The Grimm Conclusion by Adam Gidwitz

hair. She gave him his apple. He ate it in three bites, core and all. Then he began to leap friskily from side to side and paw the ground, asking Jorinda to play their favorite game.
    ----
    As the western sky turned red and gold, and the east became a royal blue dappled with gray spools of wool, the little girl stood up from her afternoon nap, stretched her arms high, and sighed. The little foal sneezed softly, and Jorinda kissed him on the nose. She walked to the edge of the little clearing and turned back. He was watching her every move. She smiled at him, waved, and began to make her way back to the castle.
    The figure crouching behind the hemlock stayed where he was. He watched the little black beast sneeze once more, shake his midnight head, paw the ground, and then turn and disappear into the wood.
    Fänger fingered the razor edge of his hatchet, shook his head, and smiled.
    ----
    â€œShe is not dead.”
    â€œNo, sire.”
    The king put his chin on his folded hands and looked out from under heavy brows. “I was pretty sure she wasn’t dead when she came into the hall for dinner this evening.”
    â€œYes, sire.”
    â€œAnd when she finished her cauliflower soup, and her bratwurst, and all her sauerkraut, I was even further convinced.”
    â€œYes, sire.”
    â€œAnd when she ate every bit of her black chocolate cake, I came to the unimpeachable conclusion that she is, indeed, NOT DEAD.”
    The huntsman bowed his head.
    â€œSo, Fänger, before I throw you in the stocks for mutiny and deception, I will give you one sentence to answer this question.” And then the king shouted, “WHY NOT?”
    Fänger took a deep breath. “There was a unicorn, sir.”
    The king opened his lips to respond, and then he closed them again. Over in a corner, the prince looked up from his stack of colored blocks. (He had had them since he was a child; he still found stacking them a pleasant challenge.)
    â€œOkay,” said the king. “One more sentence.”
    â€œI followed her into the forest and was about to pierce her little heart with an arrow, when a unicorn approached and put his head in her lap.”
    The king was staring now, and his mouth was not entirely closed.
    â€œMay I have another sentence, your highness?”
    The king nodded dumbly.
    â€œIt is a juvenile. A foal. It has a very small horn. But it is, without any doubt, a unicorn.”
    The prince shouted, “I want to ride it!”
    His father cringed. “Fänger, that horn . . .”
    â€œPriceless, sire. Utterly without measure.”
    â€œI can kill the beast myself?”
    Fänger inclined his head.
    â€œYou have a plan?”
    â€œOf course, sire.”
    â€œAnd the girl?”
    â€œAfter, your majesty.”
    The king smiled and rubbed his hands together. “Excellent, Fänger! Oh, this is excellent!”
    â€œWait!” the prince exclaimed. “After you kill it, can I ride it?”
    The king looked at his son like he had two heads. “Um . . . sure.”
    â€œGood,” the prince sighed. “I’ve always wanted to ride a unicorn.”
    ----
    Every day that week, the huntsman followed Jorinda out of the palace, through the wood, and to her spot under the great oak tree. And on the sixth day, after she and her little friend had parted, the huntsman set to making a great blind.
    A “blind,” in case you don’t know, is where a hunter waits for his quarry.
    â€œQuarry,” in case you don’t know, is what you call the animal that the hunter is trying to kill.
    If you don’t know what “animal” or “trying” or “kill” means, this book is probably above your reading level.
    On the seventh day, no one followed the little girl into the Kingswood. No one needed to. Because they already knew where she was going. And they were already there, waiting for her.
    She didn’t see them,