

Amy looked disturbed, “Are you crazy? That man was obviously insane! He’s probably hunting us as we speak! Didn’t you see his bow and arrow? What sane person walks around at seven in the morning, in the woods, with a bow and arrow slung across his back? And that beard!”

Garland grabbed Amy by the shoulders and shook her as she spoke, “Calm! The heck! Down! I just want to see where he’s going. If worst comes to worst, you always have that pepper spray your mom gave you. I think it’s about time we had ourselves a good adventure, and this reeks of one.” She began walking forward again. Amy followed closely behind, poised to spray any insane dwarfs to cross her path with mace.

Garland traveled as quickly as she could through the icy forest. Amy stumbled along behind her. It was not a smooth path, and thrice she tripped over a stray log or bush. Garland strode confidently and sturdily, if only for the sake of her high strung companion’s mentality.

After ten or so minutes of tramping through the less than ideal terrain, Garland caught site of the little man, “There he is!”

“Garland,” Amy uttered shakily. “I think it’s time we headed back, we’re gonna be late for sc-sc-school.”

“Come on, you baby.”
And Amy knew there was no use arguing with her stubborn friend.
For half a mile more, Amy and Garland less than stealthily stalked the dwarf. Though small and stout, the man was obviously accustomed to traveling in the woods, and so moved swiftly in comparison to the klutzy teen adventurers. Eventually, all three came to a steep snow covered trench at the center of which, ran a shallow stream that carved its way into a stone cavern on the edge of the trench. The man was moving down the trench.
Garland and Amy stooped behind a forsaken, snow covered tree stump, and observed the man. At first, he attempted to crawl down the snow covered slope of the trench. He seemed to quickly lose patience with the monotonous task, and so sat down on his bottom, and slid down like a sled, landing in the creek with an ear-shattering splash. He stood up immediately. The water hit his waist. Then another odd thing happened; the man dove under the current and disappeared, vanished, splashed away, and completely dematerialized.
“Oh my God!” Amy screamed, “He drowned, and we’re the only witnesses!”
“No, look; the water’s crystal clear, we would see his body. He just…dissolved.” Garland stood up, “Hold on, I think I saw something, if only I could get a closer...” Her right foot slipped off the unstable snow, and Garland tumbled down the snowy bank.

