The walkway was lined with soldiers, who started to move towards her, but as soon as Cinderella gathered up her skirts they lunged backwards, as if she had hit them, and avoided looking at her.
At the bottom stairs Cinderella’s mice-horses neighed to her and twitched their noses twice as fast as usual. The carriage driver baaed at her, and the goat-footgirl had the carriage door open. The orange interior of the carriage glowed in the night.
Cinderella was almost clear. She picked up her pace, but one of her glass slippers slipped and skid out from underneath her. Cinderella fell into a soldier, who steadied her by her waist before practically pushing her away from him.
In the bustle, Cinderella’s foot slipped from a glass slipper, but Cinderella was too terrified to care.
“Go, go, go!” she shouted to her unusual attendants before stuffing herself into the carriage.
The goat-footgirl had just enough time to leap into place behind the carriage before the horses took off, jostling and bouncing the round carriage.
Cinderella stuck her head out of the window to see Prince Cristoph claiming her abandoned glass slipper and shouting at the soldiers.
One of the mice-horses let out a shrill neigh—which sounded suspiciously like a squeak, and Cinderella looked ahead to see patrolling squads convening in their pathway.
“Don’t stop,” Cinderella shouted to the goat-driver.
The horses bolted down a side street, the sudden turn knocking Cinderella back into the carriage. “We’re taking a different route! The mice won’t know how to get back, and won’t be able to slip out,” Cinderella winced.
Soldiers shouted; whistles were blown, and Cinderella’s carriage rolled on.
One soldier leaped onto the carriage and managed to cling to the door before the goat-footgirl kicked him in the face, dislodging him with great effectiveness.
The soldiers seemed unwilling to use weapons against Cinderella, her attendants, and her great round carriage, but they showed an unfortunate deftness in building barricades out of crates and barrels.
“No, not that way,” Cinderella cried when the mice-horses took another turn that faced them in the direction of the palace. She leaned out of the window to direct her brave steeds and driver. “Quick, take the side street on the left—the one that has the empty beer keg by it—yes!” Cinderella said before pulling herself back in the carriage, for it was a tight squeeze, and in several spots the carriage grazed the alley walls.
“As soon as the alley opens into a main road, take a left—perfect!” Cinderella said. “Now RUN!”
Soldiers on foot pursued them, but thankfully none were mounted. Yet.
Cinderella’s heart thundered in relief when she saw the city gates. “We’re almost there! We can lose them in the woods and fields!” Cinderella told her mice-horses and goat-attendants.
“Close the gates!” soldiers shouted, blowing their whistles.
“We have to get through!” Cinderella said.
The great wooden gates of Werra creaked and moaned as they were unhinged.
The bells in the city bell tower started ringing, their clear tolls sounding ominous to Cinderella’s panicked ears.
“We’re not going to make it,” she said, shutting her eyes as her carriage thundered along.
The mice-horses snorted, their hooves clattering on the stone streets. Whistles echoed from all over Werra, and the gates inched along as soldiers pushed against them.
The city bells tolled, and Cinderella’s mice-horses slid through the open gap between the doors. The round carriage got stuck—pinched between the doors—but the mice-horses threw themselves against their black harness, and the coach popped free.
“We did it! We did it! I can’t believe that we made it! Mice, I will feed you from my hand for the rest of your life!” Cinderella vowed as the doors swung shut behind them.
Even from behind the city walls, Cinderella could hear the soldiers working furiously to open the doors. A soldier standing watch on the wall blew his whistle and motioned in Cinderella’s direction.
“Quick, into the trees,” Cinderella said. They had come out on the wrong side of Werra and were reasonably far from Aveyron’s lands. But Cinderella was satisfied they were out at all—and the different location was a blessing, for the land surrounding the gate was heavily forested for hunting purposes.
The city bells still rang as Cinderella and her entourage disappeared into the trees. Cinderella threw herself out of the carriage just as it started shrinking, collapsing around her. The black harnesses dropped from the horses, who were temporarily shrouded in smoke with the driver and footgirl when the last bell tolled.