Rump: The True Story of Rumpelstiltskin by Liesl Shurtliff Page B

there.
    Nothing would not go up the hill. It was almost as steep as The Mountain, and no matter how much I poked and jerked and kicked, he wouldn’t budge. So I reasoned that if he wouldn’t budge for me, he wouldn’t budge for anyone else, either. I left him on the side of the road, by a tree. And I hoped a swarm of pixies would bite his bony stubborn rump!
    Halfway up the hill, my courage started to drain with my energy. In all the excitement of being a hero, I hadn’t thought any of this through. When I started my journey, it was as if all the obstacles in my way weren’t really obstacles at all—just minor annoyances. But when I reached the top of the hill, I realized that they were definitely obstacles—and big ones. The castle was surrounded by towering walls with closed gates, and soldiers guarding those gates with spears and bows and arrows.
    Would I be a coward if I went back down the hill? What would Gran do? It was a silly question. Gran would never have gotten into this mess in the first place. Oh, how I wished I could talk to her now!
    I needed to think.
    I thought about what was in my way, and what I had to do to get it out of my way. I needed to get to Opal in the castle, but in my way there were guards and spears and arrows and a stone wall and possibly more of that beyond the wall. What did I have?
    An ornery donkey stuck at the bottom of the hill, a dry loaf of bread, and an old bobbin. And one more thing. At that very moment, a miracle happened.
    A horse and cart came up the hill, and the driver hopped down to speak with the guards.
    “Straw deliveries go to the stables,” said one of the guards. “Other side of the castle.”
    “This ’ere straw ain’t for no stables. This is for a chamber. Had an order for it to be brought this way.”
    “Tonight?”
    “I’ve got a letter.”
    Straw for a chamber! That had to be for Opal! The guard looked down at the letter the man was holding out. While they spoke, I crept to the back of the cart, unseen by the guards or the driver. I pulled myself up and dug myself into the straw until I was completely hidden. In a moment I heard the gates squeak open and the cart rolled forward. I almost laughed.
    The cart ambled on for a minute but then stopped, and I heard the driver unhitch the mule. The driver spokewith probably more guards, and then I was pretty sure we were inside the castle because everything started to echo.
    The straw was scratching at my arms and neck and everywhere. I struggled to remain still, and the itching stirred up an uncomfortable memory also involving straw. It had happened a few years ago. I was hiding from Frederick and Bruno in a barn behind a huge stack of straw. They were mad at me because I had sneezed really loudly in the middle of their older brother’s wedding—right at the quiet part. So Frederick and Bruno were chasing after me, trying to light my pants on fire. I guess I should have realized that a haystack is not a smart place to hide when you’re running from fire. The whole barn burned down and I barely made it out alive. Needless to say, my pants did catch on fire. The memory made me shudder. I suddenly wondered that I’d jumped into this pile of straw so readily.
    Finally the cart stopped and the man knocked on a door. A few muffled exchanges. I heard a woman’s voice, Opal’s maybe. Suddenly I was tumbling out of the cart, rolling in the straw as it came down. The straw still covered me on the floor, and I heard the cart trundle away as the door shut.
    I was just about to peek when I felt hands digging into the straw, pulling out big clumps. I froze and then someone grabbed my hair and yanked. I yelped and flopped out of the straw, hitting my head on the floor with a loud crack.
    “Oh!” said a voice. I looked up and saw a woman standing over me. But it was not Opal.
    The woman had a feather duster and a rag tucked in her skirt. She was older but tried to hide it with lots of rouge on her cheeks and lips. She