As Garland splashed down, she felt a bitter cold envelope her body, penetrating every inch of her skin. She struggled to get her face above water, but it was no use, she was anchored to the muddy river bottom by her soaked winter clothes. Her chest began to burn out of thirst for oxygen, and panic set in as she realized she was drowning. Where was Amy? Where had that man gone? Thick clouds of fog billowed into her brain, and as Garland’s consciousness wavered, she felt light, but not in the way death was supposed to feel, almost as if she was...disintegrating.
Suddenly, Garland no longer needed felt the need to breathe. She was flying…through water. It was all very perplexing.
And then it ended. Garland was thrustd onto the ground. She gasped for air. Slowly she became aware of reality again. Garland was in a snowy wood, but it was all very different; the air smelled sweet, like honey, but there was something familiar about it too. As far as the eye could see, everything was dusted in the most wonderful powdery snow. The sky was a magnificent shade of blue which Garland had never seen before. And it was warm. Garland stripped off her coat and snow pants, which she found to be completely dry. That’s peculiar. She thought. How long had she been there?
Rustle. The forest whispered Garland’s eyes darted to the source of the sound, the forest ahead of her. The dwarf, he was right in front of her stealing into the woods. “Wait! Wait! You stop right there!” Garland clambered to her feet and took after the man. The dwarf turned around only to find a flailing 14 year-old-girl barreling toward him like a mad bull. Garland struggled to stop herself, but had gathered too much momentum, and the two collided, falling into a comical jumble of snow, flesh, and a great load of cussing.
“What in the name of Hero is the meaning of this?” His voice was like tree bark, “Are you crazy, making such a ruckus in the wood? You’ve probably got us both killed. I bet you woke the beasts. You… you aren’t from here are you?”
“No. What’s it to ya’?”
“Oh it doesn’t mean anything to me, but I think I’ve got some friends who you might be useful to, so just come along with me, and you can tell me who you are and how exactly you got here.” His face twisted into a predatory grin.
Garland reviewed her options. She could bolt into the forest, where she would probably be eaten by the mother of whatever the dwarf was wearing, or she could always run the direction from which she came, and hope to end up back in Patria, though this man seemed intent on getting her to his “friends” whether she was intact or not. Garland’s most favorable choice seemed to be to allow this man, whom she trusted less than a rattlesnake, to escort her to the meeting area of his supposed friends.
“Fine, but first tell me who you are and what you want with me.”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that out here in the open; too many unwanted listeners. You never know what you’ll find in the woods. Now come along girl.” His hairy fingers locked around her wrist, and Garland felt she had no choice but to go along with that strange little man, whom she so distrusted.
After some time of walking in silence, the dwarf spoke again, “So what is your name girl?”
“Garland Neige`.” Garland spat it out without thinking, but was unconvinced of how much damage her name could really do, even in the hands of this little man.
“And where exactly do you come from, Miss… Nee-Jee.”
Garland shot him a cold glare. “It’s pronounced Neige`, and I live in Patria, Oregon, not that it’s any of your business where I live.”
The man ignored Garland’s comment. “Patria, I don’t believe I’ve heard of that. You know, you look very much like someone I once knew, it’s the hair I think.”
Garland wondered how her jet black hair could possibly remind him of anyone he knew.
Eventually they came to another clearing, in which laid a little house of logs. Well, perhaps little isn’t the most accurate descriptor; petite is more fitting, for the house was most definitely not little. It was three stories, each perfectly sized for a dwarf, high, and twice as long. It had more windows then Garland could count, with a flower box of the reddest roses she had ever seen extending in front of square of polished glass. The door was painted in the same succulent shade of red, and a perfect dusting of pure white snow was the icing on the cake. It was a heavenly vision from a Christmas card Garland was sure she had once seen in a wonderful dream.
“Stop drooling. Come along now.”
Garland gaped at the sheer extravagance of the dwarf’s great room; shining, hard wood floors the color of amber, seven dwarf sized arm chairs and sofas upholstered in red and white furs, as well as one full sized, and each was filled by its proper occupant, a wrought iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Most brilliant of all was the mural which was the first thing one would see if they were to enter through the doorway that Garland did that day. It was a gigantic map, stretching across an entire wall, painted in white and a dazzling glittering color which was a stranger compared to the silver Garland knew, studded with hundreds of rubies. She double took, but yes, the rubies were in fact moving. On either side of the mural was another red door.
Suddenly Garland was aware of seven pairs of eyes staring incredulously into her, those of the seven occupants of the fur covered chairs.
“Well, this is Garland Nee-Jee, and I believe she may be the answer to our dilemma.” The gazes of the chair goers intensified.
After a few stagnant seconds, a voice poured out from across the room. It was thick and rich like melted butter. “The resemblance is remarkable. Look at the hair, the lips. There is no doubt about.” The voice belonged to the one regularly sized man in the group, a tall, muscular man of twenty or so years, dressed in fine, ornate clothing, encrusted with jewels of all colors and shapes. He had thick, chocolate brown hair that had been combed and gelled, and his eyes were an icy shade of blue. His teeth were a stunning shade of white. Garland supposed he was handsome, but he was too perfect, almost, fake and something about his flawless smile sent chills down her spine.
“Will someone tell me exactly what is happening? Who the heck are you people anyway? And how am I to help you with your “dilemma”?” Garland was losing patience.
“Well, Garland,” The finely dressed man began in his buttery tone. “My name is Deinol. And the fine man who led you here is Gareth. These are his brothers.” Deinol motioned to the six other dwarfs; each wore the skins of another woodland animal, and held their own weapon. “Now bear with me as I explain our predicament: Many hundreds of years ago, a prophecy was made, stating that I, Prince Deinol of Golden Lake, would fulfill my destiny, by awakening a beautiful girl, with hair as black as ebony, skin as white as snow, and lips as red as rose, from a deadly sleep brought on by a poison apple.” He paused and a flawlessly pained look spread across his face. “Her name was Snow White. Snow White was beautiful, but selfish she was. Wishing to avoid the marriage which was imminent should I have saved her life, she fled away into your world, never to return.”
