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Between strange people, stowaway critters, and the frequent, yet varied, mystery stain or smell, the New York subways weren't exactly Jane's favorite mode of transportation...but, they were, ultimately, her best option at any given time. So, over the four years she'd been out of Storybook, she'd learned to just get used to it.

"Hey, watch it!" The sharp reprimand escapes the fable's lips in a crystalline puff of air as she narrowly avoids getting knocked down a rowdy group of friends surfacing from the underground. No two alike, however, the people were a bit harder to adjust to. Uttering curses under her breath, the young woman descends the Times Sq - 42 St station's stairs—step by step by step by- avoiding a mystery puddle- by step—before reaching the equally groddy landing. She breezes, chargeless, through the gate by nudging the turnstile forward and back in a brief almost-dance with her steps before settling in among the other pedestrians waiting for the train that would take her to 47th–50th Streets-Rockefeller.

Visiting the Rockefeller Center had become somewhat of a tradition for Jane, the majestic tree sitting at the heart of the commercial center the closest thing she could get to magic outside of home. It captivated her in every way and she always spared a while in its presence—be it braving the wintry cold to have dinner on one of the surrounding restaurants' patios, going ice skating, or do some shopping. Usually, it would be with friends or a date, but it seemed that everyone important was extra busy. And others: extra undesirable. Though disappointed, Jane tries not to let the loneliness seep into her bones to make a home with the cold.

Easier said than done. A brief sigh escapes her, still cloudy in the concrete underground, and she shoves her frigid hands into the pockets of her warm coat.