“It won’t open you know. No matter how many times you try Prim.” said a black cat, which was content to curl up in the corner of the foyer, watching the little princess perform the first part of her daily routine in her blue morning gown, dotted with white stars. The ritual was simple - pulling on the handle of that great oak door leading to the outside world. The one that had denied her freedom. Every time she’d try to do things just a little bit different, whether it be tugging at a specific angle, with an increasing amount of force, to just pleading the door to open. That or she’d get overwhelmed by frustration and start pulling on the handle with her entire bodyweight. Said incident nearly lead the princess to split her head open on the stone floor when she lost her grip, only saved by the cats timely intervention. This time though, she seemed satisfied to gently tug on the handle with her index finger, and let it go.


    “I know. But I have to try Seth.” said Prim. She spun around, her crimson locks and hair twirling with her, kneeling down and gently stroking Seth’s back. Her amber eyes met his eyes, which too were the same shade. Though for the life of him, Seth couldn’t figure out why she was smiling. “You know today’s a special day.”


    “Really?” the cats response wiped the smile off the princesses face, and she squeezed the bottom of his furry chin, haughtily puffing her cheeks.


    “Don’t tell me you forgot.”


    “I haven’t exactly been keeping count of the days.” said the cat, trying to free itself from her grasp using every single one of the dedicated ‘Prim Escape Techniques’ he had mastered over the years.


    “You know I’ve been keeping track of it on the wall. A mark for every single day.”


    “I stopped counting after we reached a thousand.”


    “Well maybe you should start counting again.” said Primrose. “It’s my birthday today, and I am going to celebrate!”


    “Oh joy.” The cat leapt up the steps of the tower, after the princess who had an undeniable degree of bounciness to her stride.


    The plants in the garden had been kept as pruned and healthy as ever, the rows of plant pots all watered by pipes that were affixed above them, all originating from a cylindrical tank attached to the east wall, with a glowing blue crystal in the centre. Primrose plucked her favourite ingredients from the plants, humming a little ditty as her basket filled with raw sausages, chicken legs, eggs, stickleberries, a bag of flour, a bag of sugar, panilla pods, and jam spread. How the plants could grow the paper bags for the flour or sugar was a question both Primrose and Seth pondered, but ultimately left unanswered. Satisfied with her choices, the princess skipped out of the room, towards the kitchen which was next door.


    The feast was assembling itself nicely, as the pots and pans stirred and churned, bottles containing spices and salts floating around and seasoning the food as appropriate, the smell of cooked sausage wafting throughout the tower. Primrose herself was conducting her imaginary cooking staff with a small oak wand, dictating the tempo as a maestro would. As Seth watched on, curled up on a counter, even he wondered if too much isolation was bad for the soul.


    “Haven’t thought of any new escape attempts then?” asked Seth.


    “Not today. Today I just plan on relaxing.” replied Primrose.


    “So, same as every other day.”


    “Oh come on, you know that I’m always trying to learn new stuff. Or make things for when I finally escape from here.” The cat waved her off with his paw.


    “Wishful thinking. Like that time you thought you could make a crystal so sharp, it’d break through the outside window.”


    “I thought the window was just made out of something hard! I didn’t think it’d be magically reinforced!”


    “Nearly blew off your hand. You know I still think I can see some of the scorch marks on the window from that.”


    “Oh be quiet.” said Primrose, returning her attention to the food. “The windows are all reinforced, I’ve checked every single brick in the wall and none of them are a secret button. And there’s no book you pull to open a secret passage.” She turned back to Seth, who was still curled up on the counter. “What do you think we haven’t tried?”


    “I thought you weren’t planning any more more escape attempts?”


    “Yes today. Not tomorrow.”


    “Ah, well I’m fine playing the long game.” There was another haughty ‘hmph’ from Primrose.


    “Aren’t you afraid of becoming a dried up prune, Seth?”


    “Not really. For now I plan to take life one step at a time, and enjoy the moment.” With that, he decided to curl up fully, and nap.


    “I would’ve gone insane without you for these four years but- can’t you give me a little more help with my escape attempts Seth?” The cat didn’t reply, and continued to enjoy it’s mid afternoon nap.


    Eventually, after a good hour and a half, the food was ready, presented in the small dining room on several plates and dining dishes. It was all far too much for either of them to eat.


    “Okay, dig in!” And with immediate gusto, the princess began to heap food onto her plate, as she did all those years ago in the balls and parties she used to be invited to. Except this time there wasn’t anyone telling her not to eat like a trotter. It wasn’t as if she was gaining weight, and wasn’t the whole point of a party to splurge? Seth pawed a sausage off the table, and nibbled on it, having no desire to gorge himself, or witness the princess’s annual destruction of the sanctity of table manners.