Garland did not like where this was going. “So you don’t get your dream girl, what’s the problem?”
“The problem, missy,” Gareth began. “Is that, until the prophecy thingy is completed, we’re stuck here in this forest!”
“And how do I fit into this?”
Deinol spoke again. “Isn’t it obvious; the black hair, the skin, the red lips. You very well could be the decedent of Snow White. You could fulfill the prophecy!”
“It only takes one bite.” Garland had absolutely no clue as to which one of the dwarfs said it, because her blood had turned icy cold from shock; she was certainly not a descendent of Snow White. Sure she had black hair, but so did half of the world’s population, but as she stood in that room full of little men, each armed with a different primitive weapon which ensured painful death, she realized she had no control over her fate.
“I suppose I must,” She tried to appear flattered. “But on one condition.”
“Anything.” Deinol smiled a perfectly venomous smile.
“Y…you must take me home once this whole thing is over.”
“But of course, Garland Neige`.” Deinol grasped her hands, and led her behind the blood red door on her left, up a flight of stairs, and into another room. “This is Snow White’s room. You will find proper attire in the wardrobe. The rest of us will be away. At some point today, you will hear a knock at the door; make sure you answer. Until then, you may do as you like, as long as you stay in the house. Now, I will see you soon.” He finally released Garland’s hands, and exited the room.
Snow white’s room was absolutely extraordinary, but what else had Garland expected in that marvelous house. From the pristine marble floors to the lofty vaulted ceilings supported by elaborately carved columns which resided in the corners of the room, everything was a glittering, ethereal white, except for a few splashes of stunning rose red. One side of the room was entirely occupied by glass doors which led out onto a marble balcony overlooking a gleaming, snow covered forest. A wardrobe and vanity had been pushed against two adjacent walls. Both were pristine and elaborately carved, and the vanity’s mirror had a peculiar quality, which Garland couldn’t quite identify. The room’s true gem though, was a four poster bed, which was tucked into a small alcove in the center of the room. Sheer white drapes hung from its posts, obscuring an exquisitely woven eyelet duvet cover. Garland could just make out a single red rose lying on the delicate comforter. Garland wondered at how Snow White could possibly desire to leave this paradise.
After admiring the room for a number of minutes, Garland strolled over to the wardrobe and swung open its doors as Deinol had instructed. Inside was a single dress, accompanied by only a matching velvet cloak. The gown was white and ethereal like much else in the house. It was floor length, with a slight train, and had an empire waist. Its underskirt was made from layers of sheer fabric, and was strewn with crystals, while the overskirt was velvet and its hem shimmered in the same color as the mural’s carvings. It had a rounded neckline trimmed with silver piping, the bodice was laid with crystals, and each sleeve had two poufs.
Garland undressed herself and slipped the gorgeous dress on. It fit perfectly. Garland had expected the gown to be heavy, stiff, and cumbersome, but instead, it was light and it was… perfection. Garland draped the cloak around herself for good measure. Upon opening one of the wardrobe’s drawers, she found a single pair of white, lace-up boots which she quickly put on, a jewel encrusted, silver tiara, and a ruby pendent. Of course, they fit perfectly around her feet. Garland moved onto the vanity, where she brushed braided her hair (assuming that lice were not an issue in that particular house) and placed the tiara atop her. She then clasped the ruby pendent around her neck. In the mirror, she looked as though she could be a future princess, but she felt out of place wearing Snow White’s jewels, and took off the tiara and necklace, placing them carefully back into their appropriate drawers.
Garland went down the flight of stairs, arriving back in the luxurious great room. She wanted to get a closer look at the mural. She could see a great castle was the centerpiece of the map, and from it branched out other smaller towers and buildings. Around the border of the map was a wall of trees, except for in the north, where some kind of water feature disrupted the partition. The land seemed to be divided into hundreds of provinces. Some contained only a couple of cottages, while others took over vast expanses of space. Rubies were scattered across the map, and Garland had seen right, they did move, some very slowly, while other sped around their provinces erratically.
It was then that she heard the knocking. Tap tap tap. Garland froze for a second; she knew exactly who was waiting at the door. She walked across the room to the door. “Who is it?” She asked.
“Just a poor peddler, my dear,” Her voice was like sandpaper.
Garland opened the miniature door, and shuttered; she had met this exact women far too many times in nightmares to not be affected by her presence. Her skin was like grey ash, as was her hair. The women’s lips were painted a poisonous shade of yellow, and a shapeless purple shroud enveloped the bulk of the women’s bony figure. But absolute worst of all were her eyes; they were nothing but lusterless black bullets amid a pool of milk, held in place by bloody snakes.
“Good day young lady,” She rasped in her sandpaper voice. “I bring sweet red apples, free of charge.” A white, skeletal hand slithered out of the women’s purple abyss, a stark contrast to the luscious, blood-red apple it grasped.
Garland immediately felt herself gravitating toward the beautiful, crimson-red object. It looked so wonderful.
But it most certainly was not.
And she was most certainly not Snow White. She had fallen into a trap.
She suddenly felt that, were she to eat the apple, there would be no prince to awaken her.
Garland barreled into the hag and through the doorway. The air was no longer sweet and warm, but completely frozen solid. Unfriendly hands grasp her by the neck. A second set took hold of Garland’s flailing legs. Deinol appeared in front of her. He showed his too-white teeth in a sinister expression of the pure malice, or maybe madness. Then Deinol shoved the scarlet-red apple in between Garland’s two rows of teeth.
Blood. Garland tasted human blood. The poison seized her body. Her senses dulled, and the glittering, enchanted forest dissipated into a cloud of grayness. There was movement around her, someone laughing. Then the pain came; deep searing pain, possessing her entire body. And finally, nothing. Garland Neige` was dead to the world.

