The last sliver of crimson light painted the western horizon when Surya and Vidyut returned to the campsite by the fountain. Water was foaming at the mouth of the lake, the crimson sunlight scattered in all directions like a thousand embers. Surya ambled over to the edge of the lake, the woven grass basket swinging from his hand. He stopped beside Princess Asawari, who sat by the edge of the lake, legs folded underneath, her head buried in an old palm leaf tome that she had borrowed from Vidyut.
"My princess, I apologize for how long it took me to find those berries," Surya said sheepishly. The evening light reddened his already blushing cheeks. He held out the basket and made an excuse, "If Tantric Vidyut had not found me, I might not have found the way back."
