Growing up to be a crown prince is hard work. For Simon of house Tarthan, it's been expected of him since he was born, and his siblings as well. In his kingdom, the throne is not inherited but earned. The royal tournament draws closer, and the leg...
The forest of Glenwoadeshire was ever a peaceful place, serene and bursting with life. Animals of all sorts gambled and frolicked about, the gentle breeze whistling down the slightly overgrown forest path. Short cobble-stone walls flanked it in various places, once a proper fence between the intrusion of civilization and nature, but now had either been worn away, torn down, or scattered throughout the years.
Humans rarely came this deep into the woods, only ever the occasional hunter or messenger. Squirrels danced across the trees and between the branches, chasing one another's tails. A mother deer and her fawn grazed at the base of one of the mighty elders of the forest. A boar trundled past, snuffling for tubers in the dense undergrowth.
Keen eyes peered out from beneath a blanket of leaves and branches, harvested from the ground all around and built into a makeshift cover. Indistinguishable from the ground around it, the cloak blended in seamlessly as its occupant rarely even bothered to stir. Wildlife paid it no heed, barely even noticing the intrusion.
Truth be told, they did not see this person as an invader at all, similar to them in enough ways that they knew they had little to fear. The fawn even nibbled at a few pieces of grass, not a foot away from them. Moving so gently and quietly that it would not stir the youngling, the hidden watcher gathered a small handful of sweetgrass from beneath itself and proffered it on a scarred, tough-skinned hand. The deer sniffed at it before plucking them from the palm as gentle as a whisper, soft lips tickling the warm skin.
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The watcher smiled softly to themselves, the fawn sniffing their hand for more, but instead, they just retracted their hand and resumed their silent vigil. Brown, soulful eyes met yellow, predatory ones for a brief moment before the fawn's mother called and it scampered away. There was something in the air. Squirrels paused in their chase-games, the boar quickly trundled away, and the two deer loped off into the deeper sections of the forest. The source of their alarm came a moment later.
The steady clip-clop of shod hooves began to echo down the trail. The rattle and clatter of armor came not a few seconds later. A distant shape appeared over the rise of the forest trail. The eyes narrowed.
'Here we are,' the watcher thought. They scooted slowly back to their pre-prepared place near a fallen tree, gathering a line of cord in their rough hands and beginning to slowly tug it taut. Sharp ears flicked towards the advancing horseman, twitching with every step the mount took nearer to the trap. The rope snagged on its hook and caught, quivering softly in place as they tested it with a sharp nail. Nice and tight.
A few more steps, that was all that it would take. Just a few more. They plucked up their weapons one by one. It never hurt to be prepared...
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