Two twinkling emeralds hovered in the cloudy half consciousness of Garland’s poisoned mind. Warmth, she was melting after a long winter. Her thoughts diluted once more.

When once more Garland woke, she laid on a cot laced with flannel sheets, in the center of a room empty of any furnishings, except for a single door, a sofa upholstered with animal skins, a coat rack, and a simple wooden chest. She was aware of a figure kneeling on the floor next to her.
“I am glad to see you’ve awoken.” The figure said in a musical male voice. Garland turned her head to the figure, which was a bit of a feat in her current state. He was handsome as Deinol, but the two could have been from a completely different species; this man was genuine: real, with wavy, golden brown hair and stunningly green eyes, dressed in a simple tunic, and maybe 17 or 18 years old. He wore an expression of unadulterated relief at the signs of Garland’s consciousness. “That poison was incredibly strong.”
Garland excruciating pain as she forced herself into a bolt upright position. “Who are you? Tell me now!” She cried. “Where am I?”
“Calm… You are still weak. I am Jacob Grimm. You are in Fairy’s Wood, in my cabin. I am one of the guardians of Fairy’s Wood. You have nothing to fear. Your abductors are far away now. Rest.”
Garland did not want to rest; she wanted to be at school, with Amy and her other friends. She writhed out of her flannel bindings, and onto a cold wooden floor. Garland lifted her corrupted body off of the ground determinedly. Had she been armed and physically able, she would have raised her weapon. “Take me home now, Jacob Grim!”
“As you wish, but I suggest you put on your boots and cloak, it’s quite cold outside, more so than when I retrieved you.” He stood up.
Garland wondered how long she had slept, and where Amy and her family thought she was. She took a few faltering steps toward her snow white cloak, which hung from a hook next to the doorway. She felt herself regaining strength with every step she took. Garland draped the wonderfully soft cloak around her shoulders and tied it around her neck.
Jacob, who had been rummaging around in the chest, arose with Garland’s white, lace-up boots, and knelt on the ground in front of her. “May I?” He presented the shoe. Garland slid her right foot into the boot, and Jacob laced it. The same was done for her left foot. Garland thought the entire sequence, after that day, was unsettlingly reminiscent of Cinderella.
Jacob opened the door. He was right: the temperature had dropped substantially since Garland had fallen into sleep. The wind whipped Garland’s hair this way and that, and stung her face. She pulled her hood up defensively.
The pair trudged in silence for a few moments, before Garland spoke again. “What is Fairy’s Wood, and what has happened exactly?”
“Fairy’s Wood is where the fabels go, the creatures you may know from fairytales and legends. It is in the land of Histoire, where all stories reside. A fabel may look like a person, but they are not. Fabels only love who they are predestined to love, and only hate who they are predestined to hate. They are simple creatures whose minds are trapped within the confines of their stories. A fabel is tainted when someone, someone without good intention, plants their own ideas or fabricated ones, into their minds, or if the fabel somehow becomes self aware. I believe the fables you met on this day were tainted. I believe they were using you in a plot to escape their own tale.” Jacob gazed ahead solemnly.
A frozen wind sent chills down Garland’s spine. “If they were trapped in their own tale, then how was Gareth able to get into my land to lure me in?”
“I have been contemplating this,” He began. “And I can only come to one clear conclusion as to why you were even able to enter Fairy’s Wood, as most humans are not able to cross from one land to the other, should they even find a portal. I believe that you are somehow important to Fairy’s Wood, or perhaps Histoire as a whole. How and why, I don’t know, but in some way, you are necessary.”
Garland’s stomach dropped a little at the thought.

