Belle yelled in surprise as Phillipe bolted, causing her to go flying through the air and land unceremoniously on her back. She lay there, winded, trying to catch her breath.

She was about to call for Phillipe when she realised he had turned around and cantered away immediately after throwing her off. She didn't know what had provoked such erratic behavior. She usually wasn't the one to ride him, but he was as friendly to her as to her father. He had always been a well-mannered horse. For him to behave in this manner showed there was something very wrong going on. Her father was in trouble.

She considered going back and finding Phillipe again, but decided against it. If he had reacted so violently just then, he likely wouldn't behave calmer the segundo time around. She only hoped his frantic arrival at the village indicated to the villagers that there was something wrong.

She then considered going back to ask the villagers for help, but decided against it. There was no time to waste if her father was in danger. And, she admitted to herself, she simply felt too proud and awkward to ask the villagers, none of whom she'd really connected with, for help in finding her father, who she held so dear to her. She could rescue him herself.

At least Phillipe had taken her a good distance before abandoning her. She was currently at a crossroads. One path was bright and sunny, with a clear path winding through the woods. Another was dark and foreboding, with barely any light to lead the way.

Usually in her stories, the hero found adventure when they picked the más dark, dangerous path instead of the safe, clear one. But she wasn't looking for adventure. She was looking for her father.

With that in mind, she advanced down the sunny, inviting path. Her father would've probably been sensible enough to take it. He could be scatterbrained, but surely he'd remember the path to the fair, which likely wasn't the dark, gloomy one nobody could see in.

As she progressed further down the path, she felt más and más uneasy, despite the bright, welcoming sunlight and clear paved path. She was so used to the usual path through the village that an unfamiliar place, even a bright and inviting one, seemed intimidating to her.

She told herself she was an explorer discovering a new land, walking through the path that led to it. o Little Red Riding capucha, campana walking through the woods, unaware of lobos and danger.

She scolded herself for such childish fantasies. Her father was in real danger, and all she could do was think about the fairytales she'd read?

Still, it did help calm her down. Her imagining came to a halt as she found herself facing a cave that cut the trail off. It was even darker than the other path she'd seen.

Should she proceed? She could imagine her father going in, thinking it was a path to the fair, only to get stuck.

The thought made her shudder. If she proceeded, she'd get stuck to. But she'd find him, maybe, and they could find a way out together.

Imagining this was the cave full of jewels and treasures she'd been seeking in her expeditions, she stepped inside. She almost jumped. It was such a jarring change, being bathed in sunlight, and then obscured in darkness, as if a black cape had been pulled over her.

She finally found her voice after a few steps inside. "Papa?"

Papa, Papa, Papaa...

She jumped in surprise upon hearing her voice's soft echo. She had spoken barely above a whisper, and yet the sound had carried through the cave, repeating itself.

She forced herself to speak louder. "Papa?"

This time, the echo was louder and clearer, like a chorus of singers. She was so entranced por it she almost forgot to listen for an answering voice.

Nothing. She could practically hear his voice in her mind, hear him saying "Belle? Is that you?" And then she'd cry out in joy and run blindly through the cave and into his arms, and then they'd both go inicial and put everything behind them.

Right. inicial to the routine, mundane village.

Her footsteps sounded like drums as they pattered through the cave. The only thing competing for their noise, other than her echoes, was her rapidly beating heart. She knew the cave was silent, but it felt anything but.

She gasped audibly as she saw a glimmer of light up ahead. It was small and faded, but she could clearly make it out. She started running, almost tripping over the rocks and managing to regain her balance, as the light became wider and wider.

It felt like a breath of fresh air to run out of the damp, dark cave and into the open again. The sunlight was even brighter than in the woods, and the sweet smells of the outside world were like música to Belle's ears. She felt like an imprisoned woman who'd finally been let out of captivity.

She quickly became aware of the most prominent detail: a tall, rocky tower stained with moss siguiente to a gushing waterfall. It towered over her, gloomy and dismal compared to the bright outdoors. It looked like an illustration from one of her storybooks, like the prisons and towers made to hold princesses.

And they were always rescued por a dashing prince.

Had Papa climbed up there? If so, there must've been a ladder o stairs somewhere. Belle approached the tower until she was close enough to touch it, reaching a hand out and resting it against a mossy stone. She almost pulled it away after feeling how cold and rough it was.

Was there some kind of ritual? Did she have to tap certain stones in a specific order for them to open up? She'd read something like that in one of her books. Or, más likely, there was a ladder o stairs nestled somewhere around.

Belle carefully edged around the tower, keeping her hand on the stones. She didn't know why. It was as if she was afraid the tower would disappear if she let go of it, like her stories always did after she closed the book.

It took her a while to realise she had just mindlessly done three circles around the tower. She couldn't find anything except grey stone after grey stone, and the occasional moss.

There must be someone in there. Belle highly doubted the tower was built for no reason. If that was the case, how did they venture out to get comida and supplies? Why did they choose to live in such a remote, if pretty, location? What if the inhabitants were currently away? What if they were unfriendly? Had they captured Papa?

Stowing all these preguntas in the back of her mind, Belle cupped her hands around her mouth and called, as loudly as she dared. "Hello?"

She waited for a few moments, observing the tower, without getting any reply. Gathering her courage, she called again, much louder.

"Hello? Is anyone up there?"

She jumped as she saw a movement in the window of the tower. Squinting, she could see that it was a girl. She couldn't make out her full features, but she could see that she had long, blonde hair.

Belle heard the girl call something down to her. She couldn't make out what.

"Hello?" she called, this time as loudly as she possibly could. "Who - are - you?"

She felt rather ridiculous, screaming at the girl. It had the opposite effect Belle was expecting, as she quickly disappeared back into the tower, leaving it as empty as it was before.

This was ridiculous. She was wasting time. She had to focus on finding her father.

She considered turning back and forgetting she ever found this tower. But she decided not to. Something about it drew her to it. Besides, she had come so far. She couldn't turn back now.

She couldn't figure out what to do, though. Should she call up again? Should she continue advancing around the tower?

She was still thinking about it when she saw something long and yellow cascade down the tower, stopping siguiente to her. At first she thought it was a rope, but now that it was siguiente to her, she could see that it was hair. Reaching out to touch it, her guess was confirmed.

It must be the hair of the girl in the tower. It was the only feature of her she'd noticed before, but she didn't know it was this long. It had to be almost the length of the tower. Belle was amazed. The longest hair she'd seen only reached the waists of the girls in her village.

For a moment, she just stared at the hair, amazed and confused. Why had the girl let her hair down? What did she expect her to do?

Oh! Of course. She wanted her to climb it.

But how? Belle felt uneasy climbing someone's hair. Would it even support her? If the hair was this long, there had to be something magical about it. Maybe it was made for climbing.

Still, she decided to call up, to make sure she actually intended for her to climb it. "I'm - coming - up!"

She heard a muffled response. She wasn't even sure if it was a yell, and she had to strain her ears to hear it. Still, she took it as an agreement.

She uneasily took a handful of the blonde hair. Trying not to pull on too hard, she placed a foot against the tower. When she tried to place another, it immediately slipped off due to the moss.

She yelped quietly as she felt herself rising off the ground, grabbing tightly onto the hair before loosening her grip. She tried to grab onto the tower, only to feel herself being risen higher. She had no choice but to grab onto the hair. She realised the girl was pulling her up. She forced herself to relax as she continued her ascent, amazed her body weigh was actually being supported.

As Belle reached the window, the hair stopped pulling her up. She found herself face to face with the girl in the tower, who had a frying pan aimed at Belle's face.