So, after having written a one shot for SWATH I realized that my creative juices were still flowing. And so with my Saturday night plans ruined (not feeling so hot at the moment,) I get to kick back and type away another idea, as my oh so lovely sister makes me a tea. Being sick has its upsides, no? Ha! Anyways, enjoy! I hope the this chapter isn't too dry, really trying to work these two's dynamic. I am also open to suggestions! Any idea's you'd like to incorporate or like to see let me know! I'll do the best I can :)

Snow White trailed behind him, keeping her eye on him as she watched him hack away at branches and other obstacles that had the misfortune to be in their way. She had no way of knowing why he had decided to help her escape from the Queen, yes she had promised him gold, a hundred pieces in fact but he could plainly see had nothing save for the clothing on her back. She was dirty, tired, wearing old, ill-fitting clothing and near starved and yet he had not voiced the question she could see on his mind.

If she did in fact have all this gold, why was she in such a sad state.

But he had agreed nonetheless, pushing forward silently, the only sounds were his grunts as she swung his ax and the distinct thud when it met with its target. Pity she mused was what had caused him to agree and she was not so proud as to refuse, in fact, she openly accepted any pity as long as it aided her. She did not trust him entirely, but he was her only ally at this point and it was better to stay with someone who knew the land as it seemed he did.

Their earlier conversation played through her mind, he was not loyal to the Queen, or any Royal for that matter. Also that it was her own father's fault that the land was in turmoil that it had sickened, attacked itself and fallen. She had never thought this before, everything in her mind was Ravenna's doing but it had been her father who had brought her here, so entranced by her unnatural beauty. Recalling his statement that all Royals were damned played through her mind, she certainly felt she was. Perhaps his words had a string of truth to them.

The thoughts died away however as he continued to push her forward, never pausing for more than a handful of minutes to listen intently, or examine something closely before choosing a direction. Her stomach ached terribly, she had not eaten that morning, her meal forgotten to be sent up it seemed and fear had filled it earlier making all thought of food escape her mind. But now it reminded her fiercely just how empty it was, sending sharp pains that cramped her sides and made her head swim.

The huntsman was mumbling obscenities at a particularly thick branch when she spotted a small bush to her left. Blueberries; the very sight of them making her hunger intensify. She could pluck them and eat them as she followed him, surely he would not protest. Hurriedly picking them free from their stems she palmed as many as she could while he was delayed, some bursting slightly their dark, violet juices a stark contrast against her hand.

Just as she was about to bring her hand to her mouth, a sharp slap sent her hand away, the berries spilling free to the ground. It had been a hard hit and she instinctively stumbled back from the huntsman who now towered before her, his face serious and angry.

"Are you mad? You managed to escape from the Queen's men only to do yourself in by a handful of berries?"

Snow White's mouth tripped over words that did not leave her lips, so instead she asked almost stupidly. "What?"

"Garget." he gripped her wrist and turned it showing her stained hand. "Its poisonous, you'd be dead before it even made its way down your throat."

She looked at her palm as if it were about to attack her at any moment. The huntsman continued grumbling under his breath before using the sleeve of his coat to wipe her hand clean, rubbing vigorously. He moved to her next hand wiping that one as well, his fingers rough in feeling and handling.

"I thought they were blueberries." he scoffed at her stupidity.

"You think blueberries would grow in this place?" There was no answer. She had proven how of little use she was, of just how big a burden taking her on turned out to be.

"Hands out." his voice left no room for argument as she stuck them out, palms up while he removed his flask undoing its lid.

He poured his drink, the smell proving it was not water, over them and instructed she scrub them clean. When he did not seem particularly impressed by her lack of enthusiasm he took them in his own again and scrubbed them harshly her skin feeling raw.

"Any trace, any damn trace left at all and you put it near your mouth and you're dead. Do you understand me?" he looked at her again the anger in voice matched the anger in his face and she was surprised to see that his eyes were a lightly coloured blue.

She hadn't expected it, everything about him seemed dark and turbulent so she had expected dark eyes to match. Dropping her hands he moved back and studied her for a moment before his gruff voice filled the air once more.

"You're hungry, you should have said so." she did not offer an answer and he did not seek one as he contemplated his surroundings once more. "Stay here, I'll find us something to eat."

Panic filled her as he moved away. "Should I not go with you?"

"No."

His tone was final as he turned back to her causing her to once more step back from him taking note just how large he was in comparison.

"You make more noise than a bloody drunken giant, you'll scare all the game away. You stay here, make no noise, and touch nothing.I'll be back." he moved away before adding hesitatingly that if anything should happen she should scream and he'd come back for her.

Snow White watched him leave, not believing even he trusted his words.

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Eric made his way silently, his ears able to pick things out clearer now that the girl was not behind him managing to step on every twig. If he had not seen the dainty boots she wore himself he would of thought she had iron ones on merely to make this trip as difficult as possible. The men he had killed earlier likely had provisions on them and he cursed his foolishness for not thinking to take them. At least it would give them time to cover more land before the Queen became suspicious and sent out more men to investigate.

And he knew she would, if she had already sent out a party after the girl she would send more, which in turn meant the girl was valuable in some way. She did not look like much however, sickly looking and thin, but with a type of beauty visible if you managed to look past the dirt and stench of her. Perhaps the girl would not prove to be worth the trouble and the queen would lose interest.