Eventually, they came to a wall. It was about six feet by seven feet made out of a wavy transparent material. Upon closer inspection, Garland realized the material was sparkling, fresh water. Behind the wall rose a shimmering mountain.
“It is here where I bid you farewell, Garland.” Jacob led Garland forward. “This is the portal. Just step through the water and you will find yourself back in your own land.”
Garland nodded, and took a couple more steps toward the water. She looked back at Jacob, and then she stepped through the glittering shroud, and for a second time, Garland Neige` was nothing.

The endless, grey skies of Patria, Oregon glared through a window of water at Garland. She rested in the muddy river bed for a second, before flinging herself onto the icy riverbank. She gasped for air. Had it all been a dream? Garland had to wonder. Then Garland realized what she was wearing: a gorgeous white gown and matching cloak. They were soaking, but they existed.
Garland heard someone scream her name, and was confronted by a frazzled Amy.
“Garland, are you okay? Oh, you must be freezing!”
“I’m fine.” Garland tried to act calm to balance out the hysterical Amy. “How long was I out?”
“You weren’t out at all! You just fell in a second ago. Are you sure you’re okay?” Amy felt her forehead. “What are you wearing?”
So no time had passed. Garland felt a strange stirring, a peculiar desire, deep down. “I’ll tell you later. Just go on to school so you’re not late. I’m gonna go home and change.”
“But!”
“Just go ahead.”
Knowing she would not win this argument, Amy retreated back to the path.
The stirring in Garland had grown and now it and her better sense were waging a war, and her better sense was losing. Suddenly that impulse overcame her. She dove into the river, and for a third time, Garland Neige` was nothing.