People in the kingdom whispered about a legend:
a man who is strong and powerful. They said he took up residence in the woods, hiding out while committing random acts of kindness, namely stealing from the rich and giving to the poor.
No one dared t...
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Luna
His footprints were easy to track. I'd become proficient at identifying his pace, the agility and quickness of him, the manner in which the marks twisted to indicate a sudden pivot or silent leap. I knew those prints. They belonged here in this forest. They led a path to his heartbeat.
I tipped my head and examined the outline of his boots in the soil. Not too deep, slightly smudged. He'd been running. Playing.
Ferns brushed my shoulders and made whispering noises as I toed past them.
The white rays of the early-morning sun combed through the leaves overhead, flashing brighter than a gilded frame.
The gabled roofs of mushrooms jutted from the ground. Wildflowers bloomed, yellow and yellower, the bud-like eyes blinking at the first signs of summer.
The splendor of greens and browns. The promise of strawberry patches—I recalled being fed their sweetness hours after giving my body, for the first time, to a boy.
I shook myself, amazed that my cheeks could flare so, even after all this time.
Suddenly, I recognized the melodic humming that rode the wind—it came from me. I loved this place, for the forest had become my home.
Every particular of this haven built up the walls of my life. My fortress. My canopy. My peace.
Numerous sounds brewed through the wild. It was a good morning for a hunt.
Someone else had thought so, too. Because I'd woken up alone.
I tried not to be cross that I hadn't been invited to come along. Somewhere in this wilderness, I felt him darting through the trees, weaving around cracked trunks and brambles, his eyes reflecting determination, sharp as they scanned the tightly-packed landscape, plush with majestic creatures all attuned to the new day.
A sight I refused to miss. I longed to witness him enraptured and full of energy.
A nut dropped from above and skipped over my arrow pack, landing at my heel. I bent to pick it up, break the shell, and chew.
I gathered a few more and tucked them into the pockets of my hose. Far from the noble world, I could dress like a man here, reserving the finery of a lady—velvet skirts, ermine-lined cloaks, godforsaken tassels—strictly for visits into the village or the palace.
