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It's past dark, but when you need the outhouse, you need the outhouse.
Isabel picks her way across the yard of her father's house in the moonlight, hoping to sneak back into bed without waking him.
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A silent shadow descends from the sky in a long swoop. Enormous talons close on her shoulders. With one beat of its great soft wings, the giant owl carries her off into the sky.
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All hope of not waking her father evaporates. She screams.
But of course her father cannot do anything.
"Put me down! Let me go!"
But of course her father cannot do anything.
"Put me down! Let me go!"
The giant owl either cannot hear her, cannot understand her, or does not care. It flies higher.
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Isabel does her best to reach up despite the grip on her shoulders and pick at its talons. She doesn't want to fall, but if she could somehow - climb its leg, maybe, pull out its feathers till it lands -
Until now it has been holding her quite gently.
Now it tightens its grip, slowly, until its talons pierce her skin and she starts to bleed.
Now it tightens its grip, slowly, until its talons pierce her skin and she starts to bleed.
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Isabel shrieks. Owls can hear well, can't they? Maybe it will find her too annoying to carry if she just screams and screams - maybe it will at least hold her gently again if she screams when it squeezes.
It eases off again. They're traveling quite fast; already the countryside zipping past far below is nothing she would recognize.
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Isabel quiets her screams when it lets go of her. The scenery would be amazing, beautiful, if only she could fly over it herself - instead she feels like she might throw up.
She does throw up.
It doesn't really help.
She does throw up.
It doesn't really help.
The owl flies on, covering what must be hundreds of miles of strange land. They pass over forest, river, farm, lake, another forest, another farm, another river.
Another lake.
There is a castle beside this one, a lonely-looking place with high walls and higher towers. Along the nearest shore, a cluster of young women in white dresses huddles under the owl's shadow. It swoops low, low enough for Isabella to see their frightened faces looking up at her, then drops her on her feet a quarter of the way around the lake.
And then it is not a giant owl at all, but a man in a long feathered cape, his hands digging into her shoulders as he spins her around and scowls thunderously into her face.
Another lake.
There is a castle beside this one, a lonely-looking place with high walls and higher towers. Along the nearest shore, a cluster of young women in white dresses huddles under the owl's shadow. It swoops low, low enough for Isabella to see their frightened faces looking up at her, then drops her on her feet a quarter of the way around the lake.
And then it is not a giant owl at all, but a man in a long feathered cape, his hands digging into her shoulders as he spins her around and scowls thunderously into her face.
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Isabel stumbles when dropped, but his grip won't let her fall. She looks around in bewilderment at the lake, at the owl-man looming over her. "Where am I - why did you take me - what's going on -?"
"Silence," he growls, shaking her by the shoulders.
He gives her a shove that sends her sprawling across the dewy grass.
"I am the Baron von Rothbart," he says, "and I can do what I please with you, Odette."
That is not her name.
But the word crackles in the air, and the talon-marks in her shoulders sting like they've been immersed in something noxious, and no other name is available to her anymore.
"I am the Baron von Rothbart," he says, "and I can do what I please with you, Odette."
That is not her name.
But the word crackles in the air, and the talon-marks in her shoulders sting like they've been immersed in something noxious, and no other name is available to her anymore.
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Odette shrieks - it hurts, she's afraid - and clutches one hand at one shoulder, one at her head, her name, her name -
The sting fades. The talon-marks are gone. So are her clothes; she wears a white dress of feather-patterned lace, like the other girls who are now just barely visible a long way off behind the Baron.
"Listen to me," the Baron commands. His voice fills her ears. "This is your new home. When the sun rises, you will leave this shape and live as a swan for the day. When the sun sets, you will go ashore and live as a woman for the night. When I summon you, you will come to me. You cannot escape. You cannot drown yourself. There is but a single way to free you: if you win an unclaimed heart - if one who has never loved before swears to love you forever - then the curse will be broken. Until then, my swan—" He smiles and gathers his cape around him. "Welcome home."
The giant owl hoots softly, then takes off.
"Listen to me," the Baron commands. His voice fills her ears. "This is your new home. When the sun rises, you will leave this shape and live as a swan for the day. When the sun sets, you will go ashore and live as a woman for the night. When I summon you, you will come to me. You cannot escape. You cannot drown yourself. There is but a single way to free you: if you win an unclaimed heart - if one who has never loved before swears to love you forever - then the curse will be broken. Until then, my swan—" He smiles and gathers his cape around him. "Welcome home."
The giant owl hoots softly, then takes off.
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Odette sits.
She touches her uninjured shoulder, gingerly, then with greater puzzlement.
She runs over his words, committing them to memory; she has nothing to write with here.
She gets up and she stumbles towards the other girls.
She touches her uninjured shoulder, gingerly, then with greater puzzlement.
She runs over his words, committing them to memory; she has nothing to write with here.
She gets up and she stumbles towards the other girls.
The other girls are all huddled together on the shore, a few minutes' walk from where the Baron dropped her. None of them is speaking or doing very much.
There is a certain physical resemblance between all of them, her included. Their height, the colour of their skin and hair, the shape of their faces.
There is a certain physical resemblance between all of them, her included. Their height, the colour of their skin and hair, the shape of their faces.
No one says anything. They look at her uncomprehendingly.
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"I'm -"
Odette.
That's not her name - she doesn't even seem to be able to make something up, though, can't tell them she's called Bianka or Ingrid or Verena, it won't stick, the sentence won't happen.
She is almost too stunned to be angry, but she is angry enough to be twisty about it. She's not going to go by Odette. She's - she's going to nickname herself, that's it.
"I'm Etty. Who are you?"
Odette.
That's not her name - she doesn't even seem to be able to make something up, though, can't tell them she's called Bianka or Ingrid or Verena, it won't stick, the sentence won't happen.
She is almost too stunned to be angry, but she is angry enough to be twisty about it. She's not going to go by Odette. She's - she's going to nickname herself, that's it.
"I'm Etty. Who are you?"
One of the women opens her mouth and makes a birdlike whistling sound.
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"Can... you understand me?" Etty asks, stepping forward, frowning. "Nod if you can't speak."
A different woman squawks and edges nervously backward.
No one nods.
No one nods.
It should be fairly clear at this point that no coherent answer is forthcoming, and indeed there isn't.