Prologue

I steered my horse over the last ridge, and reined him to a stop, his chest heaving in exertion. We were so close. I could feel it. Hund whined and circled around us, sniffing furiously, his moist nose digging into the soil. I waited, trusting in his instincts to find me my princess. After a moment, he stiffened; paw pointing toward the darkest part of the forest in front of us. With a bark he bounded forward eagerly. I dug my heels into my mount and we followed.
We raced down the trails at a furious pace, avoiding low-hanging branches and brambles on either side. Ahead of me, the trail opened up, and I saw the clearing I had seen so many times in my dreams. I saw several short men clustered in a circle, and with a start, realized they were standing around a glass coffin. I slid to a stop and walked my horse forward, hand resting automatically on my sword hilt. The leader of the dwarves scuttled to my side, bowing and polishing his glasses on his beard, his eyes downcast, face grave.
“You came too late, my Prince,” he proclaimed sadly, and his shoulders slumped with grief. “Snow White is dead.”