In every fairytale the prince saves the princess, not this tale. Orla needed saving from the prince. In a moment’s notice, her mother would barge through the large tower doors, and announce the troll of a man she was to marry. She had to escape, it was now or never. Orla paced nervously in her lavish chamber, glazing at her antique grandfather clock that ticked away every passing second. She had to act fast, with a deep breath, she took a small step over to the window. A cold breeze, swept in as she began to push open the window. A small stone ledge sat below the window. The ground seemed far below, but Orla had no other choice.

Her eyes swung down to her clothes, before back to the ledge. She ran over to her sewing table, grabbing a pair of fabric scissors, and swiftly cutting her silk grown to a more manageable length for climbing. With that matter dealt with, she approached the window once more. The cold breeze hitting her skin, as she lowered herself down to the edge. Her heart rate, as she looked down. She swore she felt the ground grow further as she stared down. The garden below engulfed in darkness, as the flickering lights of patrol guards became distant. Adrenaline surged through her veins, Orla attempted to steady her breathing, and focus her escape, and she lowered herself down onto the ledge.

As she reached the halfway point, her foot slipped on a moss patch. She struggled to get her footing back. The terror setting in, as she lost her grip. Panic surged through her body as she desperately clung to the tower. Her heart pounding against her chest, as she attempts to calm herself by taking deep breaths. Her heart drops, as her other foot begins to slip. With a few quick adjustments she regains her footing. She continues down the tower, the reality of the situation now setting in. One wrong move and she will plummet to her unfortunate demise. Oddly enough, it was still a better fate then marrying the old wrinkly man her parents would have chosen for her.

Once Orla knew she was close to the ground, she dropped to her feet, landing with barely a sound. She glanced around looking for guards when none where in sight. She glanced at the tower she had just descended, grateful to be alive. Orla turned and sprinted toward the treeline. The thrill of tonight’s events coursing through her entire body like electricity. The feeling of the ground moving beneath her feet, a smile growing on her lips as she realises she is free.

With every step, Orla pushes herself harder, the world around her blurring into backdrop. Sweat dripping down her forehead, into her eyes, and down her nose. The sense of freedom building with each mile. Her heart beings to sync with the rhythmic pounding of her feet against the ground. Her feet only slowing when she reaches a clearing, miles from her old tower, an area which she knew guards not to petrol. Mainly due to the clearing being territory of the rivial kingdom. She rested for a moment, serene and quiet of the clearing. Her body aching, as the adrenaline begins to wearing away.

A deep voice broke the tranquil silence. “You shouldn’t be here, princess. It’s not safe, “ it said, echoing throughout the clearing. The voice was oddly soothing despite the words it spoke. Curiosity tempered her to turn around and face yet another adventure.