Which then led him to his next thought; why he had even helped her. Admittedly he had been caught off guard when he pulled her from the roots and saw her face. Dirty and scratched, he still could not pretend that her fair skin, ebony hair and blood red lips was not a startling combination. But the Queen had lied, her promise sounded foolish to his own ears once he thought it over and he had to nurse the sorrow of losing his wife all over again.

The grief struck him so sharply again he could only grip the handle of his axe tighter, and try to remain focused. Perhaps that was why he had decided to help this girl, to scorn the queen and because no one had aided Sara in her time of need. Her words from earlier had stung him, if he returned he was dead and if he left her she would be. A lot of death it seemed and he did not fancy himself ready to die just yet.

His ears picked up the sound of movement and he quickened his pace, this damned forest played on your fears, the very air toxic as it toyed with your mind. The longer he left the girl the larger the chance that something was going to prey on her and the last thing he needed was to save her again, the gash on his chest stinging in reminder.

The huntsman toed the ground by a bush and a rabbit skittered out. He swiftly brought his ax down separating the animals head from its body. Bending down he examined it, it was a good size, it would suffice for dinner tonight.

Snow White saw the huntsman emerge before she heard him and she started when she saw his dark figure. The relief was clear even to him as he saw her huddled with her knees drawn up to her chest, her back against the trunk of a tree.

"Can you skin a rabbit?" she shook her head no. "Well you're going to learn. How about a fire?"

At this she nodded almost too vigorously, as if to prove she could in fact do something. He began cutting at branches, pulling away ones that had already fallen and gathered them into a bundle. This was a good a place as any to rest for the night, and the men behind them were not going to follow them that was for certain. The girl found kindling and was searching for something to use as a flint.

If this was the only thing she could do then they were in deeper trouble than he had anticipated. She did not complain when she repeatedly struck flat stones together, trying for a spark. He did not assist her, expecting her to become exasperated when she could not actually light a fire, and he would have another tick against her and her mounting failures.

Snow White continued to strike stone against stone, the tips of her fingers white from the pressure with which she held them, willing a fire to begin as it had so effortlessly done for her in the tower. She could feel the huntsman's stare boring in the back of her head, and she felt she needed to prove to him that she had skills to survive this place just as he did. And if she did not then she would pretend she did.

Relief, sweet and all consuming filled her when a spark caught and the telltale wisp of smoke billowed up, curling with the lack of breeze. She grinned when she saw it, but it fell from her face when the huntsman set the wood around the small flame.

"Alright then, roll your sleeves up, dinner won't cook itself." he settled himself next to her and produced the rabbit.

Snow White's stomach turned seeing the blood and lack of head, missing the sideways glance the man next to her sent her. He removed a knife and began explaining to her the process, slicing the skin away slowly and revealing its pink flesh. Snow White could feel the sweat on her forehead, just watching him expertly cut away its skin made her cringe, especially when he began to pull it away.

The huntsman could see her discomfort but did not ease on the girl although he felt a stirring within him that he should. But if they were to survive he needed to be certain she was capable of aiding him, he was not going to hold her hand the entire way. Unceremoniously, he held out the half skinned animal to her and suppressed a grin when he saw her face fall.

Without any real want to do so, she took the knife from his offered hand and the rabbit, her fingers trying to grasp as little of it as possible. She attempted to remember his instruction but had to fight the bile that rose in her throat and distracted her. Belatedly she realized the huntsman was speaking with her, instructing her how to use the blade, what she was doing incorrectly, affirming what was correctly done.

Snow White was grateful when he took the rabbit from her hands and sliced a line down its stomach. He made quick work of the entrails, Snow White closing her eyes against the sight of it, unaccustomed to images as these. The huntsman did not ask more of her, night was approaching, her work too slow and he was hungry.

They continued to sit in silence which seemed to be the preference of both for the moment. It gave him time to think of their next course of action, and to study the girl next to him whose eyes were trained on the flames. The same questions came to mind, of why the queen had wanted her so earnestly. She was keeping something from him, and whatever it was meant she was not to be trusted.

As silence surrounded them, the huntsman handed over a portion of cooked rabbit and she ate it hungrily. More like devoured it, if she was to be perfectly honest, her stomach pinching uncomfortably with each bite. She paid no attention to the huntsman who was eating with a lot more restraint than she, but she had not had meat in such a long while she was afraid if she were to stop it would disappear. Years of stale bread and nearly rotted fruit had made this meal feel like a feast, especially when he had handed her such a large portion.

Not ten minutes later did she then begin to feel ill. Her stomach full and uncomfortable, and not a breath after the huntsman asked if she was alright, did she spring up on all fours and become sick. The huntsman rose, like an all suffering man and came forward with a piece of cloth which served as a handkerchief. He handed that and his flask to her once she turned to sit and take in deep, gulping breaths of air.

"You ate too quickly." he toed dirt and fallen leaves over the mess."Did they not feed you while you were in that prison?"

She did not answer him, only gave him a sardonic half smile as she returned to the fire, the shadows it cast making her face appear gaunter and in turn, ugly. The smile and lack of answer merely made him wonder what crime she could of possibly committed to be locked away and treated as she had.

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Well this was fun :) Hope you liked it, I have obviously an idea where this is going but again anything you'd like to see or feel would fit in, let me know! And I'll see what I can do for ya! Reviews are appreciated, I like to know when I'm doing something right or when I'm being hella annoying.

laters, Spoony.