A Word About Brainstorming and Snow White/Little Red Riding Hood (opening)

I'm going to take a break from my usual format to talk about an important part of the writing process: brainstorming and prewriting.  For me, the two are one conglomerate step.  It all starts with a question.  Here is the one that has been bugging me of late:

1. In Snow White, why does the huntsman return to the Queen?  After he fails to kill Snow White, I mean.  After all, if the woman is fond of ripping out human hearts, she's likely to recognize a non-human one.  And (again), if she habitually removes human hearts, shouldn't the huntsman be a little nervous about letting her down?

Next on my list of SnowWhite thoughts is this--Snow White, like Little Red Riding Hood, finds herself in trouble in the woods.  What if they were one character?

From this question stemmed this stuff:

Plus several pages of notebook paper.

Don't read it too closely.  If, by some miracle, you can decipher it, it will give away the ending to this story.

Here's the beginning of this story, anyway:

                Names are funny things.  They seem to somehow define a person.  And yet, a name given at birth may not be a person’s true name.  Or, as in my case, the name that defines a person may change during their life.  I have two names, and you’ve probably heard them both.  You just don’t know that they belong to me.

                Once upon a time, I was born in a palace by the sea.  A perfect, pink baby with a head covered in a dark dandelion-puff of hair.  And it was then that I was given my first name: Snow White.

                My mother died shortly thereafter.  Sad, but for me, life without a mother was the norm—I could hardly mourn her as an infant.  And I had nurses and nannies to mother me.  Tragic as it sounds, I did not miss having a mother too much.  That is, I did not miss the mother I never knew until she was replaced.

                My father remarried when I was young.  The only things I remember about the wedding are how beautiful my stepmother looked in her wedding gown and a sweet-looking old lady who sat down the pew from me.  The old woman winked and smiled at me; my stepmother did not.

                After the ceremony I asked father about the old lady.

                She’s my mother, he told me quickly.  Then he followed his new bride out of the room.

                I tell this story because there are two important names to remember in it—and neither is a given name.  The first is stepmother.  And while most stepmothers are good and kind and may, in time, earn the name mother, mine was not that way.  In point of fact, she was as wicked as they come.

                But the next name you must remember is a cozy name, a safe name.  It is the true-name of my father’s mother.  And that name is Granny.

                Granny had, of course, a given name, which will be revealed in due time.  But the name that describes her is the name of a caretaker, a name of family.  A name of a friend.

                And what of my name?  What person does it describe?  Who is Snow White?  Well, dear reader, that is for you to find out.