Hair. It’s just hair. Matted, gnarled, festooned with briars and—Christ, a vole’s nest? But it’s just hair, twisted, braided, strong enough to support even the weight of a Prince. And yet, halfway to the promise of his endeavors, he realized two things: first, that it wasn’t just hair. It was also little bodies, little eyes, hungry little mouths attached to hungry little creatures. And as they descended upon him, skittering up his arms and into every careless seam of his clothing, he realized, second, and screaming, why they said no one ever returned from the tower in the wood.
Author’s note: I’ll never watch Tangled again without scratching my head. And I really, really need a haircut.