Rapunzel, the One With All the Hair by Wendy Mass

the attic with him, and then returns for me. He lifts me off the ground as if I weigh no more than a goose feather. When we reach the attic, I see what a dreary place it is. At least the tower room has a window. He hurries me over to the stairs and grabs his own oil lamp to light our way down the dark staircase. The stairs twist around in a spiral, and Iam dizzy by the time he pushes the bottom door open. The warm breeze is the first thing to greet us. The second, about to step foot into the clearing, is the witch! Her gaze has not alighted on us yet, but it is only a matter of seconds.
    â€œRun!” I tell Steven, pushing him away from me and grabbing my trunk from his hands.
    â€œI will not leave you behind,” he insists.
    â€œWe must run in opposite directions. She cannot catch us both! Your family needs you. Go to them and hide where she cannot find you. I will figure out another way.”
    He hesitates, and in that second, the witch sees us and starts running wildly toward the tower.
    â€œPlease, Steven,” I implore him. “Leave now, or both of us are doomed!”
    â€œI will never forget you, Lady Rapunzel,” he says, kicking up a trail of dust as he runs into the forest toward home.
    â€œNor I you,” I reply to the wind.
    I do not bother to run. There would be no point.
    The witch is upon me in seconds, dragging me by the hair up the stairs. I am too exhausted to protest. Thankfully, Sir Kitty remains silent and hidden deep in my pocket. I am sure in her wrath the witch would not look kindly upon her. When we reach the open trapdoor in the attic, she tosses my trunk through it and I hear it crash to the floor below. Iwill not be surprised if she tosses me next. Tightening her grip on my hair, she says, “You are a stupid, stupid girl. I shall have to lock these doors, now that you know of the stairs. Who will feed you now?”
    I had thought MY PARENTS would feed me now. I had never planned on darkening the witch’s doorstep again. But I am too miserable to answer her. I may never speak again.
    â€œOff with you,” she says, fire in her eyes. She pushes me toward the trapdoor and I grab on to the rope and wrap my ankles around it like I have seen Steven do. It takes me much, much longer to reach the bottom, and when I do, my hands are raw from the rough twine. As I step over to my trunk, I feel a whoosh of air followed by a thump behind me. The witch has cut the rope.
    â€œNow throw it out the window,” she commands.
    All the fight now gone from me, I drag the rope to the window and push it out.
    I am truly trapped now.

I am still in disbelief as I lead our horses to where Andrew stashed the tomatoes. This is not the Elkin I thought I knew. He now has a big grin on his face and is humming the tune the jester was singing the night we got caught. I am pleased by this turn of events, but I still do not fully trust him and will be watching him carefully. As we ride, I glance back and see him take the basket of arrows off his back and tie it to his saddle. I follow suit, and also stash my hat and cloak inside one of the saddlebags. Ah, much better.
    â€œThere it is,” Elkin sings out, pointing to a tree a few feet to our right. Andrew has hung the satchel on a low tree branch so I will not have to dismount. He is very thoughtful that way. I plan on giving him what is left of my portion of the treasure after Elkin takes his share. I shan’t be needing it. Not that Elkin would, either, but somehow I doubt he would be so quick to give it away.
    I grab the satchel off the branch and am surprised at how light it is. I reach inside and pull out a paltry fourtomatoes. There were supposed to be THREE TIMES that number. I reach in again and pull out a note from Andrew. With my back to Elkin, I read the note:
    Prince, the garden was bare of tomatoes. I had to beg the head cook to give me these. I told him you and Elkin had to use them as target practice before the