She sees the reigns of the horse bounce with the rider as he trots in knightly garb.
He's come round the Kingdom's woods in search of an adventure that'll melt under bicarb.
He comes to the river lined with rocks, and trinkets, confused by their mysterious meaning.
Morgan Le Fey must have haunted these woods, he concluded.
But who would it have been alluded to?
Who could have made this river's decor anew?
At least the water was an unnatural blue.
Certainly it couldn't pass as a controllable source, but it would have to do.
He unearthed his vile and placed it in the pouch beneath his robe. Who was to know he had this secret? Either blessed or cursed, who was to know?
Who was to know if the King would be pleased or if bakers were to fantasize about this newfound chemistry?
Who was to know if the modern Alchemy would take its toll on his soul?
Who was to know what level of greed beseeches him.
As he returns to his horse and is about to lead his way, he looks back one last time.
The trinkets resided no more, the rocks had lost their shine, and the water had turned to the color of mud.