    The princess leaned back in her chair, rubbing her stomach gingerly. She’d given herself heartburn, yet again.


    “I wonder if I’ll have any room for the cake.” said Primrose, letting out a longing sigh while staring at the iced fondue cake placed at the centre of the dining table. It had been decorated with strawberries around the rim, and sixteen candles.


    “You’re probably going to be eating it for the whole week.” said Seth. “Just light the candles so we can get this over with.”


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    “Always such the spoilsport, aren’t you.” With a flick of her fingers, a small red glyph manifested in the air in front of Primrose, shimmered brightly, then vanished. All sixteen candles on the cake were then suddenly lit, with a mild hiss. She brought the cake closer, leaned in, clasped her hands and closed her eyes. “Happy sixteenth Prim.” Taking one deep breathe, she blew out all of the candles.


    “Not going to make a wish?” asked Seth.


    “It was the same one as always.”


    “Suppose it would be useless to wish for anything else.” For a while they both sat in silence, sombreness seeping into the air.


    That silence was interrupted by a rumble. The plates and cutlery began to shake, clattering against each other and the table. The chandler swung, the shadows cast upon the wall starting to flicker and dance along with it. Decorations began to fall from the walls, crashing upon the wooden flooring, a cacophony spreading throughout the tower.


    “What’s going on?” yelled Primrose, panicked.


    “This is what we call an earthquake. It’s probably nothing to worry about.” A bit of crumbling rock landed right beside Seth, dust catching on his fur. “Nothing to worry about.” There was a loud cracking sound from above. “Okay, this might be something to worry about.”


    The cat and princess had made it to the stairs, stumbling over their feet as the shaking intensified.


    “Down or up?” asked Primrose.


    “We go up, we’ll have the roof collapse on our head. We go down we’ll get stuck on the door. And also get crushed by the roof. I think we should just say our last rites.” The cat placed it’s both it’s paws together in prayer. “Prim, it was nice knowing you.” Aghast at the cats resignation to their fate, Primrose made the decision for them.


    “Down!” She flew down the stone steps, her legs carrying her as fast as she could go, all the way down to the bottom, through to the foyer. In front of her, that accursed oak door to the outside. There was no time to think, it would either open, or it wouldn’t. Eyes closed, muttering a prayer to her father, she gripped the handle and pulled. It didn’t move.


    “Question.” The cat maintained his cool, despite the rumbling getting ever louder. “Have you ever tried pushing on the door?”


    “I-” The splintering of wood from above interrupted her. She pushed on the door with all her might, straining her delicate shoulder against the oak. It creaked. Wobbled. Then with one last push, opened wide.


    There wasn’t anything that could be salvaged from the wreckage. Once a tower, standing tall in the forest, was now just stone rubble, broken memories and the impetus for a journey.


    “To think, we were trapped in there for four years, because you didn’t think to push on the door.” said the cat, casually waltzing on top of the crumbled remains of the tower.


    “I must’ve leaned on it once.” said Primrose. “I must’ve!” She was knelt down, on the dirt, panting, one hand to her mouth, trying to stop herself from vomiting after running so hard.


    “Look on the bright side Prim. Your birthday wish has finally been granted.” Primrose suddenly perked up.


    “You’re right.” She gently brushed the dirt besides her, playing with a tussock of grass, the texture wonderfully different than the plants in the garden. It was the ''outside'' she had longed for all this time. Her wish had finally been granted. Pointing off into the distance, down the path winding into the forest, she yelled. “Off to advent-” The giddy feeling in her stomach had finally caught up to Primrose, and she puked off to the side.


    “We should probably go look for some water first.” said the cat, trying not to look at the steadily widening puddle of sick.


    Beside the riverbank, Seth watched the pot of water begin to boil over the fire campfire the princess had made. Of course, he had to go get the wood.


    “Why go through all that effort to boil it? And pour it through that strainer?” he asked, as Primrose rifled through the contents of her pink, flowered handbag.


    “Well, all river water is poop water.”


    “Poop water.” repeated the cat.


    “Yes. As in people dump their poop into the river.”


    “Did you read this in one of your books?”


    “Yes. I mean it makes sense, right? Villages on the outskirts don’t have toilets or even sewage. Poo is bad for you, and dumping it into a pit means someone has to deal with it when it fills up.”


    “The ever so enlightening knowledge that poo is bad for you.” Through the many years Primrose had been together with Seth, there were times where his snark was grating.


