“No . . . it only made him angry.”
“Like poking a bear with a stick?” the girl questioned.
“Exactly,” Isadora replied. “The girl escaped the prince and went out on her own—”
“And he caught her! And threw her in his dungeon!”
“Well, no. He didn’t have a dungeon.”
Her granddaughter’s brows knitted. “Every prince has a dungeon.”
Isadora thought she’d need some wine to get through the rest of the story. “Fine, he had one, but he wasn’t near it. So, he only held her captive on his journey.”
“And when does she kiss him again?” the girl asked, disbelieving.
“I’m getting to it.”
Her granddaughter sighed, put out. “Does he tie her up and make her walk behind his horse? Does she fall and get
dragged?”
Isadora wasn’t sure where the little girl got her imagination—it hadn’t been from her. “No, he wasn’t that evil. She rode on the horse with him.”
“But he’s supposed to be a bad villain!”
Isadora raised a brow. “You’d rather he tie her up?”
“Well, yes, otherwise she’s just following the evil prince around. She sounds silly.”
Isadora frowned; it did sound a little silly. “Well, he had a very . . . good sense of smell, you see. He could find her anywhere she went, so she had no choice but to follow him.”
“Like a wolf!”
“Like a wolf.”
“That’s why he has sharp teeth, he’s a wolf.”
Isadora shook her head. “No, he’s not.”
“I don’t know. I think he is and you are only trying to bring suspense to the story.”
Isadora sighed, her granddaughter was a handful, but at the least there wasn’t a boring day in their small cottage. “He isn’t a wolf,” she said finally, staying firm. Her granddaughter could persuade Old Man Briar he was young again.
“Okay,” the girl replied, drawing the word out. “So, what happened then?”
“Well.” Isadora pursed her lips. “She kissed him and lived happily ever after?”
The girl frowned. “She married the evil prince?”
Isadora shrugged. “The prince went to the chapel, repented his sins, and became a good prince. Then the princess and prince married, kissed chastely on the lips, had two children, and lived long healthy lives.”
The girl looked down at the wooden floorboards as silence rushed into the small cottage. The only sounds were the echo of soft splats as the man’s blood dripped off the table and onto the floor. The little girl bit her lip, tilting her head. “But, Grandmother, that’s not how it went at all.”
Isadora sighed. “I told you that you couldn’t twist the story how you wanted.”
“But I’m not. That’s not how it went.”
Isadora put a hand on her hip. “Then how did it go?”