    “The point is, that most villages are going to take the easy solution of dumping it in the river, no matter who might be downstream of it.”


    “Makes sense, but you’re still drinking poop water, no matter what you do to it.”


    “Doing this at least makes it safe to drink.”


    “If you say so.”


    Once the pot had reached a boil, Primrose picked up a ladle that came from her bag, and began to pour water into a cup. She raised the cup to her lips and took a sip-


    “Ow!”- then proceeded to blow on her tongue rapidly, scrunching her face.


    “At least blow on it first.” said Seth. Rather than blow, Primrose elected to cast a spell, invoking a blue glyph. A chilly wind blew across the cup, that Seth could feel across his fur even though he was opposite the campfire from Primrose. “Guess you could do that too.” Primrose made a pained noise in the affirmative, as she began to drink. Letting out a satisfied sigh, she leaned back on the grass.


    “We’re good on water for now. And I’ve got some food stocked up.”


    “You’ve been planning this for a long time, haven’t you?”


    “Of course I have.” she smiled, raising her handbag. “I’ve been a rolling stone down a hill, and now it’s time to use all that momentum.”


    “To do what exactly?” asked Seth.


    “I-” she took a moment to think. “First I need to see daddy.”


    “We’re headed to Ingras then. It’s been a long time though, do you think they’ll recognise you?”


    “Daddy would never forget me. He hid me away to keep me safe.”


    “You don’t sound so sure.” A flurry of questions and doubt began to bubble underneath the surface of Primrose’s subconscious. She wanted to escape that prison she was stuck in. Why was she suddenly defending that choice to hide her? She had wanted to be there, by her fathers side, no matter how dire the situation was going to get. No, there was no need to doubt her father or his judgement, or to overthink things.


    “We’re going to Ingras! You can’t change my mind!” Unfazed, Seth continued to stare at the princess, upright, vigilant, his eyes reflecting the burning campfire.


    “Then do you know which way it is to Ingras?” he asked.


    “I have a map, but we need to know where we are on it first.” She produced a roll of parchment, bound by some twine.


    “How do you plan on finding out where we are then?”


    “Simple, we follow the river till we find someone dumping poop in it!”


    “Practical, as ever.” said Seth. “You don’t think that people might use the river to drink or wash?”


    “Actually, we might find other people travelling too if we’re lucky.” said Primrose, ignoring the question. “They might have directions too, assuming they aren’t also lost.” She yawned. “For now though, I’m just going to have dinner and sleep till tomorrow.”


    “Sleep where though?”


    “In here!” With some difficulty, Primrose began tugging inside her handbag. Whatever it was, it was struggling to slip past the opening of the bag. Eventually with enough persistence, she freed it. “It went in a lot easier than it went out.” In her hands was a hoop made out of a very flexible wood, judging by the fact it had not broken in spite of it’s prior abuse. Looking through the hoop, you could see a small area, with a small cotton quilt, a little stove, and some canvas on the walls.


    “You’ve really spent too long preparing for this adventure, haven’t you?”


    “It’s not as if I had anything better to do.” she replied, pouting again.


    The evening passed uneventfully, as Primrose made a roué out of some oil and flour, to thicken a soup boiled with some reserved jerky from her food stocks and wild root foraged from the forest. With full stomachs, both the princess and cat slept inside their extra dimensional cubby hole, till the first light of the next day.


    “My feet hurt.” The princesses pace had slowed down to a drag along the river bank, all prior enthusiasm having completely drained away. Her new adventuring outfit, a proper tunic, cloak, leather boots and leggings, fashion choices that had been consternated over for hours while inside the tower, gave her no extra lustre.


    “We’ve but only been walking for half an hour.” replied Seth, hardly any worse for wear.


    “I know.” she whined.


    “At least take the crown off your head, you’re begging to be robbed by the next highwayman or bandit.”


    “No. This crown is part of my identity, and I shall wear it!” she said, adjusting the golden crown on top of her head, which at least had the benefit of being stuck on there by magic.


    It was only one minute later when the inevitable occurred. With her feet pounding, her legs strained, she let herself buckle onto the river bank.


    “With this pace, we might make it to civilisation in perhaps a year?” said Seth, also choosing to come to a stop by the river bank to lap up some of the cool flowing water.


    “Poop water.” said Primrose, watching him drink.


    “Oh please. Don’t make this a habit every time we go to the river.” Just as he was about to finish drinking, his ears began to twitch. A familiar noise, too familiar. A cry of a human. No, several humans, all combined. He craned his head around, searching for the source.


    “What’s wrong Seth?”


    “Trouble is on the wind, it